Introduction:
Three Horizons
In the first two decades of the twenty-first century, leaders of schools in England have been caught up in an almost bewildering vortex of swirling cross-currents and riptides as national policy has veered first in one direction, then in another. The forces which have given rise to this instability are, though, not unique to one country. They are better understood as part of a much wider phenomenon, even though some responses may be peculiar to English politics. In general, we cannot seem to agree on the purpose and rationale of our education provision.
Education is a significant example of an ‘essentially contested concept’. These, according to Gallie’s definition of the phrase, ‘inevitably involve endless disputes about their proper uses on the part of their users’ (1955: 169). For Guy Claxton and Bill Lucas (2015), this dispute in education is characterised as being between three groups. The romantics (roms) are so defined because of their belief in the innate goodness of children, who, by virtue of this innate quality, have no need for didactic teaching or adult authority. The traditionalists (trads), on the other hand, are so called due to their view of teachers as respected sources of culturally important tried and tested factual knowledge which they pass on to children and then test receipt of through formal examination. A third group, the moderates (mods), Claxton and Lucas suggest, reject this simplistic duality, understand complexity, do not believe in quick fixes or appeals to nostalgia, and so think, tinker, and explore so as to better understand the nature of learning. This book is essentially written from a mod viewpoint.
Educational discourse abounds with polarising spectrums – traditional or progressive, academic or vocational, skills or knowledge, and many more. This often contested theoretical space is also inevitably the territory in which school leaders exist and live, and through which they must move, having the direct responsibility to chart a course in the best interests of the young people in their care.
We believe, though, that there is now something more fundamental happening to education than suggested by these long-held, strongly argued debates. We think the present upheavals are in fact symptoms of a more terminal problem with our present concept of schooling, designed as it was to serve the purposes of different times and often reflecting the mindset of an analogue, pre-digital age.
A good analogy to help understand this can be borrowed from the energy industry. According to Curry and Hodgson (2008), the challenge of achieving a sustainable energy supply can be conceptualised using the lens of three different horizons (see Figure 1). The first horizon represents the way we generate and use energy at present. It is inefficient, damaging to the environment, short-term, and ultimately unsustainable. A third horizon represents the outlook of those who have seen these limitations and are trying to create alternative, viable, sustainable solutions to meet future energy needs. These might include, for example, solar and wind power, hydrogen cells, biofuels, and changing consumption patterns. Such solutions are currently still experimental, are not yet proven, may be contradictory, and none are yet to scale or fully tested. However, at some point in the future, a new way forward will emerge from this experimental cauldron to supersede the unsustainable status quo.
Between these points lies another conceptual horizon, termed the second horizon, falling as it does between now and the future. This is the space in which leaders try to make sense of and navigate between the failing, unsustainable present and the as yet uncertain future, in order to create a meaningful future for their organisation, and, in the case of schools, for those in their care. For one big difference between running a school and a running an energy business lies in the fact that what school leaders do and how they do it directly shapes individual lives now, as well as impacting on the futures those individuals are able to create for themselves.
The parallel of the original model for education leadership is uncanny. As Claxton and Lucas (2015) show, there is a strong body of opinion which recognises that our present concept of schooling in terms of its purpose and our understanding of quality are reaching the end of their useful life. There is, as well, a range of alternative thinking going on, frequently small scale, unproven, and often on the basis of individual enthusiasms. Think perhaps of studio schools, some free schools, or project-based learning (PBL) amongst many other initiatives.
But for a school leader, there is never going to be a completely clean slate from which to start, a day in the future when everything can begin afresh and be wholly reconstituted from the ground up. There are always real children to be educated today, who have a single best shot at their own future. There will always, legitimately, be government expectations to meet, although these may be more or less helpful. So leaders of change have no choice but to build their future plane in the sky as they fly it, rather than work on it in its hangar.
For these leaders, the role of leadership is therefore not confined simply to responding to the short-term demands of today, driven by government accountability alone. Leadership must mesh this with a clear vision of what is needed for tomorrow and a determination to find practical and effective ways to start moving towards that – within the constraints of today.
This means living and leading in two worlds at one and the same time, and it means living with the tension and ambiguity which that necessarily involves. Of course, the balance between the two worlds may shift according to context, circumstance, and capacity. But leadership for tomorrow is actually an integral part of leading effectively today. Furthermore, leading for today will ultimately not succeed if it fails to lead for tomorrow as well.
