If the current government is dedicated to strengthening education, it needs to establish a clear understanding of teachers' roles in schools. Do schools need teachers who stimulate curiosity and inspire life-long learning? Or is it ''trainers'' they need - people who skill-up children for the labour market? If the language principals and school leaders use these days is anything to go by, it's probably the latter. Pick up an education policy or ''school business plan'' and you're bound to encounter terms that belong in a corporate manual. Attend a staff development session in a state secondary college and you're likely to hear reference to the school's ''strategic planning initiative'', emphasising the need to ''build on maximum capacity'' and ''value add''. There will be talk of ''targets'' and ''benchmarks'', as well as the need for increased ''market share'', which suggests that schools are becoming more like businesses that trade in skilled human capital, rather than places of learning. Put simply, schools are devolving into training centres that procure compliant and attentive candidates for the workplace. The American philosopher Sidney Hook wrote that ''everyone who remembers his own education remembers teachers, not their methods and techniques. The teacher is the heart of the educational system.'' Most of us remember a teacher who had a significant influence on us. Mine was my English teacher. He would enter the classroom with nothing more than the prescribed novel, a stick of chalk, a mellifluous voice and a good story. And with these basic tools he would draw every member of the class into a world of wonder. It was not easy. But his methods were simple. No jargon. No hackneyed phrases and certainly no corporate language. Just good stories, with which he was able to stimulate thinking and discussion about life's big questions. I know it's an old-fashioned notion, but he made learning enjoyable.

As an English and humanities teacher, my students often ask me how reading a novel written more than 100 years ago, or studying an ancient civilisation, will help them get a job. I say: ''It's not meant to. Not everything we do in life, and indeed school, is geared to material gain.'' Forming relationships, engaging in interesting conversation, sharing stories, reading books, inventing, creating and labouring over things you love is valuable in itself. Pleasure is a sufficient reward, and it certainly can't be measured by a standardised test or exam. But sadly, there is very little time for this kind of learning in a curriculum geared to government-prescribed targets and benchmarks. And there's hardly any time for students to tinker, make mistakes, pull apart, dissect, rebuild and make serendipitous discoveries. Informative as the Program for International Student Assessment results are, they can't tell us everything about the quality of schools. These are crude instruments that don't take into account the complexities of education. Yet they are gaining increasing prominence in Australian schools. Excessive reliance on NAPLAN results, test scores and league tables has diminished the teacher's role, narrowed the curriculum and substituted real teaching for training kids up for tests. Any ''training facilitator'' can impart lower-order rote skills, which require little more than memorising information and conducting simple operations. Unlike a trainer or an online module where students (or should I say clients?) are required to read, memorise and click to submit, a teacher releases the creative energy that all children possess and fans the embers of curiosity. They help kids make sense of a world that is becoming increasingly complex and confusing. And they help students make sense of the torrent of information the internet spews out, by providing them with the thing a search engine never can: understanding.

Good teachers enters the profession because they are good communicators, not ventriloquists for technocrats and business leaders. If you want teachers to kill enthusiasm for learning, then tell them to conduct their lessons like a corporate trainer, preferably with the aid of a PowerPoint presentation. Kids lose interest and disengage the moment a teacher stops teaching and begins to train, as many teachers are instructed to do, particularly when in comes to lifting NAPLAN scores. Here is a revolutionary idea. Why not place an embargo on corporate speak in schools? If education analysts are to have a meaningful discussion on advancing education, then why not use meaningful language instead of vapid corporate terminology that would make anyone, let alone a teacher, glaze over? Schools do not need ''improvement strategies'' prepared by a consultancy agency, they need teachers - you know, those who have been entrusted by society to teach children to live well. After all, it is the students who will judge teachers, not politicians, economists, business managers or captains of industry. Chris Fotinopoulos is a secondary school teacher.

Twitter: @CFotinopoulos