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No.16
Tired and Tested, Theo Boyce, Head of Operations, Dukes Plus Consultancy shares lessons for creating powerful Personal
Rachel Chak Yan Li, Hills Road Sixth Form College, Cambridge Taiwan, the best healthcare system?
Finn Clogger, Magdalen College School, Oxford
Chris
Tim Fish Editor’s letter
Tim Fish, editor-in-chief of Insight, is CEO, Dukes Education, UK, and founder of Earlscliffe, a co-ed, international boarding school for students aged 15-19, in Folkestone, Kent.
Welcome to ‘Insight’ No 16, with its focus on ‘Academic Writing.’ We are delighted to showcase this year’s three winning entries in The Dukes Plus Essay Competition and congratulate Rachel Chak Yan Li, Finn Clogger and Yasser Maait accordingly, whose persuasive — and highly impressive — discourse you will be able to enjoy in the pages following.
An academic work of depth I recently enjoyed is Niall Ferguson’s ‘The Pity of War’, a 624-page tome first published in 1998, perhaps best known for Ferguson’s underpinning thesis that had Britain not entered World War I it would have been won relatively swiftly by Germany, thereby avoiding four and a half years of destruction. Indeed, Ferguson posits that ‘Europe could have been transformed into something not wholly unlike the European Union.’
What Ferguson does manage to do, which adds dimensional colour and additional context to what might be described as traditional historiography, is apply a breadth of coverage by posing 10 discrete questions, which effectively leads to the delivery of ten individual academic essays; these examine if ‘war was inevitable?’ and ‘why did men keep fighting?’, which allows analysis of both foreign policy and Freud’s ‘Beyond the Pleasure Principle’ and fighting men’s interaction between life’s basest instincts. In short, Ferguson ‘mixes it up’ and offers the reader a multi-lensed approach to understanding the ‘why’s’ and the what’s’ of the first mechanised major conflict. This long academic piece is further broken up, or made more readable, by the author’s many counterfactual assertions which are supported by an impressive array of sources, from poetry and diary entries, newspaper
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reports, official documents, so-called ‘death cards’, photographs and even records of beer production. For many readers of the work, perhaps the most striking take-away is Ferguson’s novel way of using statistics, which usually in a book of this type, refer to the production of pig iron, GDP and casualties of war. However, Ferguson grabs the reader by the throat when he presents ‘cost per kill’ data, such as ‘it cost the Entente powers $36,485.48 to kill a Central Powers combatant, but just $11,344.77 for the Central Powers to kill an Entente serviceman.’
Why am I telling you about ‘The Pity of War’? Niall Ferguson, as an academic writer, challenges many of the traditional views on World War I, and he does it in a fresh, incisive way. He makes it interesting... Read on!
Tim Fish Editor-in-chief
The Dukes Plus PrizeEssay
Alison Bissell, Director, Dukes Plus Consultancy, explains the value of independent writing to aspirational young students
The Dukes Education Essay
Competition was established in 2016. Inspired by the famous oneword fellowship examination held by Oxford University’s All Souls College, a colleague and I at Oxbridge Applications launched a version for sixth formers. Since then, the competition has evolved, now with four essay questions representing our four leading university consultancies.
The questions we chose were designed to prompt university applicants to contemplate relevant issues. Our medics were asked to identify the world’s best healthcare system and justify their choice, whilst our Oxbridge applicants were provoked by the statement “Essays no longer demonstrate a student’s
academic potential”. A-List’s question asked our US applicants to describe and justify what the ideal schools, existing in the year 2100, would be like, encouraging them to consider educational institutions as unique settings, in anticipation of their US college supplemental questions about their chosen institutions. Finally, our aspiring Lawyers debated the extent to which there is a legal justification for climate change protest — a hot topic which also forms the central issue in The Lawyer Portal’s mock trial course.
Sure, the essay competitions are designed to provide university applicants with personal statement fodder, but we also hope that the process of mulling over the topic has value in and of itself. Our competition is timed to
THEMEDIC P O RTALPRIZE OXBRIDGE
Rachel Chak Yan Li Hills Road Sixth Form College, Cambridge
Essay title
Identify the world’s best healthcare system
Finn Clogger
Magdalen College School, Oxford
Essay title
Do essays demonstrate academic potential?
Yasser Maait
Highams Park School, Waltham Forest
Essay title
Is there legal justification for extreme activism?
coincide with the school summer holiday, and we expect that students will have developed their ideas independently, without the educational scaffolding of a teacher’s support. This independence of thought and the self-motivation to submit an optional essay, due in the summer holiday, reinforce qualities which are vital for students as they progress to university.
Dukes Education is a beautifully broad church of schools and educators, united by common purpose. Whilst methodologies and philosophies are diverse within Dukes, our central drive is to give children the foundations for an extraordinary life, through education. In Dukes Plus Consultancy, we nurture children on
the precipice of adulthood making — what are usually — their first independent decisions about their educational future. University applications can feel like the culmination of the school journey and students are confronted with the reality that they are entering a global competition for university places. At Dukes Plus Consultancy we embrace competition and encourage ambition; competition can sharpen focus, drive motivation, and inspire. Fundamentally the experience itself rewards, regardless of who is crowned the winner. That being said, we celebrate our winners. Chosen from a sea of fascinating reads, these winners stood out by virtue of their originality and clarity. n
Identify the world’s best healthcare system
Taiwan — the best health-care system?
Rachel Chak Yan Li, Hills Road Sixth Form College, Cambridge
Have you ever wondered what it means to have the best healthcare system? According to Wikipedia, a healthcare system consists of all organisations, people and actions whose primary intent is to promote, restore or maintain health. Therefore, healthcare is one of the most essential and crucial parts of society and is considered to be a basic human right for the safety of human populations. Yet, different
healthcare systems have different ways of organising people and budgets, which might affect individuals’ ability to access healthcare. With its universal coverage, low government expenditure, highly digitalised system, and short waiting times, I believe that Taiwan has the best healthcare system. Taiwan has gained global recognition in recent years and is ranked 1st out of the 110 countries surveyed in the 2023 CEOWORLD magazine Health Care index.
First of all, Taiwan’s healthcare is characterised by its excellent accessibility and comprehensive population coverage. At the core lies the National Health Insurance System (NHI) adopted in 1995. It consolidated a system from a range of separate insurance schemes to a governmentadministered insurance-based national healthcare system, increasing the coverage from 57% to 99% of its 23 million citizens. This ensures every individual in Taiwan can access healthcare regardless of their income, since service charges will be covered by the NHI.
You might wonder whether NHI services will be limited to consultation and emergency services in public hospitals. The NHI covers almost all services, ranging from dental care to parturition, from Western medicine to traditional parturition, and from preventive services to elderly home care.
Additionally, 93% of healthcare providers are contracted with the NHI, both public and private. Therefore, this network can further increase accessibility, since Taiwanese citizens can see any doctor without a referral, and go to any level of hospital directly. Thus, it can provide more choices for those seeking top-notch medical care.
It is undeniable that healthcare systems owned by the government might cause inefficiencies in allocating resources due to low levels of competition, which results in high levels of government expenditure. However, since healthcare is a basic human right for everyone regardless of their wealth, everyone should have equal access to healthcare, which is also the aim of the WHO. Therefore, I believe that healthcare systems should be nationalised for the benefit for every citizen.
