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When you board a plane, the flight attendant greets you at the door. They smile. They make eye contact. They welcome you onboard. But they don’t begin by asking everyone to share something interesting about themselves. From the very first moment, their friendliness is paired with clarity of role and purpose. They are warm, calm, and professional. And it’s obvious why they are there. Safety procedures follow almost immediately. Expectations are clear. The journey begins. This balance is worth thinking about as we approach the start of a school year. At the beginning of the year, as teachers, we are often encouraged to prioritise relationships above all else. The phrase “relationships before rigour” is commonly used, sometimes alongside advice to delay challenging work or formal routines until our students “feel comfortable”. The intention is positive. But the implication is questionable. It suggests that learning and structure somehow sit in opposition to connection; that one must come first, and the other later. In reality, our students often experience connection because learning is purposeful, clear, and taught well. Warmth is essential. But warmth without direction is not the thing that makes classrooms feel safe. Relief teachers provide a useful counterexample to the idea that connection must come before content. They regularly enter classrooms with:
They do this not by avoiding learning, but by:
This is not to say that relationships are unimportant; they are still crucial. But our students do not need teachers to be their friends. They need us to be their teachers. Like flight attendants, we can be approachable and kind without blurring roles. Our professional relationship is defined by:
The problem with the phrase “relationships before rigour” isn’t the emphasis on relationships. It’s the false separation it creates. Rigour does not damage relationships. Unclear expectations do. When our students know what to do, how to do it, and why it matters, they are more likely to feel secure. High-quality instruction communicates respect: this learning matters, and you are capable of it. Delaying learning in the name of connection can unintentionally create anxiety rather than trust. Unfortunately, a “strong start” is sometimes interpreted as spending one or two weeks teaching routines in isolation, with minimal academic demand. But routines are not separate from learning. They are best taught through it.
And this is where connection begins to grow. When our students experience early success within clear routines, trust develops. Our students begin to think:
Rather than framing the start of the year as relationships first, learning later, a more helpful message might be:
And then, like a flight attendant at the start of a journey, begin the work. Because connection does not have to come before content. Often, it is built through it.  Image generated using AI (ChatGPT / DALL·E), OpenAI
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There’s something magical about an empty classroom in January. Clean desks. Bare walls. A sense of possibility. But as teachers, we also know that how we set up that space matters. It matters a lot. Our classroom isn’t just a backdrop for learning; it actively shapes how students think, behave, and feel. Over the years, I’ve learned that the best classroom setups don’t come from Instagram-worthy perfection. They come from understanding how children learn, how attention works, and how the environment influences behaviour. The six principles below have become my go-to framework for creating a room that supports both learning and belonging: Flow - Low - Grow - Rows - Show - Glow Let’s unpack what that could look like in your classroom. 1. Let It FLOW One of my worst layout mistakes ever was putting the classroom bin directly behind my chair. Every two minutes a student was up, scraping chairs, opening lids, wandering past me. It was distraction galore. I also had the sunscreen tucked away in a cupboard, which meant constant interruptions as kids had to ask, get up, and hunt it down (or we'd completely forget about it). What I learned from that is that movement is not the problem. Poorly designed movement is. When traffic patterns are unclear, students waste cognitive energy navigating the room. That energy is then not available for learning. Clear pathways and visible resources make behaviour easier because students do not have to think about where to go or what to do. Now I try to:
In real classrooms (especially in public schools), we do not always get to choose our furniture or room size. But even small shifts in layout can dramatically reduce unnecessary movement and off-task behaviour. 2. Keep Visuals LOW Early in my career, I thought a good classroom meant every wall covered, especially the front of the room. I had colourful posters, commercial displays, and charts everywhere. Some of them I put up, never explained, and never referred to again. I was accidentally creating a wall of visual noise right where students needed to focus the most. Research on cognitive load tells us that working memory is limited. When walls are overloaded, they compete with the teacher for students’ attention. This is especially tough for young learners and students with attention or sensory difficulties. Now I try to:
