Last week I wrote about the risk of Year 7 becoming a reset point, and the question I think we should be asking at transition: what are pupils bringing with them, and what should we do with it next? This week I want to think about what that looks like in practice, based on some of the comments I received on LinkedIn.

One response: Go and look! One of the most striking things in the responses to that piece was how many people described the effect of secondary colleagues actually visiting primary classrooms. Heads of department went into Years 5 and 6. Science teachers saw the level of exploration and experimentation pupils were already experiencing. Secondary colleagues looked at primary books and curriculum plans. And assumptions changed. In one school, five heads of department visited feeder primaries as part of whole school professional development. The result was that Year 7 schemes of work changed. That is transition work. It wasn’t another form, or another data field, but professional curiosity about what pupils have already experienced, followed by curriculum decisions about what should happen next. And perhaps we should go younger still. One colleague made the point that secondary teachers should not only visit Years 5 and 6, but early years too. There is something powerful about seeing the level of curiosity, independence and intellectual engagement very young children are capable of. It becomes much harder to justify lowering expectations later.

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Another response: Ask the pupils! Barbara Bleiman made an important observation: why do we spend so much time passing information about pupils and so little time asking pupils themselves what they are bringing with them? She suggested that an early Year 7 English task might ask pupils about a picture book they once loved, a novel, graphic novel, poem or song that mattered to them, a piece of writing they are proud of, what they hope to do in English and what they might be anxious about. Imagine what that would tell us. Not simply about attainment, but about intellectual history, about identity as a reader and writer, about confidence, about what pupils remember and what they care about. Perhaps transition should include more opportunities for pupils to tell us the story of their learning so far, because they do not arrive in September as blank pages.

A further response: Variation is real. Of course, pupils arrive from different schools having had different experiences. Some secondary schools receive pupils from dozens of primaries. Attainment varies, curriculum coverage varies, what has been remembered varies. So we cannot simply say they have done this in primary, therefore everyone knows it. But neither should variation become the justification for resetting everyone to the lowest common denominator. The answer lies in careful curriculum thinking: what should we preserve, what needs retrieving, what should become deeper, what can pupils now do with this knowledge that they could not do before? There is an important distinction here between retrieval and repetition. Pupils forget things. That does not mean we need to start again. Sometimes pupils need help reconnecting with previous knowledge so that it can be strengthened and used in a more sophisticated way. That is very different from simply giving them the same experience again.

Another observation: Transition should continue into Year 7. In one example, Year 6 teachers visited their former pupils in October. They looked at Year 7 work. And sometimes they said to secondary colleagues: you can ask more of this pupil. That is such a powerful sentence, because transition had not ended in July. The conversation continued once pupils were actually in their new setting. The primary teachers brought knowledge of the pupil, knowledge of the previous curriculum and knowledge of what that child had already been capable of. That combination allowed secondary colleagues to raise rather than lower expectations. It reminds us that transition is not simply about transferring information. It is about building shared professional understanding.

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So, let’s keep the thread. The organisational boundary between Year 6 and Year 7 is real. The intellectual boundary need not be. Pupils arrive with books they have loved, ideas they have encountered, vocabulary they have acquired, things they can do, things they have forgotten and things they are proud of. Good transition begins by becoming curious about all of that, then asking: what do we preserve, what do we build, where do we need to retrieve rather than repeat? Cross-phase coherence does not begin with a transition document. It begins when teachers understand the intellectual journey of the subject beyond the part of it they personally teach. And when Year 7 is treated not as a fresh start, but as the next chapter.

Until next time

Mary

PS If this has prompted some thinking about transition and what we ask of pupils when they arrive in Year 7, there’s more in KS3: The Ambitious Years.

I have been having quite a few conversations about transition recently. I don’t mean transition as an administrative event or the spreadsheet passed from one school to another, or the meeting in July where information is exchanged about pupils. What I mean is the intellectual transition from one phase of education to the next.

And the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that one of the biggest risks at the end of Year 6 is that Year 7 becomes a reset point. Pupils arrive in secondary school having already spent seven years learning. They have read books, encountered ideas, built vocabulary, carried out investigations, written at length, made things, performed, argued, questioned and wondered. And yet secondary colleagues can sometimes be surprised by what pupils have already done.

The problem is that if we underestimate what pupils are bringing with them, we risk giving them less demanding work just at the point when we should be building on what they already know.

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I recently wrote on LinkedIn that primary is not preparation for secondary. A thoughtful response challenged that slightly. Each phase of life, the writer argued, does prepare us for what comes next. And I think that is right. My concern is with primary being reduced to preparation for secondary. Primary has intellectual value in its own right. Children are entitled to rich, demanding and worthwhile experiences now, not simply because those experiences will make them more successful later.

But good curriculum thinking also means recognising that learning has a journey. What happens in one phase should give pupils something substantial to build on in the next. So perhaps the better question at transition is not “Are these pupils ready for secondary school?” but “What are they bringing with them, and what should we do with it next?”

Until next time

Mary

I had a lovely conversation recently with Amy Staniforth and Stuart Pryke about Iceni Reads, a new whole-school reading initiative. What struck me most was not its complexity, but its simplicity.

Every day, pupils will hear a high-quality, challenging book read aloud by their tutor. And that’s it. There are no worksheets or routine comprehension exercises. There’s no requirement for pupils to read aloud themselves, and no elaborate resource packs. Just an adult, a group of young people and a good book.

I think there is something important here, because in education we can sometimes become suspicious of things that look too simple. If something is going to make a difference, we assume it must involve considerable preparation, lots of activity or something we can collect afterwards as evidence.

But activity is not the same thing as learning. Sometimes the apparent simplicity of a practice is precisely where its power lies.

When an adult reads aloud, pupils can access texts they might not yet be able to read fluently for themselves. Their listening comprehension can take them beyond their independent decoding. That means we don’t have to restrict pupils to material that matches their current reading age. We can take them into richer language, more demanding ideas and worlds they might not otherwise encounter.

The ambition sits in the text, and the support sits in the way pupils encounter it.

This is one of the reasons I think reading aloud is such a good example of high challenge, low threat. Some young people have learnt to associate reading with exposure. They might be asked to read a paragraph aloud, stumble over a word and worry that everyone else has noticed that they are struggling.

So one of the most important messages we can give them is very simple: you don’t need to do anything except listen.

There is still an expectation, because they do need to listen, but they don’t have to perform. They aren’t simultaneously being asked to decode, answer questions, write something down and demonstrate that they have understood. The intellectual challenge remains high while some of the unnecessary threat disappears.

