I’ve been thinking a lot about what we mean when we say “good teaching.” When I trained, the word differentiation hadn’t quite come to the forefront but sort of hovered in the background. I’ve been teaching for over twenty years (but certainly not for enough in the last few years, I acknowledge and feel sad about that) so I’ve seen a few changes.
One of these changes, was what I remember ans the emergence of differentiation as more central. It became the thing we should be doing and this was something that was particularly important to me. I worked in London, as the teacher-in-charge of a psychiatric unit, children were between 12-18 with a range of needs. I used the approach in lessons when looking at adapting. (sorry differentiating). The framework was often reduced to all, some, most; all pupils will learn X, most pupils will achieve Y, and some will manage Z. Then came the visual metaphors, like the Nando’s chili scale of mild-to-extra hot challenges. These tools were supposed to help teachers codify the art of teaching into something measurable and checkable. It was to help children take ownership of their learning and choose the challenge that was most fitting.
Then I remember Bloom’s taxonomy arriving on the scene. Suddenly, objectives had to be written on the board, framed with WALT (we are learning to) and WILF (what I’m looking for). Later came embedding “British values”, although as someone British myself, I’ve never been convinced these values were inherently British, especially given the notable absence of tea and weather.
In recent years, the discourse has shifted again. Dual coding, explicit instruction, adaptive teaching. The vocabulary changes, the approach develops, acronyms multiply, and training sessions rotate. I wonder: how wedded are we to these approaches? How much is this cycle of ideas an attempt to codify “good teaching,” to pin down something that resists being pinned down?
The danger, perhaps, is that these cycles focus our gaze narrowly on methods, rather than on the systemic inequalities in education that shape children’s opportunities. As Dylan Wiliam reminds us, “everything works somewhere, nothing works everywhere.” Attempts to universalise and codify good teaching risk flattening the complex social, cultural, and relational dimensions of classrooms.
It’s also worth remembering that many of these frameworks emerge from attempts to bridge research and practice. Bloom (1956) from curriculum design; Rosenshine’s Principles of Instruction (2012), from cognitive psychology and classroom observation. Dual coding (Paivio, 1971) and cognitive load theory (Sweller, 1988) stem from similar cognitive science traditions. Each offers something valuable, but the danger is they can be misapplied when removed or stripped from context.
There’s also that recurring claim that “good teaching benefits all children.” That line has been repeated so often it feels almost unchallengeable. But who defines what good teaching looks like? Research from Louise Archer and colleagues on the Aspires Project has shown how STEM teaching practices often fail to recognise the cultural capital of working-class and minority ethnic pupils (Archer et al., 2012). Gloria Ladson-Billings’ concept of culturally relevant pedagogy (1995) reminds us that teaching is not value-neutral, and what counts as “good” in one context may reinforce inequity in another. When I’ve had the opportunity to see teaching practice across the world - from orphanages in Uganda, fee-paying schools in Zambia, in pupil referral units in London a context is what helps us develop a wider understanding. What is good teaching, in this place, in this time, between these people?
So perhaps instead of trying to codify good teaching into a checklist; objectives, taxonomies, visual scaffolds, we could look at asking different questions:
Whose knowledge is being valued and why?
Whose stories are recognised and valued?
Are there barriers; structural, cultural, linguistic, financial, that limit students’ opportunities to learn?
How do we make sure that relationships and belonging in the classroom that fall on the wayside?
Good teaching, then, might not be something we can ever fully codify. It might be less about what’s written on the board and more about what’s happening in the relationships, expectations, and recognition of children (and their teachers) as complex beings.
I am not sure you can codify good teaching but I don’t think that means we shouldn’t try - because I think that’s the way we try and become better at our craft.
Of course you can’t codify it. The bravest attempt at this is TLAC and look at the abusive systems that caused and continues to cause. Codify an art form and you take out the possibility of brilliance. Everyone becomes shit or, at best, average, but mainly shit. At my final school everyone but me and the maths consultant had to teach the same way. The kids hated it. (They also correctly predicted we’d both be sacked).