This does not mean bare walls. It means purposeful walls. When something goes up, it has a job to do. The result is a classroom that feels calmer, more focused, and easier to learn in. 3. Watch It GROW For years I resisted having a plant. I told myself it was one more thing to maintain and one more thing to go wrong. I simply did not think it mattered. Then I finally tried it, and I would not go back. Plants soften the room. They make it feel cared for. They bring a sense of calm and life into a space that can otherwise feel very institutional. The kids love them and they love being responsible for them. Now I try to:
4. Sit in ROWs This one is personal. I used to let kids choose their own seat every day. I thought I was giving them autonomy and making them happy. Then my own child came home stressed, to the point of struggling to sleep, because she was worried about upsetting friends with where she sat. Who needs that kind of social pressure at the start of a school year? That was my wake up call. I also noticed that when students sat facing each other, their attention drifted far more easily. Rows are not about control. They are about reducing distraction so students can focus on learning. Research shows that fewer visual distractions support better attention and working memory, especially during explicit teaching. Now I try to:
We still collaborate, move, and work together. But when it is time to learn something new, rows help everyone give their best cognitive effort. 5. Enjoy the SHOW One of the most important things I do before the year starts is simple: I sit in every seat. Can I see the board? Is there glare from the windows? Can I hear clearly? I once wondered why a child was often slow to respond or copied their peers. I assumed it was attention or confidence. Then I sat in their seat and realised they could not see the board at all because of glare. They were not disengaged: they were working blind! Now I try to:
So many learning problems disappear when the environment stops creating them. 6. Help Them GLOW Every student deserves to feel that they belong in the room. I always create a space where each child can display work they are proud of; not just the “best” work, but their work. This builds:
When kids walk into a room that reflects them, they show up differently. I used to have a beautiful grow wall and then forget to update it. It slowly became a snapshot of who had been successful weeks ago, not how they were growing now. Some students stayed invisible, even though they were working incredibly hard. Then I started timetabling a fortnightly reflection session in which students chose a piece they were proud of. I photocopied it and popped it into their frame. That simple system kept the wall current and made sure every child was seen. Now I try to:
When students see themselves on the wall, they start to see themselves as learners. Working with real world constraints We do not teach in ideal conditions. Too often, we find ourselves teaching in small rooms, with 28+ kids, fixed desks, limited budgets, and/or ageing technology. That is why principles matter more than perfection. You might not be able to buy new furniture, but you can improve flow. You might not have fancy displays, but you can reduce visual noise. You might not have space, but you can still create belonging. Every small change makes learning easier. A well-designed classroom does not just look good. It thinks for you. It reduces distraction, supports behaviour, and helps students focus on what matters most. Learning and belonging. And that is the best gift we can give them on day one. Classroom Setup Checklist Use this when you walk into your room. FLOW ☐ Are walkways clear? ☐ Will there be bottlenecks near doors, tubs, or bins? ☐ Are high-use items (pencils, workbooks, sunscreen) easily accessible? VISUALS ☐ Is the front wall calm? ☐ Are displays purposeful? ☐ Is there dedicated space left for student work and anchor charts? GROW ☐ Do you have at least one living plant? ☐ How will you care for it? Will students help care for it? ROWS ☐ Are the desks facing forwards for explicit teaching? ☐ Does the seating reduce distraction and social stress? ☐ Does each child have their own designated seat? SHOW ☐ Have you sat in every seat? ☐ Can all students see and hear clearly? ☐ Is there any glare or blocked views? GLOW ☐ Does every student have a display space? ☐ How will displays be regularly updated? ☐ Have you planned a first-day task for immediate display?  