Why we need to talk about history

Looking back: the school curriculum must give higher status to learning about historical figures and subjects such as (clockwise from top left) Henry VIII, Queen Victoria, Winston Churchill and the Bayeux Tapestry?Photo: GETTY/ALAMY

Here are two quotations that might be taken from the current debate over the teaching of history in English state schools. First: “It is surprising to find how little real knowledge of history is possessed by the average Englishman, or even by the average educated Englishman.” Second: “We need to return to an old-fashioned method which had governed the teaching of history for generations, namely 'dates, conventional divisions and an insistence upon mechanical accuracy’.” Sound familiar? It certainly does; and then some. For the first of these remarks dates from 1906, and was made at a meeting which saw the establishment of the Historical Association; and the second was made in 1924 by Hilaire Belloc.

As these two quotations suggest, complaining about the inadequacy of history teaching in English schools is nothing new: indeed, it has been going on for as long as history has been taught in the classroom, and this means back to the 1900s. So when, these days, Jeremy Paxman deplores the fact that insufficient attention is given in English schools to teaching the history of the British Empire, he is merely repeating (but perhaps does not know he is) a complaint that was made by (among others) Winston Churchill during the Second World War, by King George V in the 1920s, and by Lord Meath, the founder of Empire Day, before 1914.

For as long as it has been taught in state schools, history has always been a controversial and contentious subject. There have been those who thought it was taught well, and those who thought it was taught badly. There have been those who wanted a cheerleading narrative of national greatness, and those who wanted a “warts and all” account of the English past. There have been those who wanted to focus on this nation to the exclusion of all others, and those who wanted to situate England’s (or Britain’s) history in a broader global context. There have been those who thought history is primarily about imparting knowledge, and those who thought it is essentially about teaching skills.

Most of the arguments that are made today are merely the latest iterations of points that have already been made many times before, yet there is scarcely any awareness that this is so. How strange it is that history teaching in schools is discussed and debated, but with almost no historical perspective brought to bear. All too often, there is an easy presumption that there was once a golden age, when history was much better taught in the classroom than it is now, from which there has recently been a deplorable and catastrophic decline. But there is very little evidence to support that alarmist view.

Among other things, history teaches perspective and proportion; yet perspective and proportion are all too often lacking in the current debate on how history is taught in our schools. All too often, individual scare stories are hyped in the media, with no effort to establish whether they are in any way typical or representative; and since there are more than 30,000 schools in this country, any generalisation about what goes on in them is bound to be at best superficial. And we should also remember that the discussion and disagreements about history teaching in schools in this country is paralleled by similar discussions and disagreements in many other countries, too.

Why is this so? Why is history now, and why has history always been, such a contentious subject in the classroom? Indeed, why has it always been, and why is it now, so much more contentious than most other school subjects? Perhaps it is because history is about ourselves, about who we are, about how we define ourselves as a nation, in ways that most other subjects are not. Physics or geometry or Spanish are much the same wherever in the world they are taught. But history in England or in Germany or in Japan or in Canada can be very different, because so much of it is taught in a national framework.

These are some of the broader considerations that inform The Right Kind of History, a book that I have co-authored with Jenny Keating and Nicola Sheldon. It investigates how the subject has been taught in English state schools from the 1900s to the present, and is published this week. Drawing on a wide range of official materials, as well as interviews with hundreds of former teachers and pupils, one of our aims is to put the current debates on history teaching in a broader perspective, and to make recommendations that are soundly based on the evidence.

Across the 20th century, and on into our own time, there has always been controversy, there has always been continuity, and there has always been change.

Discussion and debate, by politicians, academics, educationalists, pundits and journalists have invariably been polarised. Yet it is clear from the evidence we have collected that in the classroom itself, most teachers just want to get on with the job. Across the whole period with which we have been concerned, history in English schools has never been a compulsory subject beyond the age of 14. Yet this remarkable continuity has been accompanied by profound changes: the advent of the wireless, the television and the computer; the creation of a comprehensive system of education; the creation of the National Curriculum; and so on.

