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About Dr Preece

Head of Geography, SE London. Fascinated by curriculum, teaching & learning, and the joy of great Geography. Always learning more... Proud father to two cats.

Book Review: The Culture Code, by Daniel Coyle

Prompted by a fascinating conversation thread with Kat Howard (@saysmiss) on culture , I returned to Daniel Coyle’s (@DanielCoyle) book “The Culture Code” today, intending to briefly remind myself of what I was going to contribute to a thread. Some hours later, I finished re reading it. 

There are a number of authors that balance this mixture of “business school, psychology professor, and corporate consultant” in their style, including Adam Grant and Simon Sinek. It’s an approach that I really enjoy reading and exploring, particularly as one of the most common features is their good storytelling. While there are subtle differences in their approach – Grant tends to be quite academic, with footnotes and references, Sinek seems to be more about the story and the message – Coyle seems to weave a nice thread between their work. I think I’ve read that Grant & Sinek are good friends now, after an initial period of uncertainty; and I could easily imagine Daniel Coyle joining that line up and making a superb panel of discussions!

Originally written as a follow up to the Talent Code, a book exploring individual creativity factors, like Grant’s “Originals”, Coyle’s book is a really readable analysis of lessons learned from a huge range of examples and case studies. In short, there are three key lessons that he draws out.  

First, Coyle talks about creating “psychological safety”. He argues that strong cultures flood the zone with belonging cues — simple, short signals that create a sense of connection and future. They show care, commitment, and create a strong, deep connection. He uses examples from a range of different places, including KIPP schools, the San Antonio Spurs, Google (of course!), WIPRO and Tony Hsieh, and tells the story of how to build up safety and how it’s been done. I really liked the call to action at the end, with very practical suggestions of specific measurable things you can do. Most of these examples were unfamiliar to me before reading this; lots of people look at Google for creativity and other explorations, but this is the first time I’ve seen “under the hood” of the safety culture.

Second, Coyle talks about sharing vulnerability. Strong cultures have a set of habits that helps them share risk and weakness. This is the one most groups simply don’t get. In good cultures, Coyle says, people continually share uncomfortable truths with each other. Those hard truths might have to do with their own shortcomings, or with a group performance, but they have the same function: they wash away all the distractions of status, and create a shared truth around which the group can work to improve.

Coyle’s approach here is to show the different ways that teams, from Pixar, via international jewel thieves and improvisational comedians, to SEAL Team 6 are able to exchange frank and supportive analysis of their performance as part of how they get better. Kim Scott’s Radical Candor is a mechanistic analysis of how this needs to be done, but Coyle looks at the consequences of how the team do it. Personally, I think that diversity of examples is what makes Doyle’s work so readable. There isn’t a sense of “corporate world” and profit and bottom line, or a semi hero worship of military masculinity… there’s a blended and more diverse range of aspects, voices, and examples. To an extent, I think this makes the shared commonality of message more powerful, too… seeing that all of these teams share the same magic, and the ingredients are understandable and actionable. The depth of each example is narrated effectively and authentically: you get enough depth and context to understand how this team operates, and I think Coyle is excellent in identifying and pulling out the key threads and analysis to emphasise for the inexpert reader!

Third, Coyle talks about the work that Sinek has done more of, in how groups establish purpose — a set of super-clear shared goals that they put in the group’s windshield. Strong cultures work to unearth and expose the core narratives of their group, then drastically overcommunicate those narratives, using every possible mode (story, artifacts around the space, video, slogans, you name it). KIPP schools, and TLAC are very clear case studies here, and so too are Tylenol, Johnson and Johnson, Meyer restaurants, the Portuguese riot police and Pixar. Again, the diversity of experience and message reinforces the importance of groups doing this for themselves; rather than simply copying what’s been done by someone else. Johnson & Johnson’s Credo would be useless for the SEALs, and KIPPs now partially discredited “work hard, be kind” might not suit the SEALs either. Equally, the SEAL motto of “Shoot, Move, Communicate” isn’t a good look for the Portuguese riot police. You get the idea.