‘The Taiwanese Government is continuing to emphasise the importance of digital solutions to expand healthcare access and improve the quality of services’
‘Taiwan’s healthcare is characterised by its excellent accessibility and comprehensive population coverage’
Thus, healthcare systems without universal healthcare, like the US, would not be considered favourable as the best healthcare system since someone has to pay for it to get medical care. I believe that the best healthcare systems should be governmentowned, while maximising efficiencies in utilising budgets. Therefore, Taiwan would be the best example of this healthcare model. While other countries are struggling to keep expenditures low, Taiwan has been the pioneer in controlling costs. In 2021, Taiwan allocated 6.6% of its GDP to healthcare, in comparison to Sweden’s and South Korea’s 11.4% and 8.8% respectively. This difference can be mainly attributed to the global budget payment model in its NHI system. Under this model, the annual global budget for health insurance expenditure is allocated in advance based on the volume of medical services and a cost growth limited to 5%. This means healthcare providers receive a fixed amount of funding, which is intended to limit costs and facilitate efficient use of resources. This way, it will be an effective cost-limiting measure, particularly in these less competitive markets. With this in mind, you may wonder if it will affect the quality of services, with less innovative treatments and medical devices. In contrast, this cost-limiting measure could drive demand for efficiency while maintaining quality, with the help of
digital technologies. The healthcare system in Taiwan is highly digitalised. Each individual in the NHI will have an IC-embedded NHI smart card that stores and tracks medical history, which improves the swiftness in providing services and the diagnostic process with accessible medical records. Initiatives like NHI’s MediCloud System could further reduce inefficiencies, and the NHI’s openness to datasharing fosters collaboration opportunities. In addition to that, the Taiwanese Government is continuing to emphasise the importance of digital solutions to expand healthcare access and improve the quality of services. In 2023, TWD 300 million has been allocated for a one-year expanded telemedicine trial programme that is starting in the first quarter of 2024. Thus, healthcare services will be more efficient in Taiwan. Surprisingly, healthcare services in Taiwan have amazingly short waiting times compared to other systems with similar healthcare models. There is generally no waiting list and patients can normally see any specialist they wish to during the usual working hours. On the contrary, the NHS in the UK, which also provides universal healthcare, has long enough waiting times that can impact a patient’s health. Over 10,000 patients in the UK have waited as long as 18 months for a specialist referral. This shows that Taiwan has among the shortest wait times for specialist care, with the
country’s relentless emphasis on operational efficiency.
One of the major downsides in Taiwan’s healthcare system is a relatively low number of medical professionals. This is because there is a low number of nursing graduates, government quotas on medical personnel, high turnover rates due to long hours and stress, and capped reimbursement levels in the NHI scheme. However, I believe that Taiwan is on track to solve this problem through longterm investments in technology, education and promotion programmes. It can reduce the workloads of medical professionals with telemedicine calls and innovative devices, and improve the number of nursing and medic graduates with a better understanding of the roles they apply to. After considering factors such as accessibility, affordability, quality, and government expenditure, I believe that Taiwan’s healthcare system has the greatest balance between these factors. With this fundamental core of the universal coverage and NHI global budget payment model, alongside the continuous improvement in technologies, it is highly possible that Taiwan could be a role model for other healthcare systems. Basking in 91% public satisfaction, I believe that Taiwan has the best healthcare system, with its sustainable and innovative healthcare model. n
Do essays demonstrate academic potential?
Finn Clogger, Magdalen College School, Oxford
In his inaugural lecture at the London Institute of Education in 1963, Richard Stanley Peters, a founding father of the philosophy of education, defined an educated person as “distinguished not so much by what they do as by what they see”.1 In the following investigation, I will argue that essays no longer demonstrate a student’s academic potential, because they have transformed into drill or exercise, suggesting that they align with the “do” aspect of Peters’ definition, rather than the “see”. I argue that the main culprit for the
modern essay’s decline into mere drill or exercise is the growth of onomastic (naming) instincts, which limit a student’s wider cognisance of the interdisciplinary nature of the content of their essays. This can cause what Peters calls, “monadic myopia,” insofar as students rigidly adhere to one form of argument, remaining cognitively adrift from wider values and principles. To demonstrate academic potential then, is to reach beyond and “see” the broader perspectives that disciplines cast on other fields and on human life more generally.2
What were essays like when they began?
Beginning their life in the late 16th century, essays were quite different from what they are today. At that time, it was more common for essays to explore deeply personal thoughts and experiences, commenting on the virtues and flaws of the human condition. For example, Des Cannibales (Of Cannibals) by the revered essayist Michel de Montaigne, considered the illegitimacy of labelling unfamiliar communities as “barbarous” or “savage”, given an individual’s only notion of custom emerges from where they reside — we’ve come to know this principle as the concept of cultural relativism.3 Montaigne suggested that these supposed barbarous inhabitants actually lived closer to the uncorrupted perfection of nature, meaning they were superior to Europeans who often liked to “smother” it. What’s undeniable is that the essay genre lent important unity to Montaigne’s aphoristic wisdom; however, his essay (and his writing in general) was met with serious criticism. Montaigne had the tendency to restlessly change from one subject to another, delving into anecdotes, qualification and counterexamples and not spending enough time on purposive arguments and declarative statements of opinion.4 Montaigne himself suggested that his writing was like “the droppings of an old mind, sometimes hard, sometimes squittery,” which inevitably
invited the charge of selfindulgence and casuistry by critics, who cited his lack of closure as a significant drawback.5 Importantly, Montaigne’s critics embody a deep-seated yearning that had begun to develop at the end of the renaissance period; a movement away from scepticism and neostoicism (which treated human knowledge as purely conjectural) to a more formalised way of thinking, utilizing empiricism and the scientific method. The essay required a Copernican shift of its own, formalising objective principles using honest enquiries, and moving away from subjectivism. The main proponents of this shift, the so-called New Philosophers of Nature, such as Telesio, Patrizi and Bruno, grounded their works in nature, creating labelled principles that were far more accessible and could be universally upheld. This happened at a crucial time; the printing press was in full swing, and the industrial revolution was kicking off, meaning their works were disseminated across Europe. Their labels, then, were exported and taken-in by many more people, especially considering their accessible and universal nature. It can be argued that these New Philosophers of Nature are the first instantiation of materialized educational onomastics — they regard formalised, consistent principles, packaged neatly within labels, as a virtue over previous renaissance free-thinking.
‘Students ought to nurture their own agency and create a tender and personal relationship with the substance of their studies’
The Scottish philosopher and historian, David Hume, denotes an important stage is the growth of educational onomastics. In his first Enquiry, Hume bifurcated all objects of human reason into two kinds: relations of ideas and matters of fact.6 This segregation, which assumes the entirety of human reason and experience can be neatly boiled down into two kinds, is the epitome of considering neatly-packaged labels as a virtue. Of course, Hume’s fork is an incredibly important and useful tool during philosophical analysis; however, it demonstrates that our desire for educational onomastics is growing. We’ve come to know relations of ideas as analytic, a priori, necessary, and matters of fact as synthetic, a posteriori, contingent, but Hume doesn’t explicitly use these terms. Only when Kant published his Critique of Pure Reason did we adopt and apply these labels to Hume’s thinking. This shows that our appeal to onomastic instincts is augmenting and becoming a genuine practice within the educational community.