From this evidence-based perspective, we have tried to make clear what the current key problems are in the teaching of history, as distinct from those that erroneously assume a sudden, recent collapse from a lost and lamented golden age. It is our firm belief that the major problem is not the current National Curriculum, which in our view strikes a good balance between the history of our own country and its broader engagement with the world, and the histories of other countries. As such, it should be left alone, and politicians and mandarins should resist the temptation to keep tinkering with it. The major problem we have isolated is that history is still only compulsory in English schools until the age of 14.

Here is the root cause of many of today’s problems, especially the rushed treatment of many topics during Key Stage Three, the danger of repeating subjects (such as the Tudors and the Nazis) at Key Stage Three and then again at GCSE, and the lack of time to give appropriate attention to what is termed “the big picture”. Accordingly, our most important recommendation is that history should be made compulsory in all state schools until the age of 16. This would not only mean the subject would be better taught, but it would also be in line with the original proposals of Sir Keith Joseph and Kenneth Baker when the National Curriculum was being drawn up. They were right then, and their proposals remain valid today. It is high time they were implemented. In more ways than one, there is a great deal to be said for knowing more than most of us do about what happened in the past.

David Cannadine’s book 'The Right Kind of History’ is available from Telegraph Books for ￡12.99 plus ￡1.25 p&p. To order your copy, please call 0844 871 1515 or go to books.telegraph.co.uk

The awful truth about A-levels is finally out

Top marks for Michael Gove – if that’s not damning with faint praise. By opening up a debate on a return to “norm referencing” in exams (that is, only allowing a fixed number of candidates to gain the top grade), the Education Secretary has dared confront, unlike a string of his predecessors, the issue of dumbing down in A-levels.

He will doubtless receive vilification from many quarters. Yet it was high time someone took the initiative. It would be an insult to pet-food manufacturers to call the present state of public examinations a dog’s dinner; the system is dangerously close to being not fit for purpose.

A major difficulty for the A-level has been government’s failure to back it as our national examination system. Rather than address and attempt to correct its deficiencies, the last government actually proposed running an alternative exam alongside it. We must be the only country in the world running four separate exams designed to test university entrants: A?level, the International Baccalaureate, the Pre-U and Scottish Highers. It just doesn’t make sense, and baffled, too, must be the university admissions tutors as they attempt to weigh the relative value of each as they assess their applicants.

Thank heavens, then, that one of education’s worst-kept secrets is officially out of the bag. We have all known for a long time that it is becoming easier to gain the top grades at A-level. Twenty-four years ago, when I first became head of a selective boys’ independent school, the champagne corks would pop and the bunting was hung out if 30 per cent of our A-level grades were As. Two decades later and heads of leading schools know they would be hung from the nearest lamppost and their entrails scattered on unhallowed ground if that figure wasn’t at least 60 per cent.

There was little will to confront the issue because, although it became perhaps twice as easy to gain an A grade, the same didn’t apply in the bottom percentiles: it wasn’t getting any easier to actually pass the exam. Our children were working harder, and weak and inefficient teachers were being weeded out. Even though the top was being dumbed down, real improvements were being made at the bottom end.

The trouble is that world-class universities, be they Oxford or Cambridge, Bristol or Birmingham, Harvard or Yale, need to recruit from the top 15 per cent of the ability band. Feed them less and, like a modern jet fighter suddenly required to fly on diesel rather than high-octane fuel, they crash and burn. But instead of seeking out and flagging up this band of “elite” students, our examination system was hiding it. It was decided that “elite” was a swear word and we refused to recognise these particularly bright children as one of Britain’s few remaining natural resources. Instead, they were allowed to slip off the examination radar and become indistinguishable from the next tier of ability down.

Sadly for Gove, the problem can’t just be solved by some statistical wizardry. The addition of the new A* grade, whereby the top grade would only go to those scoring 90 per cent or more in all four A-level modules, wasn’t strict enough. But nor is restricting the percentage of children who are awarded that grade. What is needed is an entirely new extension paper, akin to the old S-Level, which would properly challenge and sift out our brightest and best.

Yet even the best reforms in the world will crumble and fall like a building built on sand unless a major problem underpinning the whole examination system is addressed – marking. The current collection of markers – teachers; many of them inexperienced and some of them underqualified – are an embarrassment. It is perhaps no wonder when we afford them a lower wage and less status than the servants who used to empty chamber pots. Mr Gove can put all the effort he likes into improving our examination system, but if this does not go hand in hand with improving the supply and quality of people marking the actual papers then he’s wasting his time.

