Andy Ayim has a fine Centre Write piece on the way we do not reward merit. As Ayim succinctly puts it, we pattern-match for resemblance instead.
Britain is an HR mirrortocracy
Growing up as a kid in Tottenham, I felt limitless, as though I could be anybody and everybody. I spent my formative years, as any kid does, feeding my curiosity, playing and learning in and out of the classroom. My local community centre was where I made most of my friends back then, playing or talking about football. I wanted to stand out, show off what I was good at and make my parents proud.
Along the way that changed. Over the years, through interactions with my parents, teachers, media and the local community, I slowly shrank, desperately wanting to fit in. I was becoming a restricted version of myself to get good grades at school and, later, to do well in the job I was hired for. We all have a version of that story: the trade-off between belonging and fulfilling our potential.
I have come to believe that Britain has its own version, too. Are we, as a nation, playing it small? Or being all that we can be?
We tell ourselves we are a meritocracy: a flattering myth that talent rises, that merit is rewarded, that where you start off in life does not limit where you end up. But look closely at who actually gets to lead in business and public life. We do not reward merit so much as we pattern-match for resemblance. We promote the people who look, sound and think like the people already in the room. We take shortcuts to look for people we went to school with, people we previously worked with: people like us.
The whole piece is well worth reading as we wonder what the difference will be between Keir Starmer and Andrew Burnham as UK Prime Minister.
Through the course of my job, I have asked thousands of managers the same question. Who was your favourite teacher in school? What did they do? How did they make you feel? What impact did they have on you? Almost no one replies it was the teacher’s degree or technical skills. It is always the soft skills that surface. “She believed in me.” “He inspired me. “They supported me,” and so on.
10 comments:
"Who was your favourite teacher in school?" I think of four. (i) My favourite maths teacher. He really could teach maths. Top man and a nice chap too. Years later he wrote to a class reunion; he could still remember that one of the results he'd proved on the blackboard pleased me so much that I'd clapped and clapped.
(ii) My favourite English teacher. Another top man; alas he left us for a lectureship at the University of Aberdeen. Crossing swords with him was wonderful fun. I think I upset him only once and he bravely tried to hide the fact that he'd taken offence.
(iii) My history teacher. Full of interest and the sort of man who could tell thirteen year olds that their summer reading was the wars of Italian Nationalism and that we must "Keep an eye on Count Cavour".
(iv) My geography teacher: "Miss" carried it all off so well that I was mystified to hear people from other schools moan that Geography was about memorising lists of capital cities and rivers. Not for us it wasn't - hell it verged on the scientific from time to time - Canadian 90 day wheat versus British Winter Wheat, Geology, Continental Drift, Prevailing Winds, the Ocean Currents and Ocean Oozes ... - and was full of history at other times. It was plain bloody interesting. What more could you ask?
Mind you, I've no doubt I was a lucky dog. mind you again, you are likelier to be a lucky dog if you attend Secondary School when their business was Education not Social Engineering.
‘We promote the people who look, sound and think like the people already in the room.’
… which might explain the large number of women-only offices around, particularly in the public sector, and the uphill struggle young men are having to find white-collar employment.
Safetyism: To avoid the danger of desperately poor education and the danger of remarkably good education everyone must teach the same safe curriculum. After all everyone must win prizes so those prizes must be average.
dearieme - in my case it was English, history, physics and maths but the English teacher moved on after my first secondary school year - not my fault though. Worst was geography, he managed to make it into the dullest subject of all, so dull that I still remember glazing over quite well. Nice chap though.
Macheath - working in an office sounds grim to me though. Do young men try really hard? I wouldn't.
DJ - yes, the curriculum must be a millstone for good teachers. A constant drag away from inspiring pupils.
While I struggled with History 'O' Level, my master stood over me and just told me, "You will pass"... And I did! He also paid me the ultimate compliment of showing 'some guts' in a rival rugby House Match, and that meant everything to me back then, I've never forgotten him. RIP Don Jackson.
More corruption news from the SNP.
https://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/politics/cops-probe-claims-missing-15m-37388389
Also helps if they are not tied down with a thousand threads of safetyism. I learned, in primary school, some woodworking skills I still use today - but no-one today would be allowed to give ten year olds mallets, chisels and big cans of Evo-Stik glue.
Scrobs - sounds as if he knew how to encourage without hectoring.
dearieme - strewth - "The Yes campaign took in millions in donations but from 2016 dormant accounts have been submitted with zero balances; the money is just gone." Strewth again. How many motorhomes does it all add up to?
Barbarus - yes, I still think back on what I was allowed to do and the tools I was expected use - quite apart from the gunpowder at home.
On PLU: who can this be?
'a sympathetic Manchester housing expert told Labour Hub: “His big weakness is a lack of grasp of policy…surface-level and faddy”'
dearieme - not a Handy Man at all then. Could be a Guardian columnist afterwards though - surface-level and faddy would be a good fit.
Post a Comment