What is the essay like today?
Today the essay has become so steeped with formulaic writing that Montaigne wouldn’t be able to recognise it. As globalisation has occurred, the exportation of labelled educational domains has grown. Students are often taught using a labelled argument, whose responses have been similarly preordained. This is because the growth
of onomastic instincts means that arguments are more commonly known after their labelled form; it has become standard educational practice to refer to an argument as belonging to a thinker with a specified label. For example, an A-level theology student may refer to Gilbert Ryle’s Dogma of the Ghost in the Machine in order to refute Cartesian substance dualism. However, the labels applied to the argument are responsible for constricting a student’s exploration of the wider interdependencies that are present within their essay. Gilbert Ryle’s argument may indeed refute Cartesian substance dualism but perhaps Descartes’ separation of substance and extension wasn’t correct in the first place, meaning Ryle’s attempt to ‘explode’ the problem was essentially baseless.7 RS Peters would argue that this lack of “wittingness” and agency, which students have over the content of their essays, means that they cannot truly demonstrate their academic potential; they’ve become a mere “blinkered specialist in one such domain.”8 The essay has also become engendered with a litany of procedural principles that undermine a student’s demonstration of academic potential. The invention of TREES, PEEL, and PQA paragraphs doesn’t appropriately initiate students into the cognitive content of their essays in a meaningful way. Convincing a reader (one of the criteria
for a good essay) is simply achieved by displaying information in a specific form. It’s to the student’s detriment that contemporary essay methodology relies so heavily on assertions, citations, proofs, and expositional techniques, so much so that they have turned into quasi-fighter pilots, drilled and trained for insular success.9
What must a student do to demonstrate their academic potential?
Although it has become increasingly difficult for students to demonstrate their academic potential in their essays, there remains a basis for optimism. Our onomastic tendencies have indeed confined students’ wider cognisance of their subjects; however, they also provide clear boundaries that are necessary to transgress in order to demonstrate academic potential. Rousseau’s Treatise on Education, Emile, suggests that, like labels, tutors are mediators between students and the cognitive content of education. He declares that “education comes to us from nature itself”, suggesting that students ought to nurture their own agency and create a tender and personal relationship with their studies.10 Currently, the onus is on students to move beyond labels and form a more cognisant relationship with the substance of their essays. A particularly seminal paradigm of this behaviour is Baruch Spinoza and his work, Ethics. Unlike most
other contemporary writing, Spinoza does not begin his book with an introduction. Instead, his writing is seminated with obscure axioms and definitions which present themselves as stipulative premises. Although initially challenging, if a reader persists to the end of the Ethics, the truth of these stipulative premises will reveal themselves. Spinoza’s geometrical method, inherited from Euclid, achieves a pragmatic effect, insofar as the philosophical form can incur a theological revelation. To a student, this is concrete evidence that their essay needn’t be constricted to a call-and-response within a set domain. Reaching beyond and seeing broader perspective can enhance arguments, truly demonstrating academic potential. Crucially, this is not a turn back to Montaigne’s conjectural thinking, but a reflection and modesty about the limits and impacts of domains.
Conclusion
Since the inception of the essay in the Renaissance period, it has become increasingly difficult for students to demonstrate their academic potential. This is primarily because the growth of onomastic instincts has made the essay descend into drill; stripping students of agency and control over their arguments (in both form and content). To then demonstrate academic potential, is for students to regain control, seeing beyond the labels that confine them, and reviewing other ways of thinking. n
Is there legal justification for extreme climate activism?
Yasser Maait, Highams Park School, Waltham Forest
This essay focuses on the legal basis for extreme climate activism. Initially, I will look at the Necessity and Duress law, determining both its impact and the degree to which its use is limited. I will briefly outline legal articles to support the verdict as I sense it to be clear: the law does justify extreme activism, under an objective set of conditions. Secondly, this
essay will explore human rights legislation, analysing how extreme activism may be undertaken to protect one’s liberties, namely the right to a healthy environment. Here, I will interrogate Civil Disobedience and the definition of extreme activism, evaluating the need for a “physical element”.
Lastly, I will outline the limits of these justifications, considering when and
THELAWYER P ORTALPRIZE
why the law may not support extreme climate activism, by using philosophical arguments of jurisprudence, and specifically the proportionality principle; while also examining the moral and practical advocations for such laws.
For this essay, I will define civil disobedience as the rebellion against the state without violence, to protest against
injustice, demand institutional change, or to promote public morality. Moreover, “extreme climate activism” will be explored as a variant of “direct activism,” which aims to interfere “directly and physically on another actor or object”. This becomes important when investigating whether activities carried out by activist organisations are covered by such a definition.
The Law’s Justification for Extreme Climate Activism
Necessity Defence
The necessity defence is a legal principle used in situations of “sudden or extraordinary emergency” which condones law-breaking to prevent the continuation of an emergency. It is a defence that has found both success and failure in the courts, in part, due it being contingent on proof “that the action was due to an immediate need to protect property belonging to another,” as outlined by Lord Denning. Nonetheless, the necessity defence was ultimately rejected in the infamous case of R v. Dudley and Stephens (1884). This laid the groundwork for understanding how the necessity defence can only be used in the direst of situations, begging the question of whether climate change meets the criteria for such a definition.
This was later made clear in the 2008 R v. Kingsnorth Six case, with a direct implication on the legalities of climate activism. Six Greenpeace activists were acquitted of causing criminal damage to a power station chimney. Their defence claimed that their actions were necessary to impede further climate damage.
Crucially, this presented climate change as an emergency worthy enough to substantiate being used under the necessity and duress law. Thus, illustrating the activists to be moral citizens, only acting in fear of the deterioration of their surroundings.
Though this verdict is contested amongst judges. Some argue that the climate “crisis” will be exploited by criminals to justify law-breaking, undermining the rule of law, and resulting in a state of anomie.
To that end, one could assert that the intent to postpone a disaster is still a key moral liberty and should be respected, no matter the relevancy. The key precedent for this argument is when the State of Washington v. Kenneth Ward verdict was overruled on the grounds that he should have been allowed to argue necessity and duress as constitutional rights.
Ultimately, the Necessity and Duress law is a good law as it gives citizens legal leeway to fight moral evils in society, specifically in areas with little to no policing or proper governance. Thus, as made evident with the above precedent, the law does justify extreme activism on the ground of intent to prevent harm.
‘One could assert that the intent to postpone disaster is still a key moral liberty and should be respected, no matter the relevancy’
Human rights and environmental protection
It is also possible to assert that extreme climate activism, is acceptable under the scope of human rights legislation, which increasingly affirms the right to a healthy environment as a basic human right.
Defining extreme activism
To determine whether extreme activism is acceptable under the scope of human rights legislation we must first define what we mean by “extreme”, and whether that includes a physical intercession. In the ground-breaking case of Clientearth v Shell, the environmental NGO took the innovative step of derivative action, enforcing section 260 of The Companies Act 2006. This was revolutionary in that it allowed the NGO to target their legal claim towards the board of directors for their non-compliance with the environmental articles of the UK companies act and the ruling of the Dutch court. This sort of activism may be defined as extreme as it is radically original and an unprecedented use of the law.
Though this would not constitute direct activism, as it did not seek to interfere with the functioning or success of the company.