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There is another lesson in the Iceni approach too. Amy and Stuart have thought carefully about what not to add. There might be a quick recap of where the class got to yesterday. There might occasionally be a word which genuinely needs explaining before it becomes a barrier to understanding. But they are resisting the temptation to stop every few minutes and interrogate the text.

Because much of our vocabulary develops through hearing words in context, and much of our understanding develops by staying with the story, sometimes we need to let the text breathe.

I think this principle has implications well beyond reading. One of the difficulties with good ideas in schools is that we keep adding things to them. We find something useful and then attach a worksheet, then a tracking sheet, then some success criteria and then a monitoring process. Then an expectation that somebody produces evidence that it happened!

Eventually the activity surrounding the thing becomes more substantial than the thing itself. It ‘s worth asking occasionally: what would happen if we kept the main thing the main thing?

There is something else about shared reading which is harder to measure but no less important. When everyone is listening to the same story, something collective happens. I’ve been in classrooms where the atmosphere changes. The concentration is different, because everyone is, temporarily, in the same place.

And pupils begin to have something in common to talk about: a character, an event, a line that made them laugh, a book they want to read next.

At Iceni, that is already beginning before the programme has formally started. After hearing that Year 7 would be reading The Hobbit, some pupils asked whether they might read The Lord of the Rings later in their school careers.

That seems to me a rather wonderful sign.

We sometimes talk about building a reading culture as though it requires an enormous strategy. Perhaps part of it is much simpler: put ambitious books into young people’s lives, give them someone who will read those books with them, protect the time, don’t make them prove something every few minutes, and let the reading breathe.

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Until next time

Mary

Good intentions are not enough, because the support we offer can become the ceiling we impose.

Most practices that put limits on pupils’ learning don’t begin with low expectations. They generally begin with good intentions. For example want pupils to experience success, we want to make difficult work manageable and we want to ensure that no one is left behind.

What often happens is that we simplify the text, or we shorten the task. We pre-teach every difficult word and we frequently place pupils into groups according to what we think they can manage.

Each decision may appear reasonable on its own, but taken together, they can quietly lower the intellectual ceiling. The problem is not support itself, because pupils need clear explanations, thoughtful modelling, carefully chosen examples and plenty of opportunities to practise. The problem comes when support changes the destination rather than helping pupils reach it.

What are we protecting pupils from?

It is worth asking what lies behind some of our decisions. Are we concerned that pupils will struggle? The fact is they probably will, because struggle is often part of encountering something worthwhile.

Are we anxious that a demanding text may contain unfamiliar vocabulary or complex ideas? It almost certainly will and that’s one reason for reading it.

There is a difference between making demanding material accessible and replacing it with something less demanding.Access is not the same as simplification.

A strong curriculum does not begin by asking, “What can these pupils cope with?” It begins by asking, “What is worth knowing?” and then considers how every pupil might be supported to encounter it.

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The scaffolding trap

Scaffolds can be useful, but they are not neutral. A sentence starter might help a pupil begin, or a model might make an unfamiliar process visible. A partially completed example might reduce unnecessary cognitive load.

The issue is that scaffolds can also become permanent structures. This is because pupils coften omplete the frame without having to think about how the ideas fit together. They fill gaps rather than construct an argument, and they become skilled at following the teacher’s pathway but less confident when the pathway is removed.

The question is not simply whether a scaffold helps pupils complete the task. The more important point is: what is the scaffold helping pupils learn to do independently, and when will it be removed?

Finished is not the same as learnt.

A completed worksheet might reassure us and a neat paragraph might suggest success. But if the pupil couldn’t reproduce the thinking without the frame, then the appearance of progress might be misleading.

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High challenge does not require high threat

One reason expectations are lowered is that challenge is often confused with threat. This is because if pupils are given demanding material and then made to feel foolish for not understanding it immediately, the experience is threatening. If the classroom moves on before pupils have had time to think, rehearse and revisit, again, the experience is threatening.

But none of this is an argument for reducing challenge, instead it’s an argument for reducing threat.

High challenge and low threat belong together.

We can give pupils ambitious texts while reading them aloud, pausing to explain and returning to important passages. We can ask difficult questions while allowing pupils time to think, discuss and refine their answers. We can teach demanding content while making it clear that confusion is not failure. Instead, it’s often the beginning of learning.

The most inclusive classrooms are not necessarily those in which the work is easiest. They are often those in which the intellectual work is taken seriously and pupils are given the time and support to participate in it.

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Expectations are communicated through the curriculum

Expectations are not expressed only through what teachers say, they are built into the work pupils are given. When some pupils routinely receive thinner texts, narrower questions and more fragmented tasks, they notice. They learn what adults believe they are capable of.

This can happen particularly at the points where we believe pupils need protecting: during transition, at the start of Year 7, in lower-attaining groups or where pupils have additional needs. While the intentions are compassionate, the consequences may not be.

If we treat Year 7 as an extended settling-in period, we risk communicating that serious intellectual work starts later. If pupils identified as lower attaining are given less access to the stories, ideas and disciplinary knowledge that make subjects meaningful, the gap does not close, it widens.

When something is difficult, it is worth asking what makes it difficult. Is it the underlying idea, the vocabulary, the structure of the task or a lack of prior knowledge? Which of these can be reduced without reducing the ambition?

Intellectual generosity

High expectations are sometimes presented as a matter of demanding more from pupils, but they also require more from us. They require us to select knowledge carefully, explain it clearly and provide sufficient time for pupils to encounter it more than once.

High expectations require us to resist premature judgements, and to distinguish between a pupil who can’t yet do something and a pupil who will never be able to do it.

They require intellectual generosity: assuming that important ideas belong to every pupil, and not reserving rich texts, complex questions and extended thinking for those who appear ready. Pupils don’t become ready for demanding work by being kept away from it. They become ready through supported participation in it.

Sometimes the greatest barrier is not the difficulty of the work, it is the limits we have placed around it on their behalf.

If KS3 ambition is on your radar, my new book KS3: The Ambitious Years explores what it takes to make Key Stage 3 count.

Until next time

Mary

It’s a scene many of us will recognise. A teacher spends much of the weekend marking, every book contains a careful comment. And on Monday, most pupils look at the grade and move on.

The comments are barely read, there’s is little time to improve the work, and the teacher is exhausted, but the system has been served.

This is not a failure of commitment, it’s what happens when we confuse the performance of assessment with the substance of learning.

