Word problems
Given the clear consensus that certain basic mindsets and skills underpin academic success, and that they are in short supply for many young people, itâs surprising how little agreement there is around what to call this set of aims and how to talk about them. Read around the subject and you encounter an impressive variety of competing, seemingly interchangeable, labels: non-cognitive skills, non-cognitive factors, non-academic skills, soft skills, life skills, success skills, social and emotional skills, performance virtues, academic tenacity, character traits, character skills, character strengths, and often just character. Of all of them, âcharacterâ and ânon-cognitive skillsâ lead the pack, and yet neither of these two, nor any of the others, quite work. In this area, the terminology itself is a conundrum, more often clouding than clarifying meaning, and perhaps this is why there are so many terms in circulation, and why fresh alternatives are constantly being coined.
Does it matter which words we use? We get the gist, and perhaps the imprecisions of âcharacterâ and ânon-cognitive skillsâ are preferable to semantic nit-picking. And yet, there are real problems with some of this language, problems that impede and distort our communication. As the critic Raymond Williams put it, many concepts cannot âreally be thought through, and some of them [âŚ] cannot even be focused on unless we are conscious of the words as elements of the problems.â1
Perhaps the big villain here is âcharacterâ, with its overtones of Victorian sturdiness and stiff upper lips. âThe trouble is character sounds very moralisticâ, says Professor James Heckman. âIt sounds like weâre running a Sunday School.â2 Nevertheless, Heckman suggests we stick with it, as do Richard Reeves and Joanna Venator, authors with Kimberly Howard of the 2014 report, âThe Character Factor.â âDonât back away from using the term character, which is the clearest overall label: just be specific what you mean when you talk about it.â3Their desire to cling to the term is understandable, but unfortunately the word is tinged with the upper-class values of a different age â an uncomfortable resonance in discussions about the education of children from the poorest backgrounds today. This resonance is all the more unfortunate because it occasionally leads to the mistaken assumption that academics and policymakers are accusing the poorest young people of lacking character and grittiness in a more general sense, and to retorts that growing up in adversity gives a person far more character than sitting in a comfortable office. Distracting arguments of this kind are one consequence of inapt terminology.
An even more serious issue with the word character is the air of immutability it communicates. The general impression that the word âcharacterâ conveys is that youâve got it or you havenât. Heckman suggests the term âcharacter skillsâ (as opposed to traits) to suggest malleability. Reeves and Venator suggest âcharacter strengthsâ. But these modifiers donât sufficiently distance us from the idea that your character is something youâre born with, or from the idea that character refers to a personâs whole personality, not a specific subset of mindsets and skills. Given the broader meaning of the term character in general parlance, itâs understandable that some people become wary when they hear talk of âcharacter developmentâ in schools and imagine something closer to brain washing than confidence building. All in all, then, âcharacterâ provokes an array of unhelpful associations and leads us down a variety of argumentative cul de sacs. Weâre not talking about meddling with the essence of someoneâs being or imposing upper-class values on working-class children; weâre talking about helping young people develop a range of basic skills and mindsets, which are essential for their success in school and beyond. The word character does not communicate this simply or clearly enough.
âNon-cognitive skillsâ, ostensibly more neat and scientific, is not much better. Many psychologists have rubbished the term, describing it as nonsensical at best and dangerously misleading at worst. The University of Chicago literature review puts it like this:
[W]e find ânoncognitiveâ to be an unfortunate word. It reinforces a false dichotomy between what comes to be perceived as weightier, more academic âcognitiveâ factors and what by comparison becomes perceived as a separate category of fluffier ânoncognitiveâ or âsoftâ skills. As others have pointed out, contrasting cognitive and noncognitive factors can be confusing because âfew aspects of human behavior are devoid of cognitionâ [âŚ] How could oneâs study skills, for example, not be part of a cognitive process?4
There is simply no such thing as a ânon-cognitive skillâ; all of our skills are the product of cognition. And, as such, this term encourages unhelpful ways of talking to pupils about how they think and learn, and encourages teachers to fence off the acquisition of academic knowledge from the acquisition of the skills and mindsets that underpin academic learning. For Reeves, Venator and Howard, the problem is the breadth and unspecificity of this term: âThe problem is that it is too broad, lumping together a very wide range of skills, traits and attributes â from stable aspects of personality through to everyday social skills.â5
And so, both âcharacterâ and ânon-cognitive skillsâ, the two most common labels for these skills and mindsets, have serious flaws. For this reason, people working on this area tend either to use them with caveats, or to invent new terms of their own. Neither approach is ideal and it may be time to call off the search for a single overarching label. Instead, Iâd propose naming the specific outcomes weâre interested in: confidence, independence and resilience. Although these are still umbrella terms, they are more focused and transparent than most of the designations listed above.
Value judgements
Before defining confidence, independence and resilience and diving into our aims for pupils in more detail, itâs worth pausing to consider how they fit within the broader spectrum of aims we might have for a young personâs education. One of the chief criticisms of the character and non-cognitive skills debate is how narrow, mechanistic, even self-centred, outcomes like confidence, independence and resilience can seem. Donât we want to foster good citizens with strong values? Why arenât we talking about gratitude, generosity, humility and compassion as well?
In a review of David Brooksâs 2015 book The Road to Character, Rowan Williams made an impassioned case against âthe bland managerialism that is replacing discussion about the core values of our educational systemâ. We may wish young people to have self-control and resilience, Williams continues, but our vision for young people should not be âa style of living that accepts limits and deferralsâ but rather âthe kind of vision that makes sense of limits and deferrals, that would make struggle and frustration worthwhile.â In other words, unless we support pupils to consider what is worth struggling for in life, rather than simply teaching them how to persevere and be self-controlled, our educational philosophy risks becoming âfunctionalist and reductiveâ. ââCharacterâ without solidarity, and so without compassion and a principled universal perspective on human dignity,â Williams concludes, âcan be yet another stalking horse for self-regard and self-protection.â6
These are wise words and itâs true that the qualities most often discussed in the current conversations about character and non-cognitive skills tend to be functional and performance-related: skills and mindsets that underpin individual effort and perseverance, rather than moral values or virtues that involve looking outward. There are, however, good reasons for the narrowness of this discussion. The first is that a lack of certain functional mindsets, skills and habits is preventing many pupils from learning successfully; we urgently need to understand this area better and ensure that all pupils can approach learning and life with confidence, independence and resilience. A second reason is that focusing on these non-negotiable mindsets and skills doesnât negate the importance of other qualities and values, or suggest that schools donât have an important responsibility in that regard too. Needless to say, decency, generosity, humility and gratitude will shape the way in which more functional skills and mindsets are employed.
This book is specifically focused on how to support pupils, especially pupils from the poorest backgrounds, to overcome a particular, and particularly pervasive, barrier to learning. But the bookâs tight scope should not be read as a statement that these are the only personal qualities that matter for young people. Bigger questions of values, citizenship and a life well lived should be at the heart of every childâs education, defined and debated by families, schools and communities together.