But rather to argue that the Board’s plan for shifting the company away from fossil fuels by 2050 is simply insufficient — which, in turn, endangered the success of the company.
Compare this to Just Stop Oil activism, which can be described as direct activism due to its nature of public disruption; such as halting traffic or stopping sporting events. These actions include a physical element of obstruction and thus calls for more urgent reform. Ultimately, we may reaffirm that for extreme activism to be considered direct activism it must include an element of physical obstruction.
The case of systemic inaction
Activist groups often argue that extreme measures are justified to protect their fundamental human rights when the government fails to do so.
In the landmark case of Urgenda Foundation v. State of the Netherlands, the Dutch Supreme Court reaffirmed the ruling that governments are under an obligation to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and take aggressive measures to do so, as per their human rights obligations. This ruling underpins the legal recognition of the urgency to address climate change in order for a
‘Balancing individual rights with societal needs is an important process to ensure that direct actions do not threaten the general public or national security’
government to truly fulfil the natural liberties of its constituents. Consequently, this may be interpreted by activist groups as justification for extreme activism in the case of systemic inaction.
Nonetheless, dissenters argue that judicial acceptance of extreme activism can set harmful precedents that allow for economic disruption and political rebellion, all of which are harmful to the stability and security of a sovereign state.
We can consider these to be weak arguments as they ignore historical events of civil disobedience where citizens are considered morally righteous and have their actions against the state justified under law. In the case of DPP v. Ziegler & Others (2021), environmental activists were acquitted on all charges of obstruction, as their actions were justified under Articles 10 (freedom of expression) and 11 (freedom of assembly) of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR). This case proved crucial in encouraging the general public to fight against environmental injustices and to rebel against the government, defending it under the protection offered by their natural liberties.
Legal limits to extreme activism
Proportionality and reasonableness
The law places limits on extreme activism, ensuring that actions remain proportionate and reasonable. Balancing individual rights with societal needs is an important process to ensure that direct actions do not threaten the general public or national security. Whilst human rights legislation, such as Articles 10 and 11 of the ECHR, does protect freedom of expression and assembly, these rights are contingent on their proportionality.
They can be restricted by powers of authority (i.e. the state police) if such limitations are deemed necessary for the interests of national security, public safety, or the protection of the rights of others in a democratic society. This principle was made evident in R (on the application of Laporte) v. Chief Constable of Gloucestershire (2006), when the House of Lords ruled in favour of anti-Iraq War protester, declaring the need for proportionality in imposing restrictions on protesters’ rights, while also reaffirming the prerequisite of maintaining public order.
Thus, the proportionality principle proves to be vital in jurisprudence as it preserves the
balance between social stability and effective protest, known as the “balance of rights”, and ensures that excessive activism does not cause undue injury or disturbance.
Conclusion
In conclusion, the verdict, I would argue, is clear: extreme climate activism — as a form of direct activism — when maintained within the limits of proportionality, is justified under law. Its legal defence is typically argued in two ways: the defendant was purely evoking their human rights, specifically their freedom of speech and assembly, to fight public injustices. Or the necessity defence, in which, under the Necessity and Duress law, the defendant is permitted to break the law in situations of emergency, of which climate change qualifies. Though the ramifications of such activism are controlled, within a clear set of limitations of proportionality, governed by the state to protect democracy. While some might think it ignorant to reject the counterarguments made by dissidents; that being, it would undermine the rule of law, resulting in anomie, and that intemperate activism causes harmful disruption against the state. One negates these arguments through the abundance of legal-historical precedent that supports civil disobedience. n
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Tired and Tested
Theo Boyce, Head of Operations, Dukes Plus Consultancy, shares lessons for creating powerful Personal Statements
Ever since I was a child, I have longed to study Geography...”
The room feels heavier. Your eyes glaze over. Inside, a little part of you wilts. Dr. Marie Buda, an ex-Cambridge admissions interviewer and friend, recently sent me a voice note. She sounded defeated.
“It’s a sad state of affairs,” she sighed. “Writing should be a means of expression, of connection. We write because we have something to say. But now it’s all become performative pseudo-intellectualism. The A-level system has turned writing into a tick-box exercise.”
I have sympathy for these young people. At 17, they’re being asked to make choices
that will shape the next few years of their lives, if not their entire futures. They must navigate the labyrinth of mysterious degrees and universities, all the while attempting to cobble together a personal statement that demonstrates not just passion, but ‘deep engagement’ with their subject.
But sympathy only goes so far. At a time when you can produce a mediocre essay or personal statement as fast as you can type a ChatGPT prompt, the battle to find the specific, the idiosyncratic, and the interesting, has never been more pressing. Below are three tools — and accompanying exercises — to help the fight: specificity, thought, and voice
Specificity
A tide of beige sweeps across the page: “I have always wanted to make a difference”, “In today’s fast-paced world”, “It has always been my dream...”. Grand statements, generalisations, or definitions, usually fail to connect.
Shakespeare connects with people because of the detail. Banquo doesn’t say, “What a lovely castle Macbeth has! It’s the best castle I’ve ever seen!” He says, “This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry that the heaven’s breath Smells wooingly here.”
Iambic pentameter aside, specificity and detail help to battle against the generic. Encourage students to think of their writing as a conversation with a super-smart friend, not a generic motivational poster. If they love biology, don’t write, “I’ve always been passionate about biology.” Instead, take the reader to the frog dissection where blood vessels twisted like threads in a spider’s web, showing the intricate map of life. It can be the extra touch of vivid detail — connected to credible academic focus — to make introductions come alive.
Exercise for Specificity
The Details in the Mundane:
Ask students to describe a mundane object in vivid, specific detail perhaps a pencil, a cup, or a shoe. They should focus on sensory elements like texture, colour, sound, or even smell. Once finished, challenge them to take that same level of detail and apply it to a moment in their academic journey: a book, an experiment, or an experience that ignited their passion. This can help them move from vague descriptions to vivid, tangible moments.
Thought
Students need to give evidence of their motivation, but they must balance this with showing their potential as first-class thinkers. This is where sharing authentic, personal academic thought is crucial, and these must go beyond listing what they have read and whether they agreed or not. My academic friend, Dr. Marie Buda, came up with the helpful division of ‘thinking’ into three directions: backwards, sideways, and forwards.
First, thinking backwards; deconstructing the ideas they’ve read or been taught. Just because a theory has been put forward by an eminent scholar doesn’t mean it’s flawless. Perhaps Marx’s theory of alienation seems incomplete, or Foucault’s panopticon feels less omnipresent than he imagined. They should question and challenge ideas, asking why they work (or don’t).
Thinking sideways is where creativity comes into play. The best essays and personal statements I’ve seen draw connections
between seemingly unrelated ideas. Maybe they see a link between genetics and the evolution of social movements, or between chaos theory and behavioural economics. These unexpected connections can be brilliant, provided they work.
Finally, thinking forwards means taking the theories they’ve read and pushing them into the future. Where could this idea lead? What comes next? How would you investigate this further? If they’re discussing psychoanalysis, how might it evolve in light of modern neuroscience? If they’re critiquing neoliberal economics, what comes next in a world facing climate catastrophe?
Involving backwards, sideways, and forwards thinking can help students avoid simply repeating ideas, and instead show their ability to interrogate concepts as living, evolving entities. This not only showcases their critical thinking but also demonstrates their potential as successful undergraduates.