Early on in the book, Coyle talks about wanting to spend more time with each of these high performing cultures, and finding excuses to go back and ask them a little bit more. I feel the same way about this book. It provides a flavour of analysis, and often links up areas where specific books and work have been done – referencing Kerr on “Legacy”, or “It’s Your Ship”, or various other authors. An interesting reading guide is provided at the end, as are academic references where relevant, but so much of this is based on participant observation or personal anecdote that it doesn’t feel like an academic text. 

With short actionable points, the book gives a lot of practical perspectives, and translates the many stories in to a coherent, readable picture of cultures and how to build great ones. Doyle writes and investigates like a journalist, and a good one: the story is compelling, and you almost don’t realise how much you are learning until you stop and think about it.

The net impression is of someone giving you the highlights of a lifetime of experience, of reading, of so many stories they could tell… and I was drawn in to wanting to know more. Despite only wanting to dip in to this to satisfy a thread of curiosity on a Twitter thread, I re-read the whole book in basically an afternoon. It’s a compelling topic – exploring cultures and how we create them – but I think the writing style of Coyle is equally compelling.

The Great Divergence: or how subject specialism could be an interesting strand of retention for teachers.

In the most recent issue of Impact, Graham Chisnell described an interesting scenario of recruitment and retention around the career progression of teachers. This resonated with me, and left me pondering some particular and peculiar thinking of the education profession. 

Like most people, my first identity in education is in my subject. A really interesting recent discussion session at the Geography Teacher Educator conference, and work by Ruth Till  asked some interesting questions about how that identity is constructed: but for me, it’s about the expertise and choices I have made over my lifetime that play a huge part in it. I have, of course, taken different roles and interests: as a form tutor, as a UCAS advisor, and as a middle leader and Head of a Department, but in all of those parallel jobs, my core business has remained teaching and learning in my subject on a pretty full timetable. Even as a HoD, I’ve taught 20/25 lessons this week. Most of my reading, professional development and approach has been through the lens of my own disciplinary thinking and upbringing as a graduate and post graduate student, and it’s still endlessly fascinating and exciting to me. My associations with the RGS date back over two decades now, and Chartered Geographer status is a hugely powerful statement about how much I see myself as a Geographer, first and foremost.

But in potential career path and progression, I am about as high as I can go, while still keeping my core business the teaching and learning of Geography. In schools, certainly, the next step on the academic leadership ladder comes with a whole school focus, and a reduction in contact and timetable time in geography. While some of what I have learned could be applied to staff development, or teaching and learning, there is a natural changing in identity away from my subject – what I’ve loosely termed the “Great Divergence”, with apologies to both Pomeranz and Ferguson. These are exciting opportunities – and certainly, I am exploring teaching and learning cultures as part of my Masters in Education, so I’m keen to broaden my thinking. For many people, I suspect, this is a reasonable trade off. They want to be wider in their influence, and therefore need to adapt their identity. But what if you want to keep your subject at the heart of what you do? 

Subject Specialism: the heart of progression models?

This is where Chisnell (2021)’s article is so interesting, by comparison to the Singaporean model. Becoming a specialist in your subject, playing a wider role within the discipline is a valid and powerful pathway to development and career progression.

Singapore Ministry of Education (Link)

By contrast, I feel that many of the components of that progression: examining, work with subject associations, leading conferences, or speaking, or developing ones subject knowledge further are all regarded as “hobby activities” in our education system. They are nice, to be sure, and they are valued for developing your expertise, but they don’t lead directly to career progression, and are not always recognised, validated and encouraged by our school system, which can take a fairly narrow view of one’s circle of influence. Many schools and Trusts are really positive about these things, of course, but as a broad generalisation, it’s not career-defining.

Becoming a better Geographer, or better Geography teacher, then, is only going to take you so far within the UK system – by comparison to the Singapore system, where you can stay in schools much longer.

I should note that I don’t work in a MAT, and the Specialist Leader of Education role, or research lead (e.g. @JTavassolyMarsh, @EnserMark) is not available, but this seems to be the closest proxy to this kind of disciplinary specialism that is available to people in the sector, without crossing over. Harris Academies, for example, have Geography leads across their Trust, and I believe @GraceEHealy has followed this pathway with a different Education Trust. I know of people who have converted their work in their subject in to subject associations, and of course, there are still some Local Authorities who appoint subject specialists across a whole area (e.g. @greeborunner in Kent with English).

