Ugly words – such as learning objectives, non-negotiables and targets – are meaningless to young pupils and put too much pressure on them too soon

"What do you do when you get to school in the morning?" a colleague asked a younger member of my family recently. "Well, when we get to class, we get out our books and start on our non-negotiables," replied the child, who is in year 2. "What are they?" the colleague inquired. "Don't know" was the answer.

This is a perfect example of what is bothering me as a primary school teacher – educational jargon that is passed on to our children. At no point during my own education was I ever aware of non-negotiables, targets, levels, learning objectives or success criteria. But my teachers still taught me a great deal and it was pretty obvious that I was learning. Where I stood in the academic pecking order was the teacher's business, not mine.

But the constant jargon that teachers are forced to use is rubbing off on our students. Not only is this meaningless for them but it's increasingly making their academic performance their responsibility too. Do primary school children really need that kind of pressure when they're so young?

Despite my objections, this year I prepared a group of year 6 children to have a go at the Sats level 6 papers. Level 6 is designed for children aged 14, but these students were very secure at level 5. One girl in particular found this process really difficult and, when I found her in tears after a practice test, it was clear from our conversation that however much I tried to explain that level 6 was miles ahead of where she was supposed to be, it hadn't really sunk in.

"Why are you so upset?" I asked.

"Because I just don't think I'm going to get a level 6 in reading, and that's my target."

"Really? Did I ever tell you that was your target?"

"No, but I'm doing the paper."

"Well, what will happen if you don't get the level 6? What level will you get instead?"

"I'll just get a level 5."

"And do you know what level most children leave primary school with? Level 4b, so it's not just a level 5 – you're already higher than average."

"Oh."

"Just do the best that you can."

"Ok, thanks Miss. And you won't be disappointed if I don't get level 6?"

"No, not at all. If you try your hardest I'll be happy with whatever you get."

By dragging children into a stupid numbers game with us, we do them a great disservice. They don't respond well to the pressure, and levels and targets don't tell the tale of their primary education. But many schools make children believe it really matters. Of course it matters to teachers and management, because that is what we as professionals are judged on, but it is of little consequence to the children themselves.

In the same vein, schools conduct their own type of Pavlov's dog experiment by conditioning students to think that they are only learning when they use the correct buzzwords. Learning that takes place outside of the objective is rarely valued or recognised, and teachers who train under this rigid system never realise there was ever another way.

Learning is apparently pointless unless it has a clear "objective" shared with the children, and children cannot possibly achieve anything unless they follow the success criteria. While these concepts are amazing tools for professionals when used with care and thought, too often the jargon leads to boring teaching. And teachers only feel obliged to cling on to these terms to get approval from other adults.

Children are expected to jump perfectly through adult-designed hoops in other ways too. The question most often asked of children in a lesson observation is: "What you are learning?" Should the child dare to reply by enthusiastically telling the adult about what they are doing, then the teacher is penalised because the learning objective isn't clear enough. For many children, this is an extremely demanding question and one many will not be developmentally ready for. When a child plays with Lego they don't say, "I'm developing my sense of spatial awareness and 3D shapes, as well elementary engineering and architecture." Rather, they say: "Look at the house I built!" Should we really expect them to respond any differently?

Teachers need to claim back their intellectual confidence and decide what is best for their children, exercising professional judgment without fear of criticism. Too much of children's time is wasted telling them in great detail what skills they are developing as if they were able to stand outside of themselves and see the wider application of these skills.

Thankfully I now work in an environment where the management appreciate that learning does not have to take a set format. I don't feel obliged to tick their boxes and this is good for the children and for me. I know exactly what I'm going to teach, giving clear guidance on what is expected and direction on how to get things done. But I rarely mention the ugly words learning objectives, success criteria and targets. The principles are there but the jargon isn't. And guess what? They still learn.

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