Exercise for Thought: Mind-Mapping Ideas in Three Directions:
Have the student choose a key theory or idea they want to discuss in their statement. Divide the paper into three sections: backward, sideways, and forward. In the backward section, they should deconstruct the theory who created it, why it works (or doesn’t). In the sideways section, they should brainstorm connections to other subjects or fields. Finally, in the forward section, they should propose what comes next what questions remain and where further investigation might lead. This exercise helps students develop ideas to show a multidimensional engagement with their references.
‘Involving backwards, sideways, and forwards thinking can help students avoid simply repeating ideas’
Voice
The third essential tool is voice. What drains essays and personal statements of life isn’t just the lack of specificity or original thought — it’s the absence of an authentic voice. We need to remind students that the goal is to neither mimic a textbook or an academic journal, nor to pepper their statement with insincere synonyms for ‘passionate’ (are you really ‘utterly mesmerised’ by economics?), but to write in a way that’s distinctly theirs. An essay devoid of voice may be technically correct, but it will fail to leave a lasting impression. Voice doesn’t mean adopting a flamboyant or overly casual tone, but rather allowing the personality behind the words to breathe. This means encouraging students to write with the same honest tone they would use in an engaging conversation — thoughtful,
clear, but unmistakably their own. After all, it’s not the subject that makes an essay memorable, it’s the perspective. Take, for example, two students writing about the same scientific discovery. The first student writes, “The Treaty of Versailles, signed in 1919, was a significant turning point in European history, primarily due to its profound impact on the geopolitical landscape of the continent.” This is factually correct but reads like a textbook. The second writes, “The Treaty of Versailles didn’t just redraw maps; it planted the seeds of resentment and instability that would ignite Europe again two decades later. I’m interested in how turning-points in history reveal political failures and guide future diplomacy.” The latter student brings their perspective into the writing, writing from the first person,
Exercise for Voice: The Honest Rewrite:
Ask the student to write the most formal, textbook-like paragraph they can about a specific moment in their academic journey without worrying about voice. Then, have them rewrite that same paragraph as if they were telling a friend or family member about it. Encourage them to bring their natural way of speaking into the rewrite. Compare the two and use the second version to help the student identify where their voice shines through. This shows them they don’t need to sacrifice clarity to sound academic
and showing personal engagement with the subject and a critical understanding of its long-term impact.
Finding that balance is crucial — it allows their personality and intellectual curiosity to shine through in a way that distinguishes them from the hundreds of other essays written in identical tones. There are other ingredients needed for a successful personal statement. Yet, these three elements — specificity, thought, and voice — are increasingly forgotten, and can raise the quality of a personal statement significantly. Specificity roots their writing in the tangible, the real, the human. Thought ensures they go beyond regurgitation and truly engage with ideas. And voice makes their writing distinctive, showing the reader not just what they know, but who they are. n
Nurturing Academic Writing in the Digital Age
Dr Cristina Tsibiridi, Head, International School of Athens, discusses the importance of critical research and writing skills
Academic writing is a skill that young learners often struggle with as they progress from the early school years of creative expression, drawing on their imagination and more immediate environment, to the demands of fact-based exposition and argument. It is common for students to reach a stage where they feel
that they have mastered certain knowledge areas, a phenomenon stemming from the early excitement of learning something new. This feeling of being an expert is a natural part of growth. However, true expertise is something that develops with time, reflection, and personal experience — over a lifetime, even.
In our fast-paced, information-rich world, students have unprecedented access to knowledge. The internet has revolutionised learning by making vast amounts of information available instantly, and young learners are taking full advantage of this. While this access is a remarkable tool, it comes with a challenge: the quality and accuracy of the information students encounter can be inconsistent. With so many unverified sources, it is easy to see why some learners may fall into the trap of relying on questionable or inaccurate information and, as a consequence, not only developing a false sense of expertise but also
fostering ignorance.
As educators, it is our duty to teach students the essential skill of information literacy — showing them how to research carefully, identify credible sources, and distinguish between fact and fiction. This is a fundamental aspect of academic writing that can make or break the quality of a student’s work. Our goal is not only to help them find the right answers but also to understand the process of inquiry itself.
When students use online search engines, they are often presented with personalised results based on their search history. This can create an “information bubble,” where they are repeatedly exposed to similar
‘Reading a book in a library provides a sense of inner calm and tranquillity’
types of content, potentially limiting their exposure to a broader range of ideas. For this reason, encouraging students to explore traditional sources, such as books and encyclopedias, remains invaluable. Physical texts often lead students to unexpected insights and unsought information — skimming to find a given page, the eye wandering to the next entry — expanding their knowledge in ways that algorithm-driven searches might not. By fostering diverse research methods, we guide students to look beyond the convenience of a search engine and cultivate a deeper, more varied understanding of their topics.
At the International School of Athens, we ensure students are exposed to more traditional ways of researching at a very young age. We teach our students how to use the library, and we encourage them to appreciate the serenity of that process. Reading a book in a library provides a sense of inner calm and tranquillity: an opportunity for a child to create their own psychological space. In addition to understanding the origin and “angle” of sources, and the possible relationship between those sources and their authors, students must learn how to properly attribute the information
they gather. Teaching them how to reference and cite sources instils in them a sense of academic integrity. Acknowledging the contributions of others, even through something as simple as citing a photograph, reinforces respect for intellectual property and encourages a more thoughtful, responsible approach to research.
Another aspect educators need to address in the context of academic writing is the increasing role of artificial intelligence (AI). AI tools are becoming incredibly sophisticated, capable of producing well-structured essays with minimal input from the user. While these tools can be helpful for gathering information or generating ideas, they present a dilemma. If students become too reliant on AI to complete their writing tasks, how will they fare in situations where they need to produce original thought on their own, such as during exams?
Academic writing is about more than just stringing words together. It involves critical thinking, analysis, and the synthesis of information. If students bypass these processes by using AI, they miss out on opportunities to develop these crucial skills. Moreover, writing is an essential form of communication. It is through writing that students learn to express their ideas clearly and logically. Over-reliance on AI undermines this growth, saving students from an immediate need to
grapple with the complexities of organizing their thoughts and refining their communication skills — at the risk of severely undermining their ability to do so in the future.
In this rapidly evolving digital landscape, the role of educators is more vital than ever. We must guide students not only in how to find information but also in how to engage with it critically, synthesize it meaningfully, and express it clearly. We also have a responsibility to teach them that writing, whether academic or creative, is a process that involves multiple layers: research, analysis, drafting, revision, and referencing.
By teaching young learners how to navigate the complexities of academic writing, we equip them with essential skills for their future. In an age where information is abundant but sometimes unreliable, the ability to research thoroughly and communicate effectively is more important than ever. Our challenge is to help students embrace both traditional and modern approaches to learning, ensuring they can adapt to future challenges while staying grounded in essential academic principles.