In The Tyranny of Metrics, Jerry Muller describes “metric fixation”: the belief that complex professional work can be reduced to numerical indicators, that those indicators provide objective evidence of quality, and that attaching consequences to them will improve performance.

Schools are particularly vulnerable to this.

We want to know how pupils are doing, we want to identify where support is needed, and we want to assure parents, governors and leaders that pupils are making progress.

All of this is reasonable. However, the problem begins when the measure stops serving the work and starts becoming the work. At KS3, this often takes the form of grades, percentages, flight paths, RAG ratings and frequent data drops. The numbers give an impression of precision. A pupil has moved from a 4 to a 5. A class is above target. A department is showing expected progress.

However, precision is not the same as accuracy.

Internally generated KS3 data does not have the reliability of national assessments taken by large numbers of pupils, marked against common criteria and moderated at scale.

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A change in a number might represent better understanding. It might also reflect a harder task, a different marker, a change in curriculum content or ordinary variation in performance.

Yet once the number appears on a spreadsheet, it begins to acquire authority.

This is one of Muller’s central warnings. Numbers appear neutral, but decisions have already been made about what to measure, how to measure it and what to leave out. It often means that the things that are easiest to count gradually displace what matters most.

A powerful example comes from the story of two pupils learning music.

One pupil worked through a lengthy list of outcomes: identifying the colour of a guitar, counting its strings and plucking them. The boxes were ticked. Progress was recorded.

But the pupil never learned to play the guitar.

Another began with the genuine purpose of performing for an audience. The journey was less tidy and less easily captured, but over time the pupil learned chords, developed confidence and eventually performed an original composition.

The checklist recorded more, but the performance revealed more.

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Muller describes what happens when a measure becomes a target. People begin to optimise the indicator rather than the underlying purpose. In assessment, this can mean collecting information because the system requires it, rather than because it will change what happens next.

The test is administered, the grade is entered and the data meeting takes place.But what does the pupil now understand more securely? What will the teacher teach differently? What will change in the curriculum?

Matthew Evans calls this the “stock taker mindset”: counting things without asking what happens to learning as a result. This matters because all assessment is formative. Every grade, ranking, comment and test shapes something. It influences how pupils see themselves, how teachers see pupils and how classrooms respond to success and difficulty.

At KS3, when pupils are forming their identities as learners, these signals carry particular weight. However, this doesn’t mean abandoning assessment or refusing to use numbers. Muller’s argument is not that measurement is useless. It is that measures should inform professional judgement rather than replace it.

The challenge is not to generate ever more data. It is to become more intelligent readers of the evidence already in front of us. That means looking together at pupils’ work. It means discussing what pupils have understood, where misconceptions remain and whether the curriculum is producing the intellectual work we intended.

And it means asking a simple question of every assessment practice:

What happens next because we have done this?

If the answer is nothing, we should be honest about that. Sometimes the strongest evidence is a pupil’s improved work. Sometimes the most valuable assessment happens in a conversation. Sometimes the most professional thing a leader can do is collect less data and look more carefully at learning.

The good news is that we are already doing some great work on assessment.

The bad news is that it doesn’t always sit neatly on a spreadsheet!

Until next time

Mary

An ambitious English curriculum isn’t defined by how quickly pupils are moved towards GCSE and it’s not defined by the number of assessment objectives covered or the amount of writing pupils produce. Instead, it’s defined by what pupils encounter, what they understand and what they become capable of doing over time.

I recently spoke with colleagues at Healing Academy about the substantial redesign of their Key Stage 3 English curriculum.

What was striking was that it wasn’t one particular initiative, but rather the coherence between their decisions about texts, vocabulary, talk, reading and writing. They are treating Key Stage 3 as a substantial phase of education in its own right.

Starting with worthwhile content

The team has moved away from a thematic, skills-led model towards a curriculum built around demanding literary content.

Skills are not taught in isolation. Pupils develop their reading, writing and analytical capabilities through sustained engagement with carefully chosen texts.

And this distinction matters, because when curriculum planning begins with generic skills such as inference, analysis or creative writing, content can become little more than a vehicle for practising them.

But pupils cannot think critically about nothing.

They need stories, ideas, language, characters and moral questions that reward sustained attention.

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The team has also considered carefully the place of Key Stage 3 between primary and post-16 study. The curriculum shouldn’t repeat what pupils have already encountered, but equally it shouldn’t consist of texts cascaded down from A level simply because they are considered difficult.

Ambition is not the same as premature complexity.

The better questions are:

Is this text rich enough to reward attention?

Is it appropriate for pupils at this stage?

What support will enable every pupil to engage with it?

This is where high challenge and low threat come together.

Expanding pupils’ language

Because vocabulary development is central to the curriculum, the team teaches etymology and morphology, pre-teaches important vocabulary and gives pupils repeated opportunities to encounter and use words in different contexts.

The aim isn’t simply to provide definitions to memorise, it’s to develop curiosity about language. Students start asking where did a word come from? How is it constructed? How does its meaning change across different texts?

This is particularly important for pupils whose previous exposure to academic and literary vocabulary might have been limited. Too often, the response to gaps in vocabulary is to lower the intellectual demand. But that doesn’t close the gap, it preserves it.

What colleagues at Healing Academy have done is to increase access to rich language, accompanied by the teaching to help pupils make it their own.

Talk as a foundation for thought

Through the school’s work on oracy, pupils are being supported to speak in full sentences, project their voices and listen actively and respectfully.

These routines might sound simple, but they provide the foundations for sophisticated classroom dialogue, because pupils are more likely to formulate, test and refine ideas when they know how to contribute and trust that their contributions will be heard.

Critical thinking does not begin with a “critical-thinking task”. It begins with pupils having something worthwhile to think about, the language to express their thinking and the classroom conditions in which ideas can be explored safely.

Pupils cannot write from an empty well

Our discussion also turned to creative writing.

Pupils are sometimes asked to write independently before they have accumulated the language, structures and imaginative resources they need. However, writers learn by reading. They imitate, borrow, copy patterns, adapt sentences and experiment with effects they have encountered elsewhere.

We talked about how teaching creative writing might involve studying and imitating high-quality models, copying and adapting passages, examining sentence construction and composing jointly with the teacher. When teachers write in front of a class and talk through their choices, pupils see uncertainty, revision and improvement and it means that the normally hidden process becomes visible.

Writing becomes a process of deliberate decision-making rather than mysterious inspiration.

Coherence is the real strength

The strength of the work at Healing Academy does not lie in one novel, programme or initiative, it lies in the connections.