Empty chair in school classroom by Thamrongpat Theerathammakorn from Noun Project I still remember my first year of teaching like it was yesterday. I walked into that classroom in Term 1 filled with enthusiasm and a vision of all the incredible things I was going to teach. I imagined deep discussions about character development in novels, science experiments that sparked awe, maths investigations that built real problem-solving skills, innovative use of the latest tech tools (remember the Ultranet) and inquiry projects that kids would love while wowing parents. But then the reality hit. By the end of the year, I looked back at all those grand plans (and my bold belief that I was going to singlehandedly transform education with a Smartboard and the Ultranet) and realised how little I had actually covered. Whole topics were left untouched. My reading groups were more “aspirational” than operational. Lessons often felt rushed, interrupted, or suspiciously like improv. And most frustrating of all? I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where all the time had gone (though I suspected some of it was waiting for the Ultranet to load). Since then, I’ve learned that instructional time is precious. It’s like money with a hard limit: no loans, no extensions. Every minute we have in the classroom must be spent wisely. Investing Time Think of it like this: if you were handed a strict financial budget to run a major project, with no overdraft, no credit, and no option to apply for more, you’d pore over every expense. What adds value? What’s a waste? What could be cut without compromising the goal? Classroom time is exactly the same. Every minute we spend lining up, explaining unclear instructions, or resolving preventable behaviour issues is time stolen from learning. For example:
Losing Time In economics, "opportunity cost" is what you lose when you choose one option over another. In teaching, opportunity cost sounds like this:
Spending Time 1. Streamline the Essentials
2. Teach with Precision
3. Audit Time Use Regularly
Wasting Time Five minutes here and there may not feel like much but over a year, it adds up to more than 16 hours. That’s three full weeks of numeracy instruction in a typical primary school. Just imagine what you could teach in that time. That’s three weeks of fluency practice. Three weeks of mastering new concepts. Three weeks of problem solving. Three weeks of learning you don’t get back. Instructional time is precious and every moment counts. Managing Time Great teaching isn’t just about content; it’s about time management. The most effective teachers protect their instructional minutes like precious dollars, constantly asking themselves: “Is this the best use of our limited time?” In today’s classroom, with ever-growing expectations and packed curricula, how we spend our time may be the most important decision we make. So next time you sit down to plan a lesson, don’t just ask, “What am I going to teach?” Ask: “Is this the best investment I can make with the time I’ve been given?” Instructional time is precious, and how we use it will shape the learning experience we provide. Let’s be intentional, focused, and make every minute count.  Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash In classrooms where evidence-based programs are used, scripted lessons can be powerful tools. They help ensure fidelity to research-backed sequences, reduce teacher workload, and support consistency across classrooms. But as powerful as these scripts can be, their true strength lies not in rigidly following every word, but in knowing when and why to adapt them thoughtfully to meet the unique needs of our students. I’m passionate about bringing the science of learning to the art of teaching. Scripts can help provide the science through proven methods and carefully crafted language. However, the art comes from the teacher; through their deep knowledge of their students and the context they bring to the classroom every day. The golden question guiding every decision to stay on script or deviate must always be: Will this improve learning for my students? This isn’t about disregarding the program, but about putting students at the heart of everything we do. Sometimes that means adding extra support, sometimes it means increasing the challenge, and sometimes it means holding fast to the plan because it’s exactly what students need. Through careful observation, preparation, and collaboration, teachers can use scripts not as constraints, but as important tools, guiding students step by step toward deeper understanding and greater success. Do we need to add support? There are times when the needs of our students call for deviation from the script, especially when it comes to scaffolding. I once taught a class of EAL/D students using the Reading Mastery program. The script assumed students had an understanding of basic English prepositions like next to, in front of, and behind. But these concepts didn’t translate directly into Murrinh Patha, the students’ first language, where a single term was used for all spatial relationships. To bridge this gap, I added extra lessons to explicitly teach prepositions. The script didn’t fail; my students just needed more support. Do we need to increase challenge? Sometimes, the script includes scaffolds that are no longer necessary. If student responses show deep understanding, we might choose to remove or compress supports to maintain cognitive stretch. Over the past couple of years, we’ve found that by explicitly teaching phonemic awareness and linking those skills to graphemes, our students are confidently reading CCVC and CVCC words before these patterns are formally introduced in our phonics program. As a result, we’re able to move more quickly through these sections without compromising understanding. Our decisions should be driven by careful observation: Are students breezing through this part? Are they ready to move faster or go deeper? Teacher knowledge is crucial Whether you stay faithful to the script or make a change, your own content knowledge is critical. You need to know:
Intellectual preparation is key Deviating from a script is not an excuse for improvising on the fly. Any change must be grounded in a deep understanding of the lesson:
The power in economy of language Teachers love to talk. But too much teacher talk (especially tangents and stories) can pull students away from the core learning. Scripted programs are often designed with economy of language in mind. Every sentence serves a purpose. We need to be conscious of when our words are helping students learn and when they’re becoming a distraction. In a maths lesson focused on skip counting by tens, the script might say: “Count by tens starting from 40. Ready? Go.” However, excessive teacher talk can unintentionally disrupt the flow. The teacher might easily turn this prompt into, “Let’s count by tens now. Remember how we’ve done this before? You know, like counting money: ten cents, twenty cents, and so on. I used to save all my ten-cent coins when I was a kid. I had a big jar…” While the story might be engaging, it derails the lesson’s momentum and shifts focus away from the key skill being practised. In contrast, the original script keeps students engaged in the task, maintains pace, and ensures the learning stays on track. Teaching is a team sport When it comes to adapting instruction, especially when stepping outside a scripted program, it’s important to remember that teaching is a team effort. If you decide to make a change for a good reason, it’s worth asking yourself: Have I shared this with my team? We’re all in this together, and when changes happen in isolation, we miss out on valuable opportunities to learn from one another and grow as a community of educators. And you might just be missing out on your colleague's wisdom when they say, "I tried it that way last year and it did NOT work..." Having a shared understanding and consistency across classrooms isn’t just about staying on the same page; it’s about making sure every student has an equitable learning experience. If one teacher adapts something because their students are ready, while another sticks strictly to the script, it can lead to very different opportunities for students in different rooms. When we communicate openly, we build trust and ensure that these decisions support all learners. By sharing your reasons for adapting, and hearing how others respond, we create a culture where thoughtful change becomes part of our collective wisdom; not just a solo experiment. Together, we can be more responsive, more flexible, and ultimately more effective in meeting the needs of every student. Change feels less daunting when it’s something we do side by side. Fidelity matters, but students matter more If we don’t teach with fidelity, we can’t honestly evaluate whether a program is effective. But the ultimate guide for whether we can deviate is the students themselves. Their responses show us where they’re struggling, where they’re confident, and where they need us to make adjustments. Using scripted programs well means knowing when to follow them closely and when to deviate with purpose. It’s not about teaching the program, it’s about teaching our students. The program is the plan, and our students are the reason. Our students are constantly giving us feedback. Let’s make sure we’re listening.  Imagine this: a Tour de France cyclist flying down a narrow, winding mountain road. The pace is intense, the focus razor-sharp, and every movement is deliberate. There’s no time to pause and admire the view. Every turn is calculated, every second matters. That’s the energy of a well-run daily review in the classroom. Fast. Focused. Fluid. Like a cyclist descending a mountain, the daily review isn’t where the learning begins; it’s where we test the brakes, lean into the turns, and reinforce the training that’s already happened. The content should come quickly and confidently. If we’re dragging through it, we’ve lost the point. Each question is a twist in the road:
There’s no time for long explanations or in-depth instruction. The review is about retrieval, repetition, and responsiveness. Just like the rider trusts their training, we trust that students have already learned these concepts; and now they’re being kept fresh, fast and accessible. Reading the Road But just like in cycling, this pace only works if we’re alert to what’s happening around us. A rider reads the road and adjusts; so must we. If a student stumbles, we make a mental note. If multiple kids miss the same question, that’s a sign that we may need to revisit that curve later in the lesson. If the whole class doesn't respond, perhaps we didn't give them the thinking time they needed. The magic of the daily review is in its diagnostic power; you see what’s stuck and what’s slipping in real time. Avoiding the Uphill Grind Without daily review, students often find themselves on a slow, painful uphill climb: struggling to recall, battling to connect past learning to new concepts. The descent is exhilarating because it’s powered by what came before. When we run a daily review with pace and precision, we’re giving our students that same momentum. We’re saying: You’ve done this before. Let’s go again: swifter, sharper, stronger. Final Thoughts A good daily review isn’t rushed; it’s purposeful. It doesn’t dawdle, but it doesn’t drop students, either. Like the best riders, we want our students to be confident, agile, and always looking ahead. So next time you’re leading your class through a daily review, think of the Tour de France. You’re not just reviewing content: you’re racing down that mountain, making every second count.  