And while we’re at it, let’s throw the GCSE in the bin. Fiddling around the edges and awarding extra marks for spelling just isn’t enough. It is neither a School Leaving Certificate that guarantees employers minimum standards of numeracy and literacy, nor a proper tester for those who might wish to proceed to university. It fails to challenge the most able, and is too difficult for the least able. It is living proof that humans, thank God, come in different shapes and sizes, and one size does not fit all.

Michael Gove has grasped a nettle. The problem is that there is an entire field of them.

Dr Martin Stephen is former High Master of St Paul’s School

The awful truth about A-levels is finally out

Top marks for Michael Gove – if that’s not damning with faint praise. By opening up a debate on a return to “norm referencing” in exams (that is, only allowing a fixed number of candidates to gain the top grade), the Education Secretary has dared confront, unlike a string of his predecessors, the issue of dumbing down in A-levels.

He will doubtless receive vilification from many quarters. Yet it was high time someone took the initiative. It would be an insult to pet-food manufacturers to call the present state of public examinations a dog’s dinner; the system is dangerously close to being not fit for purpose.

A major difficulty for the A-level has been government’s failure to back it as our national examination system. Rather than address and attempt to correct its deficiencies, the last government actually proposed running an alternative exam alongside it. We must be the only country in the world running four separate exams designed to test university entrants: A?level, the International Baccalaureate, the Pre-U and Scottish Highers. It just doesn’t make sense, and baffled, too, must be the university admissions tutors as they attempt to weigh the relative value of each as they assess their applicants.

Thank heavens, then, that one of education’s worst-kept secrets is officially out of the bag. We have all known for a long time that it is becoming easier to gain the top grades at A-level. Twenty-four years ago, when I first became head of a selective boys’ independent school, the champagne corks would pop and the bunting was hung out if 30 per cent of our A-level grades were As. Two decades later and heads of leading schools know they would be hung from the nearest lamppost and their entrails scattered on unhallowed ground if that figure wasn’t at least 60 per cent.

There was little will to confront the issue because, although it became perhaps twice as easy to gain an A grade, the same didn’t apply in the bottom percentiles: it wasn’t getting any easier to actually pass the exam. Our children were working harder, and weak and inefficient teachers were being weeded out. Even though the top was being dumbed down, real improvements were being made at the bottom end.

The trouble is that world-class universities, be they Oxford or Cambridge, Bristol or Birmingham, Harvard or Yale, need to recruit from the top 15 per cent of the ability band. Feed them less and, like a modern jet fighter suddenly required to fly on diesel rather than high-octane fuel, they crash and burn. But instead of seeking out and flagging up this band of “elite” students, our examination system was hiding it. It was decided that “elite” was a swear word and we refused to recognise these particularly bright children as one of Britain’s few remaining natural resources. Instead, they were allowed to slip off the examination radar and become indistinguishable from the next tier of ability down.

Sadly for Gove, the problem can’t just be solved by some statistical wizardry. The addition of the new A* grade, whereby the top grade would only go to those scoring 90 per cent or more in all four A-level modules, wasn’t strict enough. But nor is restricting the percentage of children who are awarded that grade. What is needed is an entirely new extension paper, akin to the old S-Level, which would properly challenge and sift out our brightest and best.

Yet even the best reforms in the world will crumble and fall like a building built on sand unless a major problem underpinning the whole examination system is addressed – marking. The current collection of markers – teachers; many of them inexperienced and some of them underqualified – are an embarrassment. It is perhaps no wonder when we afford them a lower wage and less status than the servants who used to empty chamber pots. Mr Gove can put all the effort he likes into improving our examination system, but if this does not go hand in hand with improving the supply and quality of people marking the actual papers then he’s wasting his time.

And while we’re at it, let’s throw the GCSE in the bin. Fiddling around the edges and awarding extra marks for spelling just isn’t enough. It is neither a School Leaving Certificate that guarantees employers minimum standards of numeracy and literacy, nor a proper tester for those who might wish to proceed to university. It fails to challenge the most able, and is too difficult for the least able. It is living proof that humans, thank God, come in different shapes and sizes, and one size does not fit all.

Michael Gove has grasped a nettle. The problem is that there is an entire field of them.

Dr Martin Stephen is former High Master of St Paul’s School