Text selection supports vocabulary development, vocabulary strengthens talk which enables thought. Reading high quality content provides the material and structures for writing, and teacher modelling helps pupils turn these into increasingly independent work.

This is what curriculum coherence looks like, it’s not a neat spreadsheet, but a clear account of how different elements combine to build pupils’ knowledge, language, confidence and intellectual independence over time.

The team is building an intellectually generous curriculum: one that introduces pupils to powerful texts and ideas and enables them to think, speak, read and write with increasing confidence.

This is not Key Stage 3 English as preparation for the “real work” of GCSE, it’s Key Stage 3 English being treated as valuable in itself, and that is where ambition begins.

KS3: The Ambitious Years explore show schools can make Years 7–9 purposeful, challenging and intellectually generous for every pupil.

You can find the book here.

Until next time

Mary

The headlines of a conversation with Pete Mattock on the Leading With... podcast

The main problem: too much, not enough depth

Most schools aren’t getting curriculum wrong, but the ones that misstep are trying to do too much. The national curriculum, particularly in subjects like music, art, design technology and geography, has left gaps that schools have tried to fill by cramming content in.

The result? A curriculum that’s a mile wide and an inch thick, as Dylan Wiliam would say.

Children don’t get the chance to explore bigger concepts because we’re ploughing through to cover everything. We need to think less about coverage and more about depth of meaning.

Architecture before bricks

There’s a tendency to go straight to the programmes of study and tick them off. What we should be doing first is looking at the purpose statements — those beautifully framed intentions about the difference a subject makes to young people’s lives.

Once we identify the big ideas, new knowledge becomes stickier. In geography, the big concept in physical geography is that the earth moves — everything follows from geomorphology. In history, it’s democracy: from ancient Greece to Magna Carta to the suffragettes, children’s understanding enlarges over time.

This is a leadership responsibility and it means creating time and space for this thinking.

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The power of narrative

Schools tapping into research on narrative are seeing remarkable results. The University of Sussex’s Faster Read study found that over 12 weeks of teachers reading aloud while pupils followed along, reading ages increased by 8.5 months. For lower-attaining readers, it was nearly double: 16 months.

When asked why they’d done so well, pupils said: “We don’t normally get the chance to do this interesting work.”

The diet for many struggling readers is phonics, decoding, SPaG and levelled readers. All necessary, but not sufficient. When we pitch above their pay grade, something shifts.

What high-quality provision looks like

Three criteria for the texts we use:

1. They look gorgeous, because that provokes curiosity

2. The tone treats children as intelligent human beings, too much is jazzed up or dumbed down

3. Rich tier three vocabulary, which does the heavy lifting

In classrooms working this way, there’s a different level of concentration. You can’t tell who has additional needs. There’s something that elevates learning through being read to.

And the paradox? It’s actually less work for the teacher.

The KS2-KS3 transition

What goes wrong at key stage three is that senior leaders and subject leaders aren’t asking: what have children learned up until this point?

I saw a curriculum plan this week where year seven’s first term in English was “an introduction to English”, as though they haven’t just had six years of it!

We have examples of children being taught content in year seven that they learned in year four. It’s one thing to say “I know you’ve learned this before — it’s difficult, we’re revisiting it.” It’s another to teach it as though they’ve never encountered it.

We wonder why children switch off. But it’s also insulting to primary colleagues, because it is dismissing rather than honouring their work.

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What’s working

Schools that are getting this right are sending secondary subject leads into primary moderation sessions. They’re blown away by what’s happening. One trust arranged 26 visits from secondary colleagues into primary schools. The science team discovered six weeks of their year seven programme was already covered.

We complain we don’t have enough time. But we don’t have enough time precisely because we keep repeating content.

And let’s stop calling them “feeder schools.” They’re partner primary schools. We don’t eat them in secondary!

The vocabulary question

Schools working on etymology are finding that children with the greatest language deficit make the greatest gains. When you ask those children about it, they say two things:

“We like finding this stuff out.”

And: “It makes me feel clever.”

I think that’s my job as an educator, to provide resources that make children feel clever.

The full episode of my conversation with Peter is here and here.

The book: KS3: The Ambitious Years explores how we move from the wasted years to something far more purposeful.

Until next time

Mary

What would it look like if Key Stage 3 genuinely mattered in its own right?

Leaders at The Kingsway School have been asking this question. Their response has not been to add another intervention or begin GCSE preparation earlier. Instead, they have reimagined Key Stage 3 as an intellectual and personal foundation.

I visited recently and was struck by the coherence. Curriculum, personal development, culture and pupils’ wider experiences are being considered together and the result is a model of Key Stage 3 with a clear identity and purpose.

Building intellectual momentum

The work began with curriculum coherence. The school is part of the Education Learning Trust which has strong primary partnerships. Year 7 is designed to build deliberately on prior learning. There is an important principle here. Transition should not mean starting again, rather it should mean moving forward.

Personal development as serious curriculum work

One of the most distinctive features is Politics, Philosophy and Economics - PPE - as a KS3 subject. It means that pupils encounter academic texts and a range of political, philosophical and ethical viewpoints. They are expected to develop the knowledge and language needed to examine those opinions critically, rather than just expressing them.

Personal development is too important to be reduced to occasional assemblies or themed days. At The Kingsway School, it is rooted in serious intellectual content, and it runs across the curriculum.

The Cultural Diploma

Across Years 7–9, pupils work towards bronze, silver and gold awards. The diploma includes opportunities to contribute to the community, explore new interests, encounter experiences beyond the classroom and reflect on personal development. Pupils present their achievements, making sense of what they have done, what they have learned and how they have changed.

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When I visited, I spoke with pupils completing the Gold Diploma. They talked about the confidence it had given them, the opportunity to explore new interests and the satisfaction of contributing to their communities. They were under no illusion about the commitment involved. This was additional work and yet they were motivated, both for its own sake and because they understood the opportunities it could create for their futures. That combination matters: challenge, agency and a clear sense of purpose.

These pupils were not simply collecting evidence for an award. They were able to explain how the experience had changed them.

This is high challenge and low threat in practice. The expectations are substantial, but pupils are supported to take ownership. The challenge is connected to meaningful experiences and a clear sense of personal growth.

Restoring purpose to Year 9

In too many schools, Year 9 begins to lose its purpose once pupils have chosen their GCSE options. The curriculum starts to feel like something to get through.

