We often talk about the two-tier system of education. We wring our hands and decry the fact that the academic pathway continues to be given higher status than the vocational. We talk about solutions for overcoming this. The latest is more government intervention which seeks to ensure exacting standards of quality that live up to those seen in academic settings.

Let’s be clear, though, the academic setting should not necessarily be held up as the gold standard. For all the innovative pedagogical approaches that we study – much university teaching is still delivered in lecture theatres where we seek to transfer knowledge from a single being to a large group of beings in a time-efficient and cost-effective way.

The truth of the matter is that until those from relatively privileged backgrounds choose to send their children to vocational schools and learn craft skills rather than Eton and Harrow etc. to learn Classics, Philosophy, Politics and Economics – the hierarchies will remain.

But, that is not what this piece is about.

What we don’t talk about is the hierarchy of status given to programmes within the vocational context.

There are some faculties within FE that you will hear described in terms of being collegiate, professional, aspirational. There are others where you are more likely to hear students described as struggling, challenging, low ability.

If we look at ability as a myth as Stobart does in his book The Expert Learner. We can begin to understand just how important and indeed limiting and damaging our language about students can be. As he so eloquently puts it “Do you have a ‘gifted and talented’ programme? Is there a better name you could use for this (so that 90% are no longer ‘ungifted and untalented’)?” (Stobart, 2014)

Conversations in the engineering department about how it is ‘ridiculous’ that a beauty therapy lecturer gets paid the same as an engineering lecturer. Conversations in the beauty department about giving early IAG to “less ‘academic’ learners” recommending they move to hairdressing because “you know – it’s just easier”.

From a skills perspective, I am quite sure each lecturer would be equally at sea should they be asked to step in to cover for a day. While you wouldn’t want a Hairdressing Lecturer to assemble your microcontroller systems, equally you wouldn’t want an Engineering Lecturer to style your bridal hair.

I am not for one moment suggesting that there isn’t a place in FE for inter-faculty banter. I am not a fun sponge.

However, in seriousness, we do need to look at the differences with which we refer to our students. Why does one department lead with a strengths-first approach while the next is talked about only in terms of deficits and issues to be overcome?

I will not let my learners refer to themselves as ‘just groundworkers’ (I won’t let anyone else refer to them as this either). Groundworkers are building the literal foundations on which the rest of the construction industry sits. It is not, and never has been, about “just digging holes”.

This kind of language makes me recoil as much as referring to education purely in terms of how it serves the economy. Let’s not be coy, the two are inextricably linked. When politicians and industry giants talk about plugging leaky pipelines to ensure a steady flow of skills into the economy – they are not talking about their children.

While I agree we have a mountain to overcome in terms of being seen as on par with academic pathways. Let us not overlook or deny our own internal biases.

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References

Stobart, G. (2014). The Expert Learner: Challenging the Myth of Ability. Open University Press.

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