February half term this year has felt a little different: I’m reacclimatising to the UK weather and time zone after seven days spent in Singapore as part of the DfE and British Council’s 'Building Educational Bridges' programme. It’s not just the jet lag and the need to wear a cardi that’s causing me to feel strangely ajar; it’s what I’ve seen and heard; it’s who I’ve been with; it’s the sense of being forever changed as a result of holding two very different education systems up to the light and chasing the rainbows that appear as a result.
The Lion City has a strongly cohesive, effective education system where teachers are respected and leaders revered. There is a national pride in and reliance on the education system to enable the economy to flourish and ensure a sustainable future for the nation, and public service is a source of significant national pride.
Headteachers are dedicated civil servants, posted to their schools by the Ministry of Education and re-posted at regular intervals in a broadly militaristic way. Teachers are paid to train and bonded in to the system for at least three years, with clearly identified career development pathways determined almost at the outset of their career. The links between the Ministry of Education, the National Institute of Education and schools are clearly articulated and the role of each is defined as part of an interdependent system: everybody knows what their role is, and everybody cares about doing it well for the good of the nation.
I am A Singaporean Headteacher. I lead and love a school community and use my considerable skill set to enable the best in everyone. I do this as an act of national service, and when [not if] I am called upon by the Ministry to move to a new setting, or even out of school altogether, I will do so with a strong sense of my commitment to Singaporean education, and a deep trust in the ministry to have made the decision in the best interests of the Singaporean students in my care, and those beyond: I am a Singaporean Headteacher.
Since becoming an independent city state in 1965, the Singaporean consciousness has been filled with a desire to be world-leading in its business and technological acumen: a desire fuelled in part by an underlying alertness to having few natural resources with which to barter on the world stage. The national narrative is one of success because of an intentional focus on growing "people as our only resource” and recognising that the country’s sustainability lies at least partly in an exceptional educational offer amid political stability and clarity of purpose. "We built a nation. And we started with education.” It is impossible to consider the Singaporean education system separately from the culture, politics and history of this extraordinary nation: it is successful because of the country’s narrative and the more international success the education system enjoys, the stronger the national narrative becomes.
I found it easiest to consider Singapore as if it was a school trust, and to take the learning from this 58-year-old 300-school trust for myself. The mission and vision are achingly clear, and the roles in the system are clearly defined. The trust’s narratives are curated and storytelling plays a significant role in both the present and the future success of the organis[n]ation. Leaders place deep trust in those most senior, and the decisions made by those at the very top of the organis[n]ation are both research-informed and practitioner-led, so that headteachers in particular have a strong sense of strategic direction and significant influence to demonstrate this creatively within their own domain, in order to ensure national objectives are locally meaningful, powerful and effective.
There is system coherence and personal and professional dedication to the wider goals, with intellectual rigour and room for dissonance and debate, and quite remarkably we saw no evidence of egos. The headteachers we spent time with and those colleagues we encountered from different part of the Ministry of Education and National Institute of Education appeared to have a deep and intoxicating collegiality and respect for one another, as remarkable leaders in their own right, in a system established to make a country great.
There is a consciousness that some of the methods that have achieved international success may not have always ensured individual personal fulfilment and well-being, that there is room for more diversity of pathway within the system. This checked out with my taxi driver on one longer morning commute, as he explained to me that though the education system is the envy of the world, "there hasn’t to date been much choice”. Having been educated to a high standard himself, he has enjoyed a career in tech which has taken him to silicon valley to live, to China, to the UK – "but really, I wanted to drive a taxi. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been.” He tells me his son’s first choice of career would be as a pianist "but that’s not the path he has been set on” and though he brims with national pride in a way that seems characteristically Singaporean, he does so with an understanding of what this has cost himself and others. He has lived an interesting and privileged life: it may not have been the pathway he would have chosen. One conversation in a car cannot possibly considered to be a strong evidence base – and yet his lived experience seemed to ring true with the wider conversations with which Singaporean leaders in education are engaging.
This is a truth for many around the world, and few so privileged; still, a truth worth holding up to the light. It’s a great and successful system. It is not without cost.