The Kingsway School has deliberately created a sense of culmination. Year 9 includes increased academic rigour, completion of the diploma, formal presentations and a graduation ceremony with families.

These rites of passage matter. They communicate that Years 7, 8 and 9 have value, they tell pupils that they have accomplished something significant. And they frame the move into Key Stage 4 as genuine progression, rather than escape from a phase that has quietly run out of purpose.

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Key Stage 3 needs a proper ending. Without one, we risk sending the message that the phase was merely preparatory.

What the pupils’ voices revealed

The impact of this work shows in how pupils talk about themselves. They describe becoming more confident, resilient and independent. They recognise that the diploma has widened their experiences, encouraged them to contribute beyond school and helped them think more seriously about their futures.

Young people do not always have the language to describe their own development. The diploma appears to give them both the experiences and the vocabulary through which to recognise it.

They can talk about what they have contributed, and they can identify the interests they have developed. They can explain where they have shown persistence. They can see connections between the work they are doing now and the adults they might become. That is personal development with substance.

Lessons for the sector

There is much here for other schools to consider.

The first is to treat Key Stage 3 as a phase, not a prelude. Status drives attention and if this phase is understood primarily as preparation for GCSE, then curriculum choices and pupils’ experiences will inevitably narrow.

The second is to begin with curriculum coherence. The diploma’s strength comes from sitting within a wider model of conceptual progression and serious disciplinary study.

The third is to root personal development in knowledge. Pupils need more than experiences, they also need the intellectual tools through which to interpret those experiences.

The fourth is to create meaningful agency. Choice on its own is not agency. Agency comes when pupils are given worthwhile opportunities, substantial expectations and the responsibility to reflect on what they have learned.

And the fifth is to build rites of passage. Graduation, presentations, celebrations and intellectual milestones give shape to a phase of education. They help pupils and families recognise that something important has been achieved.

Education with purpose

Key Stage 3 is not a waiting room for GCSE. At its best, it is an intellectual foundation, a cultural experience and a bridge towards adulthood.

The work at The Kingsway School shows what can happen when leaders move beyond trying to improve KS3 incrementally and instead reconsider the purpose of the phase.

The question shifts from simply: How do we prepare pupils for Key Stage 4? to: what knowledge, experiences, habits and dispositions should every young person develop during these three important years?

The Gold Diploma pupils I met had a clear answer. They spoke about their increased confidence, about the contribution they were able to make to other groups and communities. They spoke about new interests and future opportunities. And they were proud of the work they had done because it had asked something substantial of them.

That is what it means to make these the ambitious years.

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With thanks to Naomi Dean, Joel Sadler, the pupils and colleagues at The Kingsway School for sharing their thoughtful and important work.

I explore these ideas further in KS3: The Ambitious Years — Why Years 7–9 Matter More Than We Think.

What would shift if your school gave Year 9 a proper ending?

Until next time

Mary

A low-pitched KS3 is an inconvenience for some pupils.

For others, it closes doors, and that’s because pupils with plenty of academic support beyond school can usually compensate. They have the vocabulary, the background knowledge, the wider reading. It means that if school doesn’t stretch them, something else will.

But for pupils who rely on school to open doors, a thin KS3 is a ceiling.

This is the equity argument for ambition.

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When we lower the pitch to be kind, we don’t remove the difficulty. Instead, we simply shift it, very often into Year 10, into interventions, and into gaps that become harder to close later on.

High expectations, well scaffolded, are not a luxury for high prior attainers, they are the entitlement of every child.

We keep asking “What can they cope with?” when we should be asking “What do they deserve access to?”

Too often the KS3 curriculum is pitched low because it feels safer.

This is one of the themes I explore in KS3: The Ambitious Years available here.

Until next time

Mary

How do we know what pupils have learned?

It sounds simple. But once we unpick it, things get complicated. Because assessment is not the same as data collection. And feedback is not the same as marking. And a number on a spreadsheet is not the same as understanding.

Across Key Stage 3, we’ve accumulated assessment practices that began with good intentions. We wanted to know how pupils were getting on. We wanted to identify gaps. We wanted to reassure parents and governors.

But over time, the system has become heavier than the learning it was meant to support.

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Teachers spend hours generating grades that aren’t always as reliable as they appear. Leaders pore over spreadsheets that may not be telling them what they think. Pupils receive marks but don’t always get the time or clarity to act on them.

The danger is that the numbers look precise. But precision is not the same as accuracy.

One helpful distinction: data collection gives us snapshots. Assessment practice is the ongoing work of finding out what pupils know. Feedback is what helps pupils improve, and what matters is not the volume, but whether pupils understand it and have time to act on it.

We can have a great deal of data and very little assessment. We can have a great deal of marking and very little feedback. And we can have a great deal of activity and very little learning.

The question is always: what changes as a result?

I’ll be exploring this at the Festival of Education, and it’s one of the central themes in KS3: The Ambitious Years — available here.

Until next time

Mary

Too many lesson observations focus on performance. Is the teacher confident? Is the explanation clear? Is the pace right? Is there a plenary?

These things matter. But they can all be present in a lesson where very little learning is actually happening.

The harder question is: what are pupils thinking? Are they grappling with the material? Are they making connections? Are they using the vocabulary of the subject with increasing precision?

When we observe teaching without attending to learning, we miss the point.

A lesson can look polished and leave pupils no further forward. A lesson can feel messy and be full of genuine thinking. The surface doesn’t tell us enough.

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This matters because what we look for shapes what teachers prioritise. If observations reward performance, teachers will perform. If they reward evidence of pupil thinking, teachers will design for thinking.

The shift isn’t about being harder on teachers. It’s about being more honest about what we’re trying to see.

What would change if your observations started with the question: what are pupils understanding, and how do we know?

I explore this further in KS3: The Ambitious Years and it’s available here

Until next time

Mary

Overrated: Racing through schemes of work.

Underrated: Staying with one idea until pupils genuinely understand it.

I watched a Year 7 RE lesson recently where the teacher did something unusual. She stayed with the concept of covenant in Judaism for three lessons.

Not because pupils were struggling. Because they were thinking.

By the third lesson, pupils were noticing things they had missed on day one. The weight of mutual obligation. The difference between a contract and a covenant and the signifance for different communities today.

They were using words like “sacred,” “binding,” and “unconditional” with precision.

This is what depth looks like. Not slower. Richer.

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But our schemes of work often work against this. They are built around coverage: move on, tick off, get through. The pressure to finish the unit becomes the pressure to leave understanding behind.

