Towards A New Education System

The Victory Of The New Right?

Clyde Chitty University of Birmingham.

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781351538831
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Education General

First published in 1989. A provocative study of the radical changes that have taken place in education since 1976. Chitty analyzes the effects of recent legislative proposals on the education system and reveals the contradictions and tensions within New Right thinking.

Chapter 1

The Evolution of the Comprehensive School: 1944–76

It can be argued that the post-war campaign for comprehensive education in Britain has passed through a number of phases — not all of them directly related to the political complexion of the government in power. Over forty years have now elapsed since the passing of the Butler Education Act of 1944, and in that time a number of new theories and practices have surfaced to acquire a transient popularity, while many others have been discredited and effectively discarded. Having said that, it is, of course, highly dangerous to suggest that any reform movement can be divided up into neat periods each with its own distinct flavour and outlook. If we think in terms of phases or periods — and this chapter makes use of 1965 as a suitable turning-point in the analysis — they are clearly to a large extent arbitrary, and can be justified only as an artificial device for making a complex subject more manageable.

The 1944 Act established secondary education for all pupils as an integral part of an educational system which was to be seen as a continuous process — ranging from the primary sector to further education (Education Act, 1944). The twenty years following its implementation down to 1965 the first of our arbitrary phases — saw the comprehensive movement very much in its infancy, when a number of committed teachers and educationists campaigned for the abolition of the 11 + and for the introduction of the common secondary school. It was also very much a grass-roots movement, with no encouragement, and often fierce opposition, from central government. A number of the urban comprehensives built during this period were very large institutions (one or two with over 2000 pupils), since only large schools were thought to be capable of producing sixth-forms of a viable size, with the added ‘bonus’ that a wide assortment of options could then be offered to pupils in years 4 and 5. Yet by 1960, the number of pupils in comprehensive schools in England and Wales still amounted to less than 5 per cent of the secondary school population (Benn and Simon, 1972, p.102).

The morale of the reformers and innovators was obviously given a marked boost by the election in October 1964 of a Labour government (albeit with a tiny majority) returned on a programme which included a promise to introduce comprehensive education. Yet the period 1965 to the early 1970s began with the acceptance of comprehensive reorganization as a largely institutional reform, as if comprehensive schools were simply a good thing in themselves. Circular 10/65, for example, declaring the Government’s intention ‘to end selection at 11 + and to eliminate separatism in secondary education’, was concerned primarily with the mechanics of reorganization — with outlining the various schemes which would be acceptable as comprehensive systems (DES, 1965, pp. 1–6).

What was clearly lacking in the late 1960s and early 1970s was a national debate about the kind of education a comprehensive school could be expected to provide. It is true that a number of teachers were anxious to plan new courses, particularly for those children labelled ‘non-academic’ or ‘Newsom’ (following the publication of the Newsom Report in 1963); but there was comparatively little evidence of the development of radically new approaches to the secondary school curriculum. The Schools Council for Curriculum and Examinations had been established in 1964, but, while initiating some innovative projects, was predisposed towards a piecemeal, subject-centred view of the curriculum with most of its schemes designed for only part of the ability range. Even books and articles welcoming the movement towards mixed-ability teaching and flexible grouping had little to say about the content and purpose of the curriculum as a whole (see, for example, Chitty, 1969, pp.2–8).

Then in 1976, the so-called Great Debate inaugurated by James Callaghan’s Ruskin College speech, and the campaign to ‘preserve’ educational standards, coincided with the start of a concerted effort by the DES and HMI to win teachers and local authorities over to the idea of a more unified curriculum for the comprehensive school. Although it has been argued by a number of commentators (for example: CCCS, 1981, p.218; Hargreaves, 1982, p.219; Dale, 1983, p.243; Ball, 1984, p.7) that the Callaghan initiative was little more than a thinly-disguised attempt to wrest the populist mantle from the Conservatives, pandering to perceived public disquiet at the alleged prevalence of soft-centred progressivism, the result was, in fact, to wean a number of comprehensives away from the narrow curriculum traditions derived from the grammar and modern schools (for example see Holt, 1983a, pp.109–67). Ten years or so later, it remains, of course, to be seen whether or not school-based curriculum development can come to terms with a national curriculum framework imposed from the centre.

It is the aim of this introductory chapter to look at the first two phases in the history of the comprehensive school (1944–65 and 1965–76) in some detail — and particularly from the point of view of curriculum development — in order to provide an historical framework for the material that follows in later chapters.