Teachers make daily decisions about what students can handle: what texts to read, what tasks to attempt, what behaviours are acceptable. But sometimes, these decisions aren’t maximising a child’s full potential. They’re based on assumptions about a child’s background, perceived ability, or past performance. This is what the speechwriter Michael Gerson coined as “the soft bigotry of low expectations.” And it remains one of the most damaging and insidious forms of inequity in education. What It Looks Like in Practice The “soft bigotry” isn’t overt prejudice. It’s subtle. It sounds like:
As Noel Pearson, Indigenous leader and education advocate, has warned: “Low expectations are the scourge of disadvantaged schools. They are the disease that infects schools with endemic failure.” But when we raise the bar and teach with belief, incredible things happen Every Child, Every Chance: Changing the Narrative Take the quiet child whose previous teacher rarely heard her speak. She seemed content to fade into the background; until warm calling invited her into the conversation with kindness and consistency. In the beginning, her answers seemed to surprise her as much as anyone. Soon, she was one of the first to put her hand up, keen to share her thinking. Her confidence hadn’t appeared overnight. It had been built, brick by brick, because someone believed her voice mattered. And so she started to believe that it mattered too. Or the Prep student who couldn’t count to three when she arrived. Rather than hold her back or simplify the content, we gave her full access to the same high-quality maths instruction as her peers; with scaffolding and support where needed. Slowly, she caught up. By year’s end, she was one of our strongest mathematical thinkers. She didn’t need a watered-down curriculum; she needed a chance. And then there was the class who couldn’t sit on the mat for more than a few minutes: restless, distracted, and disconnected. It would’ve been easy to lower expectations, to teach in five-minute bursts or avoid whole-class instruction altogether. But we didn’t. We built their stamina. We made the lessons engaging, checked for understanding constantly, and taught behaviour as intentionally as we taught reading. Within weeks, they were locked in. By mid-year, they could sit together for 30 minutes of rich, focused instruction: fully present and thriving. What High Expectations Really Mean Having high expectations isn’t about demanding perfection or pushing kids too hard. It’s about:
Zig Engelmann, creator of Direct Instruction, said it well: “If the student hasn't learned, the teacher hasn't taught. And if the student can't learn, the teacher hasn't found the way to teach.” Breaking the Cycle To fight the soft bigotry of low expectations, we must first look inward. We must ask:
You belong here. We believe in you. Let’s get to work. No child should be held back by our assumptions. Let’s be bold and ensure every child can thrive.  As educators, it’s heartening to see the growing interest in the science of learning—a body of research that explores how the brain learns best and how we can use that knowledge to teach more effectively. This can be seen in the Victorian Teaching and Learning Model 2.0 and other frameworks across the country. However, with this growing interest, a range of myths and misunderstandings are starting to emerge. These myths can paint an inaccurate, even disheartening, picture of what informed, effective teaching looks like. At worst, they risk turning teachers away from approaches that actually support their professional judgment, creativity, and connection with students. Let’s take a closer look at five common myths: and the truths that bust them wide open. I’ve also included real-world classroom examples to show how vibrant and powerful learning becomes when we embrace the science of learning. Myth 1: “We can’t display students’ work in the classroom anymore.” Truth: We absolutely can: we just need to be intentional about how we do it. One of the most persistent myths is that a Science of Learning approach means blank walls and lifeless rooms. But this is a misinterpretation of cognitive load theory. The research doesn’t say “no displays”. It says to avoid unnecessary distractions. When students are learning something new, the last thing they need is clutter pulling their attention away from the teacher, whiteboard, and core learning visuals. But displays can have a powerful place in the classroom, especially when they’re curated carefully and used purposefully. A source of pride in my own classroom has been our “Grow Wall.” It’s a space where students choose