When we rush, pupils receive a message: the content matters more than your thinking about it.

When we stay, they receive a different message: your understanding is worth the time.

Coverage is not rigour, depth is.

What would change if your schemes of work gave teachers permission to stay longer with the ideas that matter most?

This is one of the central themes in KS3: The Ambitious Years which I hope you find helpful.

Until next time

Mary

I’ve been in schools where reading time feels like a gift. And schools where it feels like a fix.

The difference isn’t resources, and it isn’t timetabling, it’s positioning.

In some schools, reading is squeezed into the edges: a catch-up slot, an intervention programme, something we do when there’s time. Pupils notice. They receive a message: this is extra, this is remedial, this is not the real work.

In other schools, reading sits at the heart of curriculum thinking. It’s not an add-on. It’s how pupils build vocabulary they wouldn’t encounter independently. It’s how they access knowledge that opens doors across subjects. It’s how they develop confidence, belonging, and a sense of themselves as learners.

Reading is not an initiative. It is core curriculum work.

And when we treat it that way, something shifts, not just in outcomes, but in culture. Pupils begin to see reading as purposeful, not prescribed. Staff begin to see it as shared, not siloed. And families begin to see it as something the school genuinely values, not something ticked off a list.

This is what I mean by a reading vision that is lived, not laminated.

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If this resonates, we’ve done a free webinar led by Abbie Ing from The Teachers’ Collection:

𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹

Abbie explored:

- Why reading belongs at the centre, not the edges

- A practical process for reflecting on your current reading culture

- How to involve pupils, staff and families in shaping a vision that is honest, ambitious and rooted in your school’s context

This session is for school leaders, English leads, curriculum leads, teachers and support staff who want reading to feel purposeful, shared and genuinely alive.

You can access it here.

I hope you find it helpful.

Mary

It’s been almost a week since 𝘒𝘚3: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 was published, and I wanted to pause and share something of what this week has felt like.

I’ve been genuinely moved by the responses coming in.

Reviews and reflections on LinkedIn and X. Messages from colleagues I haven’t spoken to in years. Notes from teachers saying the book has put words to something they’ve been feeling but couldn’t quite articulate.

One line from Sam Gibbs’s review has stayed with me:

“𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘶𝘹𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯; 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭.”

That is exactly what I hoped the book would say. And hearing it reflected back has reminded me why it mattered so much to write.

Because KS3 is not a holding pattern.

It is not a warm-up for GCSE.

It is not where ambition should dip while we all wait for the “serious” years to begin.

Years 7, 8 and 9 are where pupils build the knowledge, confidence, habits and sense of belonging that shape everything that follows. They are where we either raise the intellectual pitch or quietly lower it. And pupils notice. They always notice.

When we get KS3 right, we give young people something powerful: access to the richness of subjects, time to think deeply, and the message that these years matter.

When we get it wrong, when we simplify texts, repeat primary content, or treat Year 7 as a soft landing, we don’t remove the difficulty. We move it. Into Year 10. Into intervention. Into gaps that are harder to close.

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Writing this book made me a learner again.

I visited schools and trusts. I asked questions. I expected to hear that pupils weren’t ready for demanding work in Year 7. Instead, I heard teachers say: “They’re more capable than we give them credit for.”

I expected to find curriculum gaps. Instead, I found curriculum repetition when the same content, pitched lower, was taught again.

I expected the problem to be resources. It wasn’t. It was assumptions about what pupils could handle, about what Year 7 was for.

The schools getting this right weren’t waiting. They were raising the pitch from September, offering rich texts, sharp questions, high expectations. And pupils were responding.

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So thank you, to everyone who has read, shared, reviewed or recommended the book. I am so grateful.

And more importantly, I’m heartened that this conversation is gathering momentum. Because KS3 deserves our attention. Not as a bridge. Not as a waiting room. But as the foundation.

The ambitious years are now.

If you’d like to read more, the book is available here

Until next time,

Mary

For too long, KS3 has been treated as the bit in between.

Not quite primary and not yet GCSE. It’s often been treated as a bridge or a waiting room. A place where ambition quietly becomes diluted.

This week, the inspection copy of KS3: The Ambitious Years arrived. And holding it, I realised something I hadn’t quite anticipated: the argument now has a physical form.

Years of conversations with school leaders and many classroom visits. The same pattern, again and again: KS4 compensating for what KS3 didn’t secure. All of it, now bound between two covers.

Because Years 7, 8 and 9 are not spare years.

They are where pupils build the knowledge, vocabulary, reading stamina and confidence that make later success possible. They are where we either raise the intellectual pitch or quietly lower it. And pupils notice. They always notice.

If we lower the level of challenge at KS3, we don’t remove the difficulty.

We move it. We move it into Year 10, into intervention, into workload and into gaps that are harder to close.

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This book is my attempt to make the case for something better:

• Depth before pace — securing understanding rather than racing through content

• Rich, demanding texts — trusting pupils with complexity from the start

• Secure knowledge and vocabulary — building the foundations that make later learning possible

• High expectations for every pupil — not just the most confident

• Thinking over task completion — prioritising genuine intellectual engagement

The argument isn’t new. But I hope the book brings it together in a way that’s useful for leaders asking hard questions about curriculum, for teachers who already know something isn’t working, and for anyone who believes KS3 deserves more than it currently gets.

KS3 isn’t the bridge. It’s the foundation.

KS3: The Ambitious Years is now published, available here

Thank you to everyone who has encouraged, challenged and sharpened this work along the way. Writing is solitary, but the thinking behind it never is.

Until next time,

Mary

A case study from Lingfield Primary School

At Lingfield Primary School, 40% of pupils are considered vulnerable in some respect including those with pupil premium, special educational needs, and adverse childhood experiences.

And yet pupil premium pupils are now outperforming their non-pupil premium peers in reading.

This isn’t an accident, it’s the result of deliberate, sustained work over many years.

The numbers

Over the last four years, the school has achieved over 92% in the phonics screening check. This year, 97% are on track.

Of the children receiving before and after school reading support, 96% have made accelerated progress.

The school also achieved 45% greater depth in Year 6 reading.

These are significant outcomes for any school. For a school serving a community with high levels of vulnerability, they’re remarkable.

The challenge

Charlotte Bunyan, Assistant Head and reading lead, has worked at Lingfield for 12 years. She recognised early on that while many parents want to support their children’s reading, they don’t always know what effective reading at home looks like.

Some parents lack confidence with phonics. Some face practical barriers around time and routines. Some families need additional support because of English as an additional language, work patterns, or other circumstances.