Yet it needs to be stated, right at the outset, that a serious problem presents itself to anyone contemplating a brief historical survey of the secondary school curriculum. Any historical treatment has, of necessity, to take account of at least two major developments: the evolution of DES and HMI thinking on the curriculum as outlined in official documents and circulars; and the implementation of change within the schools themselves as some ideas are taken up and others are ignored or rejected. As Donald has pointed out (Donald, 1979, p.13), ‘the obvious disparities between what the Department of Education and Science says ought to be happening and what is actually going on in schools are usually explained in commonsensical terms of a time-lag, or of the incompetence and/or obstruction of teachers, administrators and students’. Yet we, in fact, know very little about the relationship between the formulation of policy and its actual implementation. It is all too easy to assume either that all new theories are eventually translated into practice or that all DES policy statements are viewed at classroom level with cynicism and mistrust. Salter and Tapper (1981) have argued that ‘in the present-day redefining of the educational system, the increasing power of the DES stems from its ability to provide some substance as to what the new goals of schooling should be and how the educational system should be reshaped to fulfil these’ (p.43). In their view, educational change occurs within three inter-related arenas:

The first is the redefinition of the social ends of education and the restructuring of the experiences of schooling designed to achieve them. The second is the allocation of resources which will flow in the direction of those schooling experiences which apparently achieve those goals defined as necessary, and away from those schooling experiences deemed to be either redundant or at least not meriting state support. The third is the struggle between institutions for educational power. (ibid., p.45)

Yet this essentially macro view of the forces behind educational change tells us little about the effectiveness of government initiatives, particularly in relation to the curriculum where, until recently, the DES has not been in a position to exercise direct control and has been forced to rely instead on exhortatory documents.¹

The fact is that full-scale investigations into secondary schooling in general, or comprehensive schooling in particular, have been remarkably few in number: the NFER (National Foundation for Eductional Research) surveys of the late sixties and early seventies written up in three reports (Monks, 1968 and 1970; Ross, Bunton, Evison and Robertson, 1972); the research carried out by Caroline Benn and Brian Simon for the two editions of their book Half Way There (Benn and Simon, 1970 and 1972); and the HMI survey of secondary schools (grammar and secondary modern as well as comprehensive) published in December 1979 (DES, 1979a). Case studies of individual schools tell us little about general trends; and can be used only to illustrate developments which other sources tell us are widespread. The following account attempts to avoid the pitfall of assuming that the schools most written about (see, for example, Fletcher, Caron and Williams, 1985) are representative of the comprehensive movement as a whole.

From the 1944 Act to Circular 10/65

The 1944 Act sought to extend educational opportunity by providing free secondary education for all. It has been described as ‘probably the greatest single advance in English educational history, its provisions showing real breadth of outlook and considerable educational vision’ (Evans, 1985, p.109). Yet it is easy to exaggerate its beneficial effects. Although it came to be regarded by many as a cornerstone of the Welfare State, it could be argued that it had a number of weaknesses and shortcomings which undermined its good intentions. Above all, it provided no clear definition of the content or structure of secondary education. It has been pointed out that ‘the word “curriculum” does not appear in the 1944 Act. There is no statutory requirement for the inclusion of any subject in the school timetable except that of religious education’ (Aldrich and Leighton, 1985, p.55). With regard to structure, the initial assumptions favoured a bipartite or tripartite system, even though comprehensive schools were not officially proscribed. One interpretation of section 8, referring to the provision of opportunities for all pupils ‘in view of their different ages, abilities and aptitudes, and of the different periods for which they may be expected to remain at school’, ensured that secondary reform of a radical nature was deferred for many years. At the same time, the ambiguity in the wording of the Act meant that when the pressure for reform became almost irresistible in the 1960s, it could be carried out by reinterpreting the formula without the need for further legislation. Attention was drawn to this possibility, even while the Bill was under discussion, by an experienced educational administrator, J. Chuter Ede, the Labour Parliamentary Secretary to the Board of Education. ‘I do not know where people get the idea about three types of school’, he said, in a speech in April 1944, ‘because I have gone through the Bill with a small toothcomb, and I can find only one school for senior pupils and that is a secondary school. What you like to make of it will depend on the way you serve the precise needs of the individual area in the country’ (The Times, 14 April 1944 quoted in Rubinstein and Simon, 1973, p.31).

The absence of any curriculum guidelines in the 1944 Act was defended by R. A. Butler (since 1941, President of the Board of Education) in a debate in the House of Commons on the grounds that general responsibility for running the secondary schools rested with headteachers, governing bodies and local education authorities:

I will begin by saying that the local education authority, as I see it, will have responsibility for the broad type of education given in the secondary schools … The governing body would, in our view, have the general direction of the curriculum as actually given from day to day, within the school. The headteacher would have, again in our view, responsibility for the internal organization of the school, including the discipline that is necessary to keep the pupils applied to their study, and to carry out the curriculum in the sense desired by the governing body … We … suggest that, in future, major changes in the curriculum should be brought formally before the local education authority and the governors, and not done in some chance way. (Hansard, H. of C., Vol. 397, Cols. 2363-4, 10 March 1944)

With the removal of the constraints of the Regulations which had operated since 1902, the 1944 Act ushered in what Lawton has called ‘the Golden Age of teacher control (or non-control) of the curriculum’ (Lawton, 1980, p.22). This lasted for at least twenty years; and if it was not a great age of curriculum innovation, that was partly because any individual initiatives would have to be severely limited in scope owing to the very nature of the divided system itself.