work they’re proud of- writing, artwork, maths challenges they’ve conquered- and we display it proudly. We refresh the wall regularly, and it tells a story of growth and achievement. Crucially, it’s placed at the back of the room, away from the direct line of sight during instruction, but right where parents can see it during drop-off and where students line up during the day. The wall celebrates student voice and effort without competing with the cognitive focus of a lesson. When we understand the research, we can embrace celebration and clarity. Myth 2: “Differentiation is dead.” Truth: We’re still differentiating; just more effectively, and more sustainably. Differentiation has long been a pillar of great teaching, but it’s also often a vague concept that becomes both misunderstood and unsustainable. Misunderstanding differentiation often involves teachers creating multiple versions of the same lesson, or “watering down” tasks in the name of accessibility. That approach is exhausting, and it rarely delivers equity or excellence. The science of learning encourages us to ensure all students can engage with the same core knowledge and skills through strong instruction, effective scaffolds, and meaningful opportunities to deepen learning. It’s about making sure every student can succeed with the core learning, while giving those ready for more the chance to stretch and go deeper. It’s not about watering things down, but lifting everyone up. I had the pleasure of recently seeing a teacher run a brilliant lesson on story structure. Every student was given a series of images and asked to sort them into narrative components—character, setting, problem, solution, and ending. This task gave every student access to the big idea. Then came the differentiation:
Myth 3: “There’s no space for creativity or critical thinking.” Truth: Knowledge builds the foundation for both. Another common misconception is that explicit instruction and knowledge-rich learning “kill creativity.” But the opposite is true: you can’t think deeply about something you don’t understand, and you can’t create with concepts you haven’t yet grasped. When students have strong foundational knowledge, they ask better questions, make richer connections, and generate more original ideas. Their creativity isn’t diminished: it’s informed. In my classroom, as we explored the world of Greek mythology, students began making comparisons that sparked rich, critical discussion. One student wondered if Ariel from The Little Mermaid might be related to Poseidon. Another asked whether Jesus and Zeus were similar. Someone else questioned what really causes lightning; was it Zeus, as the myths suggested, or something more scientific? These conversations didn’t happen in a vacuum. They were the result of structured knowledge-building. The content gave them the tools to play, question, and imagine; and that’s true creativity. Myth 4: “Students are becoming robots.” Truth: Calm, focused classrooms amplify student voices. There’s a worry that orderly classrooms stifle children’s personalities. The claim persists that if students are listening, following routines, and focused on their work, they must be “robotic.” We need to challenge that. Calm classrooms aren’t quiet because of compliance. They’re calm because students know what to do. There’s security in routine, clarity in expectations, and freedom in structure. In that space, more students get to participate, especially those who might otherwise be overshadowed. One of the greatest highlights of my career has been supporting a student who was selectively mute. Over time, with consistent routines, gentle encouragement, and clear expectations, she found her voice. A classroom that some might call “strict” was, in her case, a sanctuary; one that helped her feel seen, safe, and successful. Children aren’t robots. They’re inherently joyful, curious, and capable. A well-structured classroom doesn’t suppress that; it makes space for it to flourish. Myth 5: “It robs teachers of their artistry.” Truth: The science of learning empowers great teaching; it doesn’t strip away our professional flair. This is perhaps the myth that stings the most because it strikes at the heart of our profession. Teachers are artists. We build relationships, adapt to the moment, and respond with creativity and heart. So when we hear “science of learning,” some worry that it means robotic delivery that erases our individuality. But here’s the truth: I’ve never visited two great classrooms that were identical. Even when a lesson is scripted, each teacher brings their own tone, personality, and strengths. I worked with a teacher last year who brought music into every part of her practice. She had a song for nearly everything: transitions, spelling rules, even maths strategies! That was her superpower. While I’ve got a few songs up my sleeve, it’s not my strong suit, and that’s okay. I am still able to let my teaching shine in other ways. The science of learning gives us the foundation to stand on, but it doesn’t define how we dance. It helps more students learn more effectively, more often. And when teachers feel confident in what works, it frees them to do what they do best: teach with joy, flair, and purpose.