The school’s response has been to combine high expectations with high support: making regular reading an expectation, while helping families find practical, realistic ways to make it happen.

Starting early

The reading culture begins in nursery and preschool. Children take home “discovery bags” containing a high-quality text and related resources—puzzles, puppets, small-world figures, fine motor activities. Each bag includes guidance for parents, giving them ideas for how to use the text and resources with their child.

As children become ready for phonics, they receive carefully matched books linked to the school’s phonics scheme, alongside reading for pleasure books. This means children are supported with decoding and fluency while still having access to rich language, vocabulary and enjoyable stories.

From the very beginning, the message is clear: reading matters, and we’ll help you make it work.

Making expectations explicit

Reading is made visible across the school’s work with families: during parent tours, welcome meetings, workshops and ongoing conversations.

Parents are expected to return books, look after them and enjoy them with their children, but this is framed positively and with support. The school encourages families to read regularly, ideally every day and at least five times a week where possible.

Staff work with parents to find flexible routines: reading in the morning, during swimming lessons, at other points in the week. The expectation is clear, but the approach is realistic.

Demystifying reading

A key part of the approach is helping parents understand what reading with a child can actually look like.

Through workshops and showcases, parents are shown practical strategies. Staff model phonics, explain terminology and provide guidance so that parents feel confident rather than overwhelmed.

Where parents haven’t attended a workshop, teachers follow up individually, offering short catch-up conversations. This keeps the tone supportive rather than judgmental.

The school has also built routines that make reading feel valued and enjoyable:

• Reading showcases showing progression from preschool to Year 6

• Mystery readers, where family members surprise children by reading in class

• Parent reading moments at the end of the day

• Reading spines linked to curriculum topics

• A book vending machine where children can win books for their class library

• Class readers and regular exposure to demanding, high-quality texts

These routines create a culture in which children want to read, talk about books and share stories.

Additional support for families who need it

For families who find home reading difficult, Lingfield has developed before and after school reading support.

Teachers, teaching assistants and other adults give short, regular reading slots to pairs of children, usually around ten minutes, at least three times a week.

This support is particularly valuable for families facing additional barriers: families with English as an additional language, working parents, and children from vulnerable groups.

It’s a small intervention, but repeated consistently, it compounds.

What made the difference

The strength of the approach lies in its consistency. Reading is not treated as a one-off initiative, but as a set of small, deliberate actions repeated over time.

The school has built relationships with families, made expectations explicit, removed barriers, provided practical modelling and kept the joy of reading at the centre.

As Charlotte put it: the most important thing is to build relationships with parents and help them understand both what the school is trying to achieve and the difference they can make.

This is what equity looks like

Not simplifying the curriculum. Not lowering the bar.

But removing barriers while keeping expectations high. Building relationships with families. Making the expectation clear and then helping them meet it.

High challenge, high support, from the very start.

Ten to fifteen minutes of reading, repeated consistently, can be transformational.

What would change if more schools combined high expectations with high support from nursery onwards?

Until next time,

Mary

PS A training day for primary colleagues on The Teachers’ Collection

If you are a primary leader thinking about INSET in the new academic year, we are running a day’s online session on reading across the curriculum and there are more details here.

The DfE white paper makes the expectation clear: literacy is not the preserve of the English department. It belongs to every teacher, in every subject, from the earliest years.

For primary colleagues, this is both an affirmation and a challenge.

An affirmation, because the best primary teaching has always understood that vocabulary, reading and writing run through everything: through science investigations, historical enquiry, geographical fieldwork, the arts, and the language of number.

A challenge, because embedding literacy meaningfully across the curriculum requires more than good intentions. It requires explicit teaching of subject-specific vocabulary and it requires reading and writing to be woven into the fabric of lessons, not bolted on as an afterthought.

And this matters because the messages we give pupils about reading are not only found in our policies, they’re evident in the choices we make each day.

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Reading aloud is not a soft option

In a conversation with a headteacher this week, she said something that I’ve been reflecting on: teachers in her school enjoy reading to their classes. They value it and they know pupils enjoy it too.

But they do not always see it as the best use of their time.

That is such an important point.

Because if reading aloud is seen as a lovely thing to do, but not a central part of curriculum work, then it will always be vulnerable. Vulnerable to being squeezed out, to being replaced by another task, or to the idea that “proper learning” lies elsewhere.

But reading to pupils is not a soft option and it’s not a pause from learning.

It is learning.

When pupils hear rich texts read aloud, they are given access to vocabulary, syntax, knowledge and ideas that they may not yet be able to manage independently. They hear how complex language works. They encounter words in context. They build background knowledge. They experience the rhythm and structure of disciplinary language.

Literacy is the route into the curriculum

Literacy across the curriculum is not about every teacher becoming an English teacher.

It is about every teacher recognising that pupils cannot think deeply in a subject if they cannot access its language. This is particularly important for pupils who do not arrive at school with large reserves of vocabulary, background knowledge and reading experience. For these pupils, the curriculum has to do more of the heavy lifting.

Reading aloud, shared reading, careful vocabulary teaching and purposeful writing are not extras. They are part of the route into the curriculum.

The white paper sets the direction. The question for primary leaders is whether their schools have the tools, the training and the professional culture to deliver on it.

A training day for primary colleagues

This is why we are running an online training day on Tuesday 1 September, designed specifically for primary colleagues from Reception to Year 6.

This is not generic CPD.

It is practical, curriculum-focused and grounded in what the research and policy now demand. It is for schools that want to get this right from the start of the new academic year, not as an add-on, but as a foundation.

Because when literacy belongs to every teacher, every pupil gains access to more of the curriculum.

If you are a primary leader thinking about September INSET, It’s worth taking a look and there are more details here.

Until next time,

Mary

Story-rich and ready

One school started with a simple question: what would happen if every pupil, regardless of home background, encountered demanding, engaging texts every day?

The answer was striking.

Pupils who had not previously identified as readers began asking for books. Summer-born boys who had struggled to engage started requesting Philip Pullman novels as Christmas presents. Confidence, vocabulary and stamina grew. SATs results improved.

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And this was not a complex intervention. It was curriculum work.

➡️ Teachers read high-quality books aloud.

➡️ Pupils followed the text together.

➡️ Discussion, vocabulary and understanding deepened through shared attention.

➡️ Six class novels each year from Year 1 to Year 6.

By the end of primary school, children had encountered nearly 40 substantial books as part of their normal curriculum experience.