The learning from Singapore has been crystallised by the experience we had in England in November, welcoming our Singaporean counterparts to London to spend a week steeped in the English education system. For many of the English contingent, we had considered this to be the simply gateway to the more exciting part: visiting Singapore. We were surprised by the enormous value we found in looking afresh at our own system in pursuit of a coherent explanation and evaluation with our counterparts.
Our system is different, and compares less favourably in international league tables, and yet enjoys a long history of success. It’s a system where power dynamics have shifted, where there are multiple narratives, arbiters and kingmakers, and where there is as much diversity of performance as there is diversity of thought.
At times, when explaining the many different facets of the English political and educational establishment, we found ourselves holding up to the light what felt less like artefact and more like fragments – and in typically English self-deprecating style we assumed our Singaporean colleagues would find these curious and quaint, but not particularly instructive.
We were wrong.
After a week of learning about school trusts, local authorities, regional directors, hubs, plans, white and green papers, sector bodies, professional qualifications, and the much discussed scrutiny applied by Ofsted, our Singaporean colleagues were, to our surprise, deeply appreciative of us as leaders. There is so much for you to navigate, they observed, so many different organisations and structures, so many ways in which you are measured and held to account, and at such scale. They recognised that as leaders in a system which is both dynamic and fractured, there was great pressure on us and also great potential. You have to be so agile and creative. You make sense of such complexity, and look at how well you do it.
I work in the English education system for a reason, and I work in the parts of the system I have chosen for a reason. For me, that reason is linked to enabling greater equity, and ultimately it will be great leadership that enables this to happen.
We have been encouraged by our Singaporean counterparts to make our own way in the system, to act on the system as well as within it. They have seen, from their position of strength and cohesion, that what leaders are made of in England is quite unique. There are definite fissures and potholes in our system, and also great opportunities, in particular for inter-trust collaboration. They looked with admiration and at times with a tinge of bemused envy into a system that we feel at a loss to explain. We rightly hold them in high esteem as brilliant educators and deeply committed leaders; they look at us and see talented, hard working individuals who are relied upon to show creative and strategic brilliance in a system that has deliberately cultivated and perpetuated such traits.
I’ve learned that to hold opposing viewpoints within one narrative is not just possible but actually desirable: in this age of Twitter binarisms it is neither fashionable nor strategically cute to hold the middle ground on much. I rail against this: sometimes holding the middle ground is the bravest move of all. It’s also true that sometimes holding two competing concepts in mind and allowing space for both is not compromise, and it’s not a ‘meaningless middle’. In fact, it is a valuable and worthwhile exercise in getting the best of both whilst losing neither.
I’ve learned that narrative is powerful, and that narratives exist everywhere. That national narratives affect regional, local, and individual beliefs about self. That narratives perpetuate themselves and that they can be curated, utilised, harnessed for the good of all. That shaping of narrative is in itself a civic duty.
I’ve learned that brilliance exists in all sorts of places – from the extraordinarily talented leader of a state run kindergarten in Singapore to the excellently perceptive and astute SENCO in a school in London. I’ve learned that taking time to understand this brilliance, to listen to the voices of experts in their field and to create opportunities for this excellence to be shared, exploited, magnified and connected is the role of the best leaders.
I’ve learned that England has some stunning leaders, also without ego, also with an ability to navigate complexity and communicate purposefully – leaders with whom I now enjoy a professional friendship that will reap further rewards in years to come.
I’ve learned that in any system, where we place emphasis makes a difference to who wins and who loses out.
And I’ve learned that for all its challenge, this is an exciting time to be a system leader. I’m so thankful for the networks and collaborations of leaders I am part of and for those I will enjoy in future, both in England and in Singapore.
I’ll keep chasing rainbows as I reflect, letting them cut through the grey weather of this February half term: two weeks of learning have yet to fully settle, though already I carry myself differently into the system. I do so knowing I have what it takes to make a significant difference, and that I have nurtured a collaborative heart and soul for a reason. I work in the English education system for a reason, and I work in the parts of the system I have chosen for a reason. For me, that reason is linked to enabling greater equity, and ultimately it will be great leadership that enables this to happen.
What a duty it is to be a system leader in England in 2023.
And what a privilege.
The CST Blog welcomes perspectives from a diverse range of guest contributors. The opinions expressed in blogs are the views of the author(s), and should not be read as CST guidance or CST’s position.
Read other articles based on this category
Company no: 05303883
Charity no: 1107640