The central task of this book is to show how some leaders are already setting about using this tension creatively to start to fashion better futures for the children and young people in their care. In doing this, we hope to encourage others in positions of leadership and influence to go further in building their own and their schools’ capacity to live and grow successfully towards the second horizon, bringing together and into a new relationship the worlds of today and tomorrow.
The origins of Leadership for Tomorrow
This book’s origins lie in many places. It began, most obviously, through the work of a small group of school leaders in England, who met together one day in November 2011 at Beauchamp College, Leicester, to ponder whether there was any contribution they could make to collectively shape a better future for their schools. As a result, they formed a small research and development group, which they came to call Schools of Tomorrow, to support schools and school leaders who wanted to explore second horizon thinking and practice. Their experience and practice has directly informed the development of this book.
Another, more removed, origin lies in the intriguing story of the American township of Roseto (Gladwell, 2009). This close-knit Italian-American community in Pennsylvania was the focus of health studies for nearly 50 years, after it was noticed that heart disease was much less prevalent there than in the nearby similar community of Bangor. Wolf and Bruhn (1993), reviewing studies made of Roseto between 1935 and 1984, conclude that mutual respect and cooperation contribute to the health and welfare of a community’s inhabitants, and that self-indulgence and lack of concern for others have the opposite effect. They found that belonging to a tight-knit community was a better predictor of healthy hearts than low levels of serum cholesterol or abstaining from tobacco use.
More recently, Holt-Lunstad et al. (2010), looking more broadly at data from 148 studies totalling 308,849 participants, echoed the link between relationships and health, concluding that the influence of limited social relationships on mortality risk is comparable with other well-established risk factors, and exceeds many.
There is one further significant feature to pick out from the story of Roseto. The leadership of the parish priest, Rev. Pasquale de Nisco, was crucial in forging and sustaining the social networks and trust which underpinned Rosetan life in its early days (Bruhn and Wolf, 1979: 13–20). Arriving in Roseto in June 1897, he found a disorganised, disparate group of Italian immigrants clinging to their land, knowing little English and almost nothing of their new country. There was no coordination of effort and no grasp of citizenship. De Nisco set up spiritual societies and organised festivals. He also initiated projects to improve the diet of the population though planting gardens and vineyards and raising livestock. Gradually Rosetans developed a sense of civic pride and began to build civic amenities. Additionally, increased enterprise meant more employment opportunities. The town had started to come alive through the priest’s leadership, and that social interaction, Wolf and Bruhn demonstrated, had profound implications for physical health.
The story of Roseto is illuminating as a specific case study of the significance of social capital and its impact on one aspect of human development over time, as are the unique circumstances which allowed that to happen. Of course, Roseto was not perfect, and some would now regard it as an unduly restrictive community, not one we might choose to live in ourselves. However, it reminds us that so-called outliers can reveal important insights for ‘normal’ practice. It also says something important about the significance of leadership in building and shaping social capital, for better or indeed for worse.
Building social capital is something we believe to be critically important for leadership, Although a complex and to some extent contested concept, most definitions of the term would include the following elements:
- A high degree of consensus around norms and values that actively inform day-to-day interactions.
- A shared language with a specialist vocabulary that enables open and lateral communication.
- A strong sense of shared identity and interdependence working through rich networks and a sense of mutual responsibility.
- Active involvement and participation in the working of the community – standing for office, voting, and accepting civic responsibility.
- A commitment to openness and sharing ideas and wisdom.
- A shared sense of purpose and optimism for the future.
Field (2008: 1) helpfully sums up the complicated concept of social capital quite succinctly:
But could changes in social capital influence educational outcomes in ways similar to their reported impact on health? If so, what forms could this influence take, how does it arise, and what might that impact be? Particularly, what does it mean for individual leaders who want to secure the best outcomes for all their pupils, and for the nature of their leadership? These questions are particularly pertinent for leaders who grasp the significance of the second horizon, at a time when new concerns have been raised about how well we are educating our young people in the context of a globalised economy. A context which is increasingly competitive at both a national and personal level, but also reveals major issues of fairness and sustainability. The influence and significance of social capital is a key theme to which we will frequently return.
Significance in the present context of English schools
One of the first actions of the coalition government which took office in the UK in May 2010 was to change the name of the Department of Children, Schools and Families (DCSF) to the Department for Education (DfE). This gesture was intended to symbolise a renewed focus on the core business of teaching and learning. The subsequent White Paper (Department for Education, 2010: 8) stressed that: ‘Our school system performs well below its potential and can improve signif...