Top marks to a once failing Lambeth primary school

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12 April 2012

On the face of it, St John the Divine Church of England Primary School in Lambeth has not altered a jot in the past 15 years.

It still looks like a Victorian workhouse squatting in the shadow of some of the bleakest crime-ridden estates in south London.

And the pupils who attend, almost all black African and Caribbean, will not have changed much either: they still emerge every morning from the adjacent high-rise estates where the majority of families live in grinding poverty and where a significant number are brought up by single parents.

But whereas 15 years ago St John the Divine Primary was put on "special measures" as a failing school by education watchdog Ofsted, and shamefully branded "the worst school in the country", this week it is hailed by inspectors as "a gem of a school" and one of the "20 outstanding primary schools excelling against the odds" in Britain.

Ironically, many of the teachers and management team who were judged as culpable then, including acting headteacher Eileen Muresan, still run the school today.

And as they have transformed their school, so the villains have become heroes.
How have they done it?

The search to identify this elusive winning formula is especially imperative for our politicians.

On Wednesday shadow education secretary Michael Gove lauded the heroics of another London head, Sir Michael Wilshaw, principal of Mossbourne Community Academy in Hackney, for inheriting one of the worst secondary schools in England and turning it into one of the best.

In his keynote speech to the Conservative Party conference, Gove declared that Tory education policy would, "in a nutshell", strive to take what made schools such as Sir Michael's excellent and spread it to the worst 100 failing schools.

In the case of Mossbourne, a school I visited for the Standard two years ago, the magic ingredient is undoubtedly the dynamic leadership of Sir Michael and the fact that he was able to start over in 2004 on the site of an abandoned school in a new £25 million purpose-built facility.

But in the case of a school such as St John, which has not been rebuilt and where charismatic leadership is just one of a range of transforming factors, the lessons learned may be even more applicable to failing schools.

When Ofsted visited St John in 1994, it found a school saddled with "very low" achievement and expectation among pupils and parents. No longer.

This week I stood before an assembly of 10 and 11-year-olds at St John and, accompanied by Eileen Muresan, asked one question: "How many of you intend to go to university?"

The students — immaculately turned out in their maroon and grey uniforms — took barely a nanosecond to register their response. Almost every one eagerly shot up their hand.

And when I quizzed them as to what they wanted to be, there were a dozen would-be doctors, a similar number of aspirant lawyers and even a potential astronaut (nobody laughed).

Yet, when I asked how many of their parents were doctors or lawyers, the hands shrunk back, all except for two whose mothers, it turned out, were nurses.

"The extent to which these children believe in themselves despite the impoverished backgrounds many come from is one of the outstanding features of our school," says Eileen, the former deputy who took over as acting head 10 months ago in the absence of Christopher Cosgrove who, following surgery, is on sick leave.

Their confidence is justified by their "exceptionally outstanding results" achieved in spite of "very low starting points".

In the past three years the proportion of 11-year-olds achieving the required level 4 or above for national key stage 2 results was 97-100 per cent in English, and 90-100 per cent in maths and science.

Not only do they far exceed the national average (of around 80 per cent), but St John faces a much tougher challenge than the average school: three-quarters of its pupils come from homes where English is the second language, and 43 per cent are on free school meals, compared to the national average of 16 per cent.

It's hardly surprising that whereas once few parents chose to send their kids here, today the school of 234 pupils is choc-a-bloc, with 105 children on the waiting list.

So how did St John turn itself from a school that failed the children of Lambeth to one that gives inspiration countrywide? "There is no single factor," says Eileen, "but if I boil it down, I'd say it's teamwork. The 1994 Ofsted report was devastating.

"We thought we were doing a reasonable job, but instead of moping about and saying "it's not our problem", we decided, as a team, to take a hard look at ourselves and change the way we were doing things."

Eileen, who joined the school in 1978 and became deputy head, had been on an 18-month secondment to the local education authority when Ofsted visited, but after the 1994 report, the headteacher promptly left and Eileen was made acting head.

Six months later, having turned down an opportunity to apply for the headship on a permanent basis ("I love teaching too much," she says), an energetic new head with a proven track record, Christopher Cosgrove, was drafted in and Eileen reverted to deputy.

In its October 2009 report, Ofsted hailed "the excellent teamwork" and leadership "heroics" of both Cosgrove and Muresan, who worked together to bring the school out of special measures in just two years, turning it into a "good" school and, since 2004, into an "outstanding" one.

In their 2008 inspection, the school got a remarkable "full-house" — meaning it was ranked "outstanding" in all 27 categories assessed by Ofsted.

"Abysmal pupil behaviour was the biggest obstacle to learning back in 1994," says Eileen. "Children were disruptive and we were regularly dealing with full-blown fights.

"The problem was that teachers applied discipline haphazardly — some strict, others lax — and the children took advantage. As teachers we were constantly exhausted and demoralised.

"When Chris joined as head, he invited us to visit his former school in Croydon and what we saw was enlightening: settled children focused on learning. We returned, thinking: We can do that!'

"But the way we did it was what defines us: we created a common behaviour policy for all teachers, but based on the input of the children themselves.

"We gave children ownership of the school rules. We asked: What do you need to learn effectively?' And they came up with a list that began: work quietly, be tidy, look after each other.

"These rules evolve every year. But because they set the rules, the children keep them. Our ethos of teamwork and our catchphrase — "Together everyone achieves more" — was actually coined by one of the students."

Next, says Eileen, they had to shake up the parents. "Previously hardly any parents pitched up to parent-teacher meetings and when we set homework we often faced a hostile response.

Instead of ignoring them we set out to contact every parent, making ourselves available whenever they could see us."

Today, she adds, they get 100 per cent parent attendance at parent-teacher evenings and have reduced "unauthorised absence" from 6 per cent to zero.

"Once we had parents on side," Eileen continues, "we began to set clear and challenging targets for each child.

The key to success is early identification of a child's needs and effective intervention, both at the bottom (illiterate) and top (gifted and talented) end of the spectrum. We use teaching assistants to give one-to-one attention where children need it, but we do it inside the classroom."

Cosgrove's policy of not sending children who were misbehaving out of class but encouraging them through providing extra teaching assistants was lauded by Ofsted.

But it couldn't have been delivered, says Eileen, "without the passion of the teachers, who regularly work 11-hour days, arriving at 7.30am and leaving at 6pm, as well as some weekends".

Walking through the brightly decorated school corridors, you could hear a pin drop. Yet inside each newly refurbished classroom it hums with industrious children keen to impress.

Their pride in themselves and their school is palpable. A display on the wall asks: "What makes us special?"

"If I could bottle it, I'd make a fortune," laughs Eileen.

But the sense you get from visiting St John the Divine is that the children, blissfully ignorant of the school's once-troubled past, know they are special because they are in such eminently capable hands.

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