On Wednesday night I found myself in the local emergency department. My son had jumped off a slide and the call I received from his after school care made it clear that it wasn’t one of those “walk it off” injuries. He was in real pain, and he needed medical care straight away. At the hospital, the triage nurse greeted us warmly, reassured my son, and got straight to work. She asked a series of questions that were clearly part of a structured script. It was calm, efficient, and comforting. That script didn’t make her robotic; it made her effective. She still smiled, cracked a joke or two, and treated us like people, not a checklist. This experience reminded me just how valuable good systems can be: especially when things are complex, high-stakes, and time-pressured. It’s the same with teaching. Lately, there’s been some debate about so-called “teacher-proof” maths lessons. A recent blog post claimed that these lessons won’t work, and that teachers should be creating everything from scratch so they can better respond to students’ needs. But that’s a false dichotomy. Let’s be clear: using a script or pre-designed lesson doesn’t mean teaching without thought or care. It means having a well-researched, carefully constructed recipe to follow: one that saves us from having to reinvent the wheel every day. And like any good recipe, we adjust the ingredients. You don’t force-feed egg to someone with an allergy. Similarly, you don’t deliver a lesson exactly as written when it’s not quite right for the learners in front of you. Many of these lessons have been created by highly experienced teachers; colleagues who have spent hours refining them so others don’t have to start from scratch. In fact, I’ve helped put some of them together myself. Are they perfect? Of course not. But they are strong, structured, and well-sequenced. I had the time to really fine-tune these lessons, bringing them to a higher standard than I normally could. Carefully pre-designed lessons give teachers a solid base to build from, not a cage to be trapped in. The criticism that scripted lessons remove professional judgement misunderstands how most of us actually use these resources. No one’s handing over their classroom autonomy. We’re using these tools to free up time and cognitive space so we can focus on the things that matter most: our students’ learning, questions, and needs. Take daily reviews, for example. The suggestion that every teacher should be crafting their own daily review slides, every single day, sounds great in theory, but it doesn’t align with the real demands of the classroom. It takes hours. And that time has to come from somewhere; usually planning, marking, sleep, or time with family. We need high-quality teaching resources not because we’re lazy or disengaged, but because we’re smart and committed. When we can rely on good materials, we have more capacity to focus on formative assessment, to provide feedback, to build relationships, and to actually teach. Teaching is too important to be left to chance. A good script won’t make you a great teacher; but it’ll help you become one faster, with fewer barriers in your way. Just like that triage nurse, we can follow the plan and connect with the humans in front of us. Let’s stop pretending it has to be one or the other.  Recent findings from the Grattan Institute’s The Maths Guarantee report have once again brought attention to a challenge many of us see every day: too many students are slipping through the cracks in maths. The good news? The report doesn’t just highlight the problem: it offers a clear, research-backed way forward through structured teaching, targeted support, and professional growth. As teachers and leaders, we care deeply; but we’re also busy. That’s why I’ve curated a practical set of resources aligned to the report’s key recommendations. Think of it as a toolkit to help move from ideas to action, so we can make a real difference, without reinventing the wheel. Books to build understanding
Screener for early identification
Curriculum
Recorded webinars
The Grattan report isn’t just another document to add to the pile. It’s a practical blueprint backed by decades of research. But its real power lies in what we do next. Let’s use the tools at our fingertips to ensure every student builds the strong mathematical foundation they deserve.  There’s a pattern we see far too often. A new report is released. Headlines follow:
If you’ve ever felt that sting, you’re not alone. Many teachers feel it; and rightly so. We care deeply about what we do. So when someone says the system isn’t working, it’s hard not to take that personally. But here’s a gentle reminder: Criticism of the system isn’t the same as criticism of teachers. In fact, the two are often worlds apart. Teachers Are Doing the Work; But the System Isn’t When people raise concerns about student outcomes or what’s happening in schools, they’re often responding to what the research is telling us: that many children are not being set up to succeed, especially in reading and maths. That doesn’t mean teachers aren’t trying. It doesn’t mean you’re not doing your absolute best. It means we’ve been working in a system that hasn’t always given teachers what they need:
Why It Feels Personal Teaching is human work. We invest more than just time and energy: we put in heart. That’s why criticism hits hard. We see our own names between the lines of those headlines, even when they’re not there. But we can’t afford to confuse critique of a structure with an attack on the people inside it. It’s like blaming the firefighter for the faulty smoke alarm. You’re in the building, doing your job, but the warning system should’ve been working long before you got there. What If We Reframed It? Instead of hearing, “teachers are failing,” what if we heard this: “Our system has failed to equip teachers with the clarity, consistency, and tools they need; and we can do better.” Because that’s the truth. You’re already doing more than enough. But the system? It hasn’t caught up with what we know works. And naming that isn’t about blaming teachers. It’s about backing them. So What Now? Here’s what we can do as educators, leaders, and learners:
and maybe that’s okay. Because with the right mindset, critique isn’t a threat. It’s an opportunity. A sign that people care. That they want better: for students, and for you. So the next time the headlines come rolling in, remind yourself: They’re not talking about you. They’re talking about what you deserve. A system that works with you, not against you. Let’s build that system. Together.  Photo by Luis Cortés on Unsplash |
I'm JamesI have been teaching for over a decade in Australia. I have worked as a classroom teacher, lead teacher, learning specialist, and principal. Archives
June 2025
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