Ultimately, our goal as educators is to inspire critical thinkers and independent writers who can navigate a world overflowing with information and emerge as informed, articulate individuals capable of making meaningful contributions to society. n
‘Our goal is not only to help them find the right answers but also to understand the process of inquiry itself’
Academic writing from the perspective of an academic
Medieval historian and Managing Director, Prof Mark Bailey provides an academic’s perspective on academic writing
Academic writing, especially in the humanities and social sciences, can be a tortuous process. One award-winning historian did not write a book or an article for ten years, so paralysed was he by underlying insecurities about the inadequacies of his work. A sociologist
devoted two whole years to honing the footnotes — yes just the footnotes — of the book of her thesis for tone and precision, involving countless sleepless nights. When I asked one old lag the secret to a long career in an Oxbridge college, he replied earnestly ‘you must always be on the verge of completing your magnum opus’.
‘My last monograph was voted ‘Book of the Year, 2021’ by the Oxford University Insomniacs Society’
This article offers a perspective on academic writing from an academic historian with forty years’ experience. That might sound worthy and authoritative, although this academic does not presume for one moment that his view on the subject is worth seeking. After all, my last monograph was voted ‘Book of the Year, 2021’ by the Oxford University Insomniacs Society. Academics can be scathing about the writings of others. One recent peer review of a hefty history historiographic survey opined, ‘this is not a book to cast aside lightly. It should be thrown with all the force you can muster’.
Having dispensed with the formalities, and the gags, I’ll begin with the obvious observation that nowadays universities provide clarity and guidance in abundance on what constitutes good academic writing, aimed primarily at postgraduates writing theses. Thank goodness. Forty years ago, there was no written guidance whatsoever so any understanding of what it entailed had to be acquired through a haphazard combination of observation, emulation, random osmosis and the opining of one’s supervisor.
These days, the template guidance on good academic writing provided by university faculties in the humanities and social sciences runs to many pages. When boiled down to its essentials, it advocates beginning with a review of the scholarly literature, which in turn leads
to the identification of a set of research questions based on gaps in the scholarship. Next comes the selection and description of an appropriate methodology, and the pinpointing of a relevant evidentiary base, with which to address the research questions. It is downhill from here. Presentation and evaluation of the evidence, discussion of sample typicality and shortcomings, conclusion and areas for further research. Oh, and appendices and bibliography (wherein lies all the faff).
Within this, there is also guidance on the ‘how’ of academic writing. One major point is to ensure precision and focus in the research questions asked: they should be specific and closed if they are to have any realistic chance of being answered. Another aspect of growing importance is the relevance and wider applicability of the subject matter, especially in the underfunded world of academia where the acquisition of knowledge for its own sake is now an unaffordable luxury.
For me, there is one element within the art of academic writing which does not much feature in the guidance and more generally lies too low on the radar: the duty to respect truth and to uphold scholarly integrity. In practice, this involves rigour and even intellectual courage in interrogating the strengths and weakness of the existing state of knowledge, especially within the context of cancel culture; it requires an inexorable transparency
about the methodology adopted, and honesty about its shortcomings; and it demands a sustained disinterest and openmindedness in the handling and presentation of evidence, including the recording of nil returns (what wasn’t found) as well as positive evidence. Be honest about what doesn’t fit, or what is contrary, and engage with it.
This is of subtle and arcane importance, so I shall attempt to elucidate it through three examples. First, sometimes academic writing is clever for its own sake, rather than using cleverness to advance knowledge. For example, some economists attempting to explain the emergence of capitalism and the modern world order have built impressive mathematical models to weigh and identify the main drivers over the last millennium, but the data they input — pilfered from the arcane work of some unwitting historian — can be very flimsy and of questionable relevance. I once raised this at seminar where an academic was making vast claims for the results of his modelling, having inputted dodgy data, who later confided shamelessly that he wasn’t interested in the quality of the data because the quality of the mathematical modelling would propel his career. That does not respect truth.
Second, much academic writing leans heavily on theoretical concepts, which are valuable in providing a helpful package of intellectual tools and a set of searching
questions with which to understand the vast and complex topics which are the subject of most academic writing. However, they also have their drawbacks. While theoretical approaches tend to be powerful and compelling, by their nature they also tend to be unbalanced.
Less obvious, but of great significance, they often fail to point out how the unstated presuppositions of their underlying political ideology have narrowed the research questions and the range of evidence, and also predetermine the way these are interpreted.
To illustrate this point crudely: the Marxist presumes the dominance of ‘exploitation’ and ‘class conflict’ in social relations, goes looking for choice examples, thereby proving the theory. But how sound is the presumption about ‘exploitation’ and how is ‘exploitation’ defined? Who determines when, say, charging someone for rent is exploitative rather than reasonable? Likewise, what is the basis for presuming the prevalence of class conflict, and who decides whether a street riot is classified as criminal ruffianism or class resistance? Furthermore, in seeking evidence for exploitation and conflict, Marxist narratives often fail to assess even-handedly the absence of conflict, even though such nil returns are essential to contextualising the frequency of conflict. In these ways, the unstated agenda of the writer has a major influence on the
‘Criticism, and active engagement with alternative viewpoints, should be the bedrock of advancing knowledge and understanding in a culture where truth is respected’
research questions, the selection of evidence and its interpretation, but the reader is seldom aware how the inherent bias produces a very particular version of truth.
Third, academic writing which ignores the existence of significant critiques of its arguments or alternative viewpoints does not respect truth or uphold integrity. Some academics are excessively defensive and negative about constructive and well-evidenced criticisms of their work and respond by simply not referencing or engaging with them in their subsequent publications. I have known academics, when acting as referees for peerreviewed journals, suppress the publication of valuable work containing a critical or alternative viewpoint to theirs. Such criticism, and active engagement with
alternative viewpoints, should be the bedrock of advancing knowledge and understanding in a culture where truth is respected. Yet some academic writing appears to be more committed to protecting the author’s personal legacy than enhancing knowledge.
These observations about respect for truth and integrity do not, of course, engage with post-structuralist discourses doubting whether truths can definitively exist. Instead, they are founded on a belief that, even at its best, academic writing can always aspire to be influential, but it can never be definitive. It is part of a process to advance knowledge, it is not an outcome. Smug cleverness, dogma and personal legacy inhibit the process: the antidote is good academic reading, whereby one learns how to spot such inhibitors. n
Chris Sweet, Deputy Head (Academic), discusses Cardiff Sixth Form College, Cambridge’s, approach to teaching writing skills
Academic writing is a foundational skill that students need to develop to express their ideas clearly and engage critically with content.
Despite our College’s focus on STEM subjects, all students will encounter extended writing in either their A-levels, when writing Personal Statements for UCAS, or later on in their academic careers. It is therefore crucial
to equip our learners with writing skills to match their proficiency in Maths or Computer Science, say. One way we ensure this is by insisting on English for Academic Purposes (EAP) lessons throughout Years 12 and 13, even when students have met their target IELTS scores. This seems apparently in contrast to the approach adopted by some colleges with an international cohort.
Explicit teaching of writing skills
Recent research underscores the importance of explicitly teaching writing strategies. The Education Endowment Foundation’s (EEF’s) Writing Approaches, in Years 3 to 13 evidence review, highlights several effective methods, including teaching students how to plan, draft, and revise their writing. (Slavin, et al., 2019) One critical aspect is breaking down the writing process into manageable steps, making the thought processes behind writing explicit and accessible. Students benefit from
structured instruction on how to construct essays, formulate arguments, and edit their work. This scaffolding supports students’ development of writing skills over time. We aim to incorporate similar approaches in our teaching: giving students clear expectations and structures to scaffold writing and adopting an iterative approach to redrafting. This is similar to the ‘Hochman Method’, becoming more popular in US High School contexts. (The Writing Revolution, n.d.)