That system was, in fact, justified in that it reflected admirably the view outlined in the Norwood Report of 1943 that there were three ‘rough groupings’ of children with different ‘types of mind’. For these three groups three types of curriculum were needed each with its own particular bias:

In a wise economy of secondary education, pupils of a particular type of mind would receive the training best suited for them and that training would lead them to an occupation where their capacities would be suitably used; that a future occupation is already present to their minds while they are still at school has been suggested, though admittedly the degree to which it is present varies. Thus, to the three main types … there would correspond three main types of curriculum, which we may … attempt to indicate.

First, there would be a curriculum of which the most characteristic feature is that it treats the various fields of knowledge as suitable for coherent and systematic study for their own sake apart from immediate considerations of occupation, though at a later stage, grasp of the matter and experience of the methods belonging to those fields may determine the area of choice of employment and may contribute to success in the employment chosen.

The second type of curriculum would be closely, though not wholly, directed to the special data and skills associated with a particular kind of occupation; its outlook and its methods would always be bounded by a near horizon clearly envisaged. It would thus be closely related to industry, trades and commerce in all their diversity.

In the third type of curriculum, a balanced training of mind and body and a correlated approach to humanities, natural science and the arts would provide an equipment varied enough to enable pupils to take up the work of life: its purpose would not be to prepare for a particular job or profession, and its treatment would make a direct appeal to interests, which it would awaken by practical touch with affairs.

Of the first, it may be said that it may or may not look forward to university work; if it does, that is because the universities are traditionally concerned with the pursuit of knowledge as such. Of the second, we should say that it may or may not look forward to the universities, but that it should increasingly be directed to advanced studies in so far as the universities extend their orbit in response to the demands of the technical branches of industry. (SSEC, 1943, p.4)

Significantly, the Norwood Report goes on to say: ‘we have treated secondary education as that phase of education in which differences between pupils receive the consideration due to them’ (ibid., p.4).

It might be thought that the philosophy behind such statements would be totally unacceptable to a large section of the working-class and trade union movement. In 1942 both the Labour Party Conference and the Trades Union Congress had, after all, given their official support to the idea of a common school as the basis for secondary education for all (Evans, 1985, p.115). Yet the divided system sanctioned by the findings of the Norwood Report was not effectively challenged largely owing to a lack of enthusiasm for the common or comprehensive school on the part of the Labour leadership which saw the state grammar school (now at last opened completely to talent) as providing the best answer to the competition of the independent public schools.

Despite a reputation for strong radical sympathies, Ellen Wilkinson, the first Labour Minister of Education in the Attlee post-war administration, made little attempt to challenge the prevailing philosophy of her Ministry which embraced a firm commitment to a tripartite system of secondary education (grammar, technical and modern schools) and a deep mistrust of multilateral and comprehensive schools. The new Minister was herself a working-class product of the state education system; and it has been argued that this probably coloured her outlook (Simon, 1974, p.284). Whatever the motivation, she made her position perfectly clear soon after her appointment, at a meeting in London. It was not her intention ‘to destroy the grammar schools. They were the pioneers of secondary education and … it would be folly to injure them. The most urgent need in the field of new development was an adequate number of modern secondary schools because more than half the children of secondary age would attend these schools’ (Education, 2 October 1945 quoted in Fenwick, 1976, p.54).

The new Minister did little to appease her critics by her refusal to repudiate the views expressed in The Nation’s Schools, the first pamphlet issued by the post-war Ministry. This had actually been written before Ellen Wilkinson took office; but its publication in 1945 provoked a deep rift between the Minister and her more radical supporters. For one thing, it echoed the conclusions of the Norwood Report, advocating ‘three broad types’ of secondary school to meet ‘the differing needs of different pupils’. But it went even further by declaring that the education of vast numbers of children in the secondary modern schools was to be determined by the fact that their ‘future employment will not demand any measure of technical skill or knowlege’. Where multilateral schools were concerned, these should be restricted to ‘sparsely populated districts’, though there might be room for ‘judicious experiments’ elsewhere (Ministry of Education, 1945, pp. 13, 21 and 22–3).

The document came in for bitter criticism at the 1946 Labour Party Conference where the Minister suffered a major defeat and was f...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Dedication
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Preface
• Introduction: Education, Politics and the State
• Chapter 1 The Evolution of the Comprehensive School: 1944–76
• Chapter 2 The Comprehensive System Under Attack: 1970–76
• Chapter 3 The Yellow Book, The Ruskin Speech and the Great Debate
• Chapter 4 Towards a National Curriculum: 1976–87
• Chapter 5 The ‘Secret Garden’ Invaded: Central Control of the Curriculum, 1976–87
• Chapter 6 Differentiation and Vocationalization
• Chapter 7 Early Attempts at Privatization: Choice, Competition and the Voucher
• Chapter 8 1987 and Beyond: The New Right Education Offensive
• Bibliography
• Index