But.. don’t these roles exist elsewhere?

Of course, one might take on work with Higher Education, ITT/NQT mentoring, or supporting university partnerships, but I believe these, too, are regarded as “diversions” by the school system, rather than components of your professional development. Unlike in the Singaporean system, they are a completely different world – they aren’t alternative paths to the same end destination.

Even in my (albeit very distanced) understanding of these worlds, there’s quite a schism in identities in domains – ITT is associated with the Education Department, and education researchers who are (broadly) thinkers about pedagogy; rather than the subject areas. Alex Ford’s recent Tweet on this got me thinking about how the divisions might exist, too. I don’t know how many trainee teachers doing their PGCE at a university spend time in their subject Department, rather than in the Education Department – or how often lecturers from the Discipline come and talk to the Education trainees.

Similarly, a recent discussion prompted by @DrRLofthouse has made me more aware of the potential politicking associated with the divisions in different aspects of The Academy – schools, ITT, disciplines etc – and I’d be fascinated to see an extension of Chisnell (2021)’s work in to if (and how) the overlapping pathways construct a more symbiotic relationship at university level, as well as within schools.

Isn’t this just what “leadership” looks like, though? Is it the “price we pay”?

My final reflection is the extent to which this is a problem that is unique to education – and whether this is, therefore, a concern that we should have in our profession alone. I am married to a commercial solicitor. For her profession, associates, senior associates and partners all spend a large portion of their time in their original specialist discipline. Yes, of course, there are managerial, or business development divergences with seniority, but you still identify as a specialist and as a solicitor first, and your secondary roles differently. The “Great Divergence” in identity happens significantly later in your professional career; and even then, only if you choose to aggressively pursue managing roles and team leadership. Solicitors, at least, don’t encounter significant identity problems in pursuit of professional development and career progressions.

I am left uncertain of where the best models might lie, and what might be the best outcomes for our profession. For some, I’m sure, the divergence of identity is a natural and positive part of career development. For others, I think, it will be a major barrier to the traditional routes of progression, and perhaps that is a real shame. But Chisnell’s article on Singapore makes me reflect on whether we would benefit from seeing multiple pathways for leadership and success, and whether there is room in our system for subject champions and experts, who want to keep their core business in the discipline that they love?

Debates, discussions and thoughts welcomed!

Credits & Reflections:

As ever, thanks to @chizkent @RuthHTill, @UoB_Geography, @RushtonDr @routesjournal @jtavassolymarsh @DrRlofthouse @EnserMark @greeborunner @graceEhealy @apf102 who have all prompted thinking on this

Inside My Virtual Classroom. 2. Retrieval Practice MCQs.

One of the key components of a good lesson start, in ideal circumstances, is to be able to quickly explore and diagnose student recall of previous learning. In a school where we don’t expect students to bring laptops to lessons, we could perhaps use paper multiple choice quizzes, but the time and resource implications in completing and marking those is high!

With our virtual classroom, though, a number of options exist for us to create MCQs for the start of lessons in the right moments. Teaching Physical Geography, these have been able to focus on diagnostic understanding of process and technical terminology, and very rapidly build confidence in our use of the vocabulary and knowledge. 

I made the choice to build these on our virtual learning environment (Firefly) rather than via our online platform of Teams/Forms. While these are excellent platforms, the sustainability of our VLE means that I feel the time and workload involved means I want to try and future proof this as much as possible. I use assessment pages, where students have one attempt to complete, and have created multi choice questions which self mark. The only downside of this is that they are very bespoke to us – we can’t share them or import them from others’ work!

Where relevant (I don’t do it in all my lessons), students join a lesson with a link made available. Within the first five minutes, they have been able to answer the 10-15 MCQs, and have their responses marked. I can keep the marks if I want, particularly if there are any concerns, and keep this low stakes process really quick and hassle free. 

Students have really enjoyed being able to get this done with the minimum of fuss, and it’s been hugely powerful at helping them check where they are in this remote scenario. Moving forward, all of these quizzes are retained on our VLE for the future, and I’m hoping to be able to set them as pre learning activities for lessons next year and beyond too!