A number of years ago, sitting in a cosy office, with Executive Headteacher ‘Liz’, I had heard all about the challenges that a rural infant school was facing. Every child that she mentioned had a different kind of problem. Some were still in the early stages of learning to speak English; others were already speaking English as their additional language but not yet reading, and there was no way of knowing whether there were other factors such as dyslexia, attention deficit or another neurodivergence, that might account for all the issues that the teachers were dealing with. Staff retention was also a concern and I could see from the change in Liz’s pallor that she was not happy with the situation, especially as Ofsted was due quite soon. There was a feeling of relief when I explained that, based on all the results I already had, she would most likely see an improvement in the children’s attention and reading after week three of the Rhythm for Reading Programme.

Together, we watched a two minute video, which showed children engaged in the rhythm-based exercises of the group intervention and we also learned from the Deputy Head of that school that after only four weeks, the children were more engaged, and were able to comprehend and predict what was coming up in their reading.

After watching the video we talked about the Rhythm for Reading programme and how it first began. When I explained how Ofsted had actually been involved, Liz was astonished and thought that I must have been ‘very scared’ at the time. Actually, I had really enjoyed my first encounter with Oftsed and this is how it happened.

I felt I was 'failing'

About thirty years ago, shortly after John Major’s Government established ‘Ofsted’ (Elliott, 2012), I received a call from the senior leadership team of a primary school. A group of year five pupils, who were eligible for ‘Free School Meals’ were struggling with anger management, were disruptive and had fallen far behind in their attainment in terms of age expectation. Could I help?

The school called me because I had built a bit of a name for myself in the local Music Service. My phone would ring almost every day with new offers of work. I was keen to keep the momentum going and listened with interest as the class teacher described the complex behavioural problems of these children. Little did I know that my whole world was about to change.

My first experience of teaching these children taught me so much, as they were not able to learn in the conventional way that I was used to teaching. After twenty minutes of my most upbeat efforts, in which I launched a stream of activities and learning games, there came a dismal moment: I admitted to myself that they were not learning anything at all. The children seemed to read my mind and their brave exuberance drained out of their pale little faces. There was a strange moment of utter stillness. I could see dread in their eyes. It would be too easy to say ‘this was not for them’ in a very kind way, and I didn’t want this to end in ‘defeat’ for anyone. On the other hand, what alternative was there?

I looked out over the playground and the fields, the line of trees and puffy clouds and wondered if the answer lay outside, outdoors, in nature. I asked them what they liked to do after school and they boasted about their footballing skills. They lived on the same estate. Of course, I had perhaps made an obvious mistake - I had tried so many things already, but I had forgotten all about their feet. I quickly discovered that they were so much more comfortable when they were standing up and using their feet. The same exuberant efforts went into a new ‘footwork game’. Everything they did began in chaos, but this time was different - at least I could see that they wanted to improve the way they were moving their feet. Finally, they were learning - at last there were signs of progress!

Rhythm-based learning

Each week, we would spend a few minutes working first with their feet and they gradually built control and extended their focus. All the while, I would keep one eye on the glass door, nervous that someone might ask me what I thought I was doing. It felt so very dangerous to try something new. Weeks turned into months and they could play well known songs by ear on the cello, and had developed a solid technique. They had made faster progress than I’d expected, based on teaching other children of the same age, and one day, I announced that we were going to learn to read musical notation.

Once again, all the colour drained from their faces. They were agitated, anxious and horrified by this idea, protesting that it would be too hard.

"After all these lessons, do you really think I would allow you to struggle?" I asked.

The following week, I introduced the group to very simple notation and developed a system that would allow them to retain the name of each musical note with ease, promoting reading fluency right from the start. This system, now an integral part of the Rhythm for Reading Programme, was first developed for these children, who according to their class teacher, were neither able to focus their attention, nor to learn along with the rest of the class.

After only five minutes, the children were delighted to discover that reading musical notation was not so difficult after all. They shrieked with glee when they realised that they were fluent and that it was easy! There was a wonderful atmosphere of triumph in the room that day.

My first encounter with 'Ofsted'.

After six months, the entire group had developed a repertoire of elementary pieces that they could play together and as individuals. I had been vigilant every single week, watching the door to make sure that my unconventional teaching method - (which meant that learning was done standing rather than sitting) was not seen.

One day, just as the children had finished the rhythm-based exercises, there was a knock at the door and ‘Mr Brown’, the Headteacher came in, ashen faced. I was so concerned and felt certain that someone had reported me for using an unconventional approach. I smiled and waited for him to speak. The children may have picked up on my fear and sat still, barely breathing.

We could not have been more surprised when ‘Mr Brown’ asked the children to play in full school assembly in front of 'Ofsted' Inspectors on the final day of the inspection. Everyone was thrilled when I said, “Yes of course!”

The children wanted to be ‘celebrities’ and this would be their moment. As their playing was already very good, we practised announcing, and taking applause with an elegant bow. Their stagecraft was actually great and I looked forward to their big day. For me, as a visitor, this was a huge honour and I was simply delighted that these children, with all their complex behaviours were going to receive applause from the whole school.

They played as a group and as soloists. Each child announced the title and composer of their chosen piece, played impeccably, took applause with such grace, and then walked with their instrument to the side of the hall. At the end of the assembly, the children (who I was told were now working at age expectation in the classroom) were invited to join the school orchestra and sit alongside their more privileged peers. The 'Ofsted' team placed the school in the top category, ‘Outstanding’.

At that time I had no idea that in the future, I would retell this story so often - in conferences, in my PhD, to headteachers and now to you. I think that the most important ‘takeaway’ is that these pivotal moments when we choose a new path - and do so for the benefit of others - can prove to be the most exciting decisions of all, as unimaginable new possibilities can open up for everyone.

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Reference

Elliott, A (2012) Twenty years inspecting English schools, Ofsted, 1992-2012, Rise Review, November 2012,accessed 4.9.2024,