Targeted feedback
Feedback plays a crucial role in improving student writing, but its effectiveness depends on how it is delivered. Instead of focusing on superficial errors, feedback could target specific misunderstandings and offer clear steps for improvement. Indeed, in subject teaching, our approach prioritises subject-related corrections rather than on correcting grammar or spelling. In our A-level curriculum lessons, feedback should be precise, focusing on the quality of students’ ideas and subject knowledge rather than being overly fixated on grammatical accuracy.
A key challenge in teaching writing is knowing when to correct errors, particularly for English language learners (EAL students). Research on error correction stresses the importance of being selective. According to
the British Council, teachers should avoid overloading students with corrections on every language mistake. Instead, focusing on one or two key language issues — particularly those that impede meaning — while prioritising the correction of subject-specific errors, ensures that feedback remains manageable and effective. (Donald, 2024)
This is especially true in subjects like mathematics or chemistry, where the primary focus should be on students’ understanding of core concepts. For example, if a student misuses terminology in a Biology essay, the teacher could correct that term but not dwell on every grammatical mistake. Prioritising the subject over form encourages students to learn the correct content without feeling overwhelmed by constant corrections.
‘Feedback should be precise, focusing on the quality of students’ ideas and subject knowledge rather than being overly fixated on grammatical accuracy’
Pre-teaching
vocabulary
for better writing
One way to improve students’ writing is by preteaching key vocabulary before introducing a new topic. Vocabulary is often a stumbling block for students, especially in content-heavy A-level courses. Pre-teaching allows students to become familiar with essential terms before engaging in more complex writing tasks, reducing cognitive overload.
For instance, a chemistry teacher might instruct students in terms like “oxidation” and “catalyst” in a prior lesson before asking them to write about a chemical reaction at a later
stage. This ensures that students can focus on applying these concepts in their writing rather than struggling to recall terminology. Research from the EEF suggests that pre-teaching vocabulary not only enhances understanding but also boosts students’ confidence when tackling challenging subjects. (Quigley & Coleman, 2021 October) The way in which different subjects understand texts and teach literacy will soon become clear to students. This emphasis on ‘Disciplinary Literacy’ is important. (Shanahan & Shanahan, 2008)
Allowing limited use of first language
In multilingual classrooms, allowing students to use their first language (L1) strategically can help them grasp complex concepts. Research has shown that permitting limited use of L1 can aid students in organising their thoughts and making connections with new material. For example, allowing students to discuss ideas in their first language before translating them into English can make the writing process more manageable. (Kerr, 2019)
Incorporating this practice can be especially helpful when teaching EAL students challenging content, such as scientific concepts or economic analysis. However, teachers should set clear boundaries, ensuring that English remains the primary mode of communication, while allowing space for L1 to support comprehension where necessary.
Collaboration
One of the most effective ways to improve students’ academic writing is through collaboration between departments. In our college, for example, the chemistry and English departments work together to address the specific challenges that students face when writing in chemistry. This includes using precise language to describe complex concepts, common errors of English usage and even repeated spelling and grammar errors. This information is woven into EAP teaching, so that the process reinforces progress in both subjects.
In conclusion, improving academic writing requires thoughtful integration of researchbased strategies. By adopting practices such as explicit writing instruction, targeted feedback, selective error correction, preteaching vocabulary, and allowing limited use of students’ first language, we can create an inclusive and effective learning environment. The EEF’s research provides a clear roadmap for how school leaders can embed these practices into classroom teaching. (Quigley & Coleman, 2021 October) By fostering a culture of writing that emphasises clarity, feedback, and subject-specific skills, we can ensure that our students are not only better writers but also better thinkers, prepared to succeed in a range of academic and professional contexts. n
Bibliography
Donald, R., 2024. Error Correction 1, British Council, Teaching English. [Online]
Available at: https://www.teachingenglish.org.uk/professionaldevelopment/teachers/knowing-subject/articles/error-correction-1 Kerr, P., 2019. The use of L1 in English language teaching. [Online] Available at: https://languageresearch.cambridge.org/images/ CambridgePapersInELT_UseOfL1_2019_ONLINE.pdf
Quigley, A. & Coleman, R., 2021 October. Improving Literacy in Secondary Schools — Guidance Report. [Online]
Available at: https://educationendowmentfoundation.org.uk/ education-evidence/guidance-reports/literacy-ks3-ks4 [Accessed August 2024].
Shanahan, T. & Shanahan, C., 2008. Teaching disciplinary literacy to adolescents: Rethinking content-area literacy. Harvard Educational Review, 78(1), pp. 40-59.
Slavin, E. R. et al., 2019. A Quantitative Synthesis of Research on Writing Approaches in Years 3 to 13. [Online]
Available at: https://educationendowmentfoundation.org.uk/ public/files/Writing_Approaches_in_Years_3_to_13
The Writing Revolution, n.d. The Writing Revolution — Method. [Online] Available at: https://www.thewritingrevolution.org/ method/ [Accessed 2024].
Visualising Discourse
Ellen Crozier, Vice Principal (Academic) and Sustainability at Rochester Independent College
What is academic writing and what is it for?
Academic writing involves engaging in a discourse — a dialogue or a discussion — between the author, the reader and other texts about key issues and ideas.1 At its highest level it moves our collective thinking forward and changes the world.
At school, the most academically challenging writing students will engage in is at A-level, and the pinnacle of this form of writing is the discursive essay. It is possible for all students to independently plan and write high-quality essays across subjects if we train them from primary age in consistent routines that don’t use too many words.
How is discourse engaged in?
Discussion appears, by its nature, to be linguistic. To train students for discursive essay writing, we often begin with speaking, conducting an oral debate, which is a very good place to start. If you can say it, you can eventually write it. We may provide models for students to read, giving them a full essay or breaking text into chunks to analyse closely.
Many of us start with the paragraph-level aspects of academic writing, drilling students in ‘Point, Evidence, Explain’ and variations thereof. Yet I remember thinking, as a bewildered Year 7 in a Geography lesson, ‘What IS a point? And how do I know what my point is?’ I didn’t ask, because I assumed everybody else knew.
Sometimes the teacher would tell you what the points were and you’d be left to PEE them. Sometimes a textbook would provide the points and you’d EE them. But scaffolding where the child doesn’t do any independent point generation does not effectively prepare students for academic thinking, and without academic thinking there can be no genuinely academic writing. When we don’t train students first in being able to generate points, they waffle, plagiarise and use excessively long words or AI to mask the fact that they don’t know what they’re talking about.
Hyland defines ‘metadiscourse’ as the linguistic mechanisms that writers use to organise their discourse and engage readers.2 We often teach the
vocabulary of metadiscourse (the ‘however’s’, ‘therefore’s’, ‘on the other hands’, and ‘in conclusions’). But this alone does not enable students to structure their thoughts coherently across a whole essay.
A student must know first the point of their writing, and that doesn’t come from treating each paragraph separately. The child must see the purpose of the whole, then the detail will fall much more easily into place. Instead of starting with ‘Point, Evidence, Explain’, those of us who teach academic writing should first be asking ourselves ‘How do we teach people to generate points?’.