The success lay in leadership commitment. The approach expanded because leaders recognised its impact and gave it status across the school. Teachers enjoyed the books and communicated that enjoyment to pupils. High-quality texts were not reserved for the already confident, they were an entitlement for all.

This challenges the assumption that struggling readers need a reduced or simplified diet. At St Mary’s, pupils responded positively to ambitious texts when the conditions were right. The key was not lowering expectations but removing barriers.

The message is clear: reading improvement does not have to begin with complex interventions. It can begin with a strong curriculum entitlement.

📚 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀’ 𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗧 𝗗𝗮𝘆

𝗧𝘂𝗲𝘀𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝘀𝘁 𝗦𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟲

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆-𝗥𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆

Join us to explore how your school can make rich reading every child’s entitlement from day one, available for schools on The Teachers’ Collection, more here.

Until next time,

Mary

One school reached the first percentile nationally for greater depth in reading.

Not through a reading intervention and not through extra booster sessions but hrough the curriculum.

One primary headteacher and her colleagues took a deliberate approach: they embedded quality texts from The Teachers’ Collection directly into the foundation curriculum. Science, history, geography first. Then art, design and technology, and across the wider curriculum.

The results speak for themselves:

📚 Reading outcomes that exceeded all expectations

📚 Pupils asking more questions, making connections, showing genuine curiosity

📚 Teachers describing themselves as “inspired” by having beautiful materials to work with

📚 Pupils with additional needs accessing demanding texts and making strong progress

What made the difference wasn’t simply the books. It was leadership.

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Subject leaders were given time to choose texts that would deepen the curriculum. The books were made visible across the school. Pupils’ questions became “Curiosity Sparks”, moments of micro-learning woven through the day.

The texts did double duty: inspiring children across subjects while strengthening reading outcomes. Curriculum and reading improvement, not as separate initiatives, but as the same work.

The message is clear: the methodology matters. When quality texts are built into the curriculum structure, not treated as an optional extra, impact follows.

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𝗝𝗼𝗶𝗻 𝘂𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝟭 𝗦𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿

We’re running a curriculum inset day from 09:30 to 12:30 to help schools create a brilliant curriculum using The Teachers’ Collection.

Schools with a subscription can send as many staff as they like to the online sessions.

If you’re ready to strengthen your curriculum through quality texts, this is your moment.

👉 Explore The Teachers’ Collection

👉 You can join here

Until next time

Mary

How ambitious is your Key Stage 3, really?

Not the version in your curriculum policy. Not the one described in your school improvement plan. The one pupils actually experience, lesson by lesson, across Years 7, 8 and 9.

It’s a question worth sitting with. Because KS3 is not a waiting room for GCSEs. It’s where intellectual identity begins to form. Where habits of mind take root. Where the gap between pupils either closes, or widens.

What follows is not a checklist for judgement. It’s a framework for honest self-review. Most schools will find strengths in some areas and gaps in others. That’s the point. The question isn’t whether you score ten out of ten. It’s whether you’re willing to look clearly at what’s there.

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The 10 Signals

1. Year 7 pupils encounter genuinely new content that builds on, rather than repeats, their primary experience.

The transition information gap is real. Secondary schools receive data, but rarely curriculum information. In the absence of that knowledge, the professional default is to begin again. But pupils notice when material is thin. They arrive ready for more, and we owe them progression, not repetition.

2. Demanding texts are read aloud in lessons across subjects, not only in English.

Reading aloud builds stamina, vocabulary, and confidence. It signals that the text matters. When demanding texts appear only in English, we inadvertently suggest that other subjects don’t require the same intellectual effort. They do.

3. Subject leaders can articulate the big ideas of their discipline and how they develop across three years.

Curriculum coherence isn’t about coverage. It’s about knowing what matters most in your subject and being able to trace how that understanding deepens from Year 7 to Year 9. If subject leaders can’t articulate this, the curriculum is probably a collection of topics rather than a progression of thought.

4. The most experienced teachers work across all year groups, including Years 7 and 8.

Where your strongest teachers are deployed says everything about what you value. If KS3 is staffed by the newest or least experienced, you’re signalling. intentionally or not, that these years matter less. They don’t.

5. Assessment is designed to inform teaching, not to generate data for spreadsheets.

Assessment should tell teachers something useful about what pupils have understood and what needs to happen next. When it becomes a data-generation exercise, it loses its formative power and consumes time that could be spent on curriculum thinking.

6. Every pupil, regardless of background, prior attainment, or SEND, is expected to engage with challenging material.

This is the equity argument for ambition. A low-pitched KS3 is an inconvenience for some pupils. For others, those without reserves of cultural capital to draw on it results in widening gaps. High expectations, well scaffolded, aren’t a luxury, yhey are the entitlement of every child.

7. Department meetings are dominated by curriculum thinking, not administration.

What happens in department time reveals what a school truly prioritises. If meetings are consumed by logistics, data entry, and compliance, there’s no space left for the conversations that actually improve teaching: What are we teaching? Why? How well are pupils understanding it?

8. The curriculum reflects the full breadth of human intellectual achievement, including perspectives that have historically been absent.

An ambitious curriculum is not a narrow one. It introduces pupils to the richness of human thought, including voices and traditions that have been marginalised. This isn’t about tokenism, it’s about intellectual honesty.

9. Behaviour is strong because the work is worth doing, not because the sanctions are severe.

When pupils are genuinely engaged in demanding, meaningful work, behaviour tends to follow. This doesn’t mean sanctions don’t matter. It means that curriculum quality is a behaviour strategy, and one that’s often underestimated.

10. Senior leaders can describe, in some detail, what pupils are learning in Years 7, 8 and 9, and why.

If senior leaders can’t talk with specificity about KS3 curriculum content, it suggests that KS3 isn’t receiving the strategic attention it deserves. Leadership visibility signals value, and KS3 needs to be valued.

This isn’t about arriving at a score. It’s about prompting reflection — ideally with your leadership team or heads of department.

Some questions to consider:

• Which of these signals are genuinely strong in your school?

• Which would prompt the most uncomfortable conversation?

• Where are the gaps structural, and where are they cultural?

• What would need to change for one of these signals to shift?

If you’re a leader preparing for September, this might be a useful starting point. Not as a stick, but as a mirror.

KS3 is where the story begins. It deserves to be written with ambition.

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This framework is drawn from my work on KS3 curriculum design. If you’re rethinking what’s possible in Years 7–9, my book KS3: The Ambitious Years explores these ideas in depth.

Until next time

Mary