The second thing to consider when making academic writing accessible is Vygotsky’s concept of inner speech: reading and writing depend hugely upon our capacity to process auditory information.3 Speaking and listening do so directly, reading and writing indirectly: we need to either decode or encode auditory information from or into visual information, in the case of writing, via our hand. Simultaneously, we need to ‘hear’ our internal voice with flow and retain what we have internally ‘heard’ for a few seconds so as not to lose our elusive ‘point’.4
Using words that require auditory processing to explain an already challenging auditory process potentially doubles the inaccessibility where auditory processing is weak or working memory overloaded, especially for those with EAL,
‘Yet I remember thinking, as a bewildered Year 7 in a Geography lesson, ‘What IS a point? And how do I know what my point is?’
I didn’t ask, because I assumed everybody else knew’
auditory processing disorder, ADHD or dyslexia.
We need a visual graphic routine — a thought tool or set thereof — to teach point generation and overarching essay structure early and in a visual way that students can then tag vocabulary to. This routine needs to be consistently applied, spiralling to more sophisticated levels, from primary school through to A-level.
Here are two thought tools which, when combined, prove extremely powerful in generating ‘points’ for academic writing. The basics of both tools can be taught to primary-age children and gradually built upon, with no ‘unlearning’, enabling use of the same tools when that child plans their PhD thesis. We can then gradually hang all the excellent paragraph- and sentence-level advice — PEE and metadiscourse markers — onto this visual structure without overloading working memory.
The Causation Mindmap
This offers students a graphic routine to think with different factors, causes and methods and evaluate them to find a most important cause, a most effective method or a most influential factor. It can be used to revise whole topics and make connections between causes/factors or methods ahead of planning and writing an exam-style discursive essay. It can be used to predict the drivers in all the possible discursive essay questions that could be set, especially if the teacher
designs the mindmap with reference to a body of pastpaper questions, revising it as each exam series generates new questions. It can also be used for ‘multi-factor’ essays, where there is a less clearlydefined ‘two sides’ of the argument. It is especially useful in English Literature with ‘Explore...’ and ‘How does the author...’ questions where the effectiveness of a variety of themes or literary devices may be explored and evaluated.
The Discursive Essay Plan
This offers students a graphic routine to plan their essay, seeing it as a whole. This routine provides visual cues for all the stages of metadiscourse design to be undertaken in the correct order. Year 7 could focus simply on stages 1 and 3, with teachers providing paragraph topics under which to categorise the evidence. By the time a student reaches A-level, this process can result in very elegant discursive essays that reflect the original thinking of the student. Teachers can adapt this structure to the questions carrying the most marks in the Humanities and Social Sciences whilst staying true to the principles of the positioning of each element. Question stems include ‘Evaluate the view...’, ‘To what extent...’, ‘How far do you agree...’ ‘...Discuss’.
The stages are undertaken in the following order:
Identifying the two sides of the argument from reading the question.
Deciding on the main conclusion.
Deciding on the order of your paragraphs — so that in each paragraph pair, you end on the side of the argument that you think is correct.
Deciding on the topics of each paragraph pair (often the most difficult part but if the causation mindmap has been used first, students will already have a structure for this).
Placing supportive evidence in the correct topic and side of the argument.
Deciding on topic or interim conclusions.
In the classroom, we would model and ‘do’ together, then in pairs, then alone to explain the process rather than have students read convoluted written instructions.
At RIC, we are currently piloting a collaboration between the Business and Economics and EAL departments, using consistent visual thought tools for discursive essay planning and explicitly linking this process to Bloom’s Taxonomy. The aim is to make the thought process of academic writing less language-dependent and therefore more accessible to those with EAL. n
1 Bakhtin, Mikhail, ‘The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays’ (1981)
2 Hyland, Ken, ‘Metadiscourse: Exploring interaction in writing’ (Contiuum. 2005)
3 Vygotsky, Lev, ‘Thought & Language’ (1934)
4 Baddely, Alan, and Hitch, Graham, ‘Working Memory’ (1974)
Institute of Education
Bruce College
IRELAND
UNITED KINGDOM
Colegio Inglés English School of Asturias
Colegio Internacional de Valladolid
Colégio Júlio Dinis
PORTUGAL
United Lisbon
International School
SPAIN
International Sharing School
Colegio Inglés Zaragoza
Engage Independent School Joyfe Centro Professional Joyfe
Saba Verda International School International English School of Castellón
Elian’s British School of La Nucía
Beehive Square Primary School Prague Humanities Grammar School š.po
Copperfield International School SWITZERLAND
Meet the Family
Founded in 2015, Dukes brings together a carefully curated group of nurseries, schools, colleges, education consultancies and student experience organisations.
Our central team is based in London. From here, we serve our settings in the UK and Europe, providing administrative support and training, whilst promoting high-performance, leadership and wellbeing.
American Academy in Prague Bambíno
American Academy in Brno
JK Education
American Academy in Zagreb
Verita International School
International School of Athens
CROATIA
ROMANIA
GREECE
CZECHIA
The last word…
Every week at Dukes, we share a ‘Quote of the Week’ offered up by one of the team. We’ve collected some of our recent favourites.
“Let me tell you something about war: nobody ever wins a war — one side gives in and that doesn’t mean to say you’ve won a war if the other side has decided they’ve had enough. So let me ask you sincerely to make sure that you, all of you, don’t make the same mistakes we made in going to war because there’s nothing grand or what have you about war.”
George Chandler, British soldier deployed in Normandy Landings, 1944
“The biggest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it.”
Robert Charles Swan, OBE, FRGS
Thanks to Victoria Davies Jones, Head of Marketing and Admissions, Broomwood
“It is very important to grasp that outstanding leadership is not just about humility and modesty. It is equally about ferocious resolve, an almost stoic determination to do whatever needs to be done to make the company great.”
Jim Collins
Thanks to Julian Davies, Principal, Cardiff Sixth Form College Cambridge
“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”
Dr Seuss
Thanks to Malin Rogland, English Teacher, United Lisbon International School
“Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.”
Harriet Tubman
Thanks to Asha Ali, Nursery Teacher, Miss Daisy’s Belgravia
“We may have a perfectly adequate way of doing something, but that does not mean there cannot be a better way. So, we set out to find an alternative way. This is the basis of any improvement that is not fault correction or problem solving.”
Edward De Bono
Thanks to Rhonda Qually, Head of Marketing and Admissions, Notting Hill Prep
“Determine that the thing can and shall be done, and then we shall find the way.”
Abraham Lincoln
Thanks to Anna Aston, Director of Communications
“One child, one teacher, one book, one pen can change the world.”
“Education is education. We should learn everything and then choose which path to follow. Education is neither Eastern nor Western, it is human.”
Malala Yousafzai
Thanks to Carly Baker, Deputy Head, The Pointer School
START THE JOURNEY
An IB school for all seasons
An IB day and boarding school, located in the Swiss Alps from ages 4-18. Offering all IB curriculums.
Dukes Education is a family of nurseries, schools, and colleges in England, Wales, Ireland, Spain, Portugal, Greece, Czech Republic, Croatia, Romania and Switzerland. Our schools cater to children from 0-19, serving them from their earliest years at nursery until they leave school to go on to university.
Surrounding our schools, we also have a collection of complementary education offerings — day camps, international summer schools, and university application consultancy services. This way, we create a wraparound experience for every family that joins us.
