Author: Tony Staneff

It’s been a big week for education. After months of speculation, the Curriculum and Assessment Review Final Report is finally here and, for once, it feels like we’re pointing in the right direction.

There’s plenty to welcome. We now have a clearer sense of purpose for each key stage and, crucially, a renewed focus on getting the foundations right. The proposals to strengthen early fluency, sharpen reasoning and problem solving, and tackle that tricky Key Stage 2 to 3 transition feel spot on.

It’s also great to see recognition of the importance of teachers being involved in shaping and feeding back on any new programmes of study. Change works best when it’s done with the profession, not to it.

Over the last decade, maths education in England has climbed a long way. We’ve built professional expertise, invested in curriculum materials, and created a shared language around teaching for understanding. We’ve come a long way up the mountain and that progress deserves real credit.

But if I’m honest (and I’ve said it as few times), it feels like we’ve been at a basecamp for a while now. We’ve reached a point of stability and consistency, which is an achievement in itself, yet the next ascent has been waiting for a signal – something bold enough to move us forward again.

The curriculum review could be exactly that signal. The curriculum could be that catalyst that gets us moving to the next camp. The key is that we climb together. In the past, some have slipped from the path, perhaps losing confidence, enthusiasm, or the firm footing of strong foundations. This time, we can’t leave anyone behind on the mountain.

From vision to investment

Budgets are tight – we all know it, and it’s what we hear every day. That’s why we have to use what we’ve got wisely. Rather than spreading our efforts thin, we should focus on a smaller number of programmes that deliver maximum impact.

In my view, the biggest long-term gains will come from getting the foundations right – deep conceptual understanding, high-quality curriculum resources, and evidence-based programmes that truly help teachers teach well.

Just as phonics brought structure and clarity to early reading, maths needs its own ecosystem of well-researched, high-quality options. But not a single mandated programme. Choice matters. Schools should be able to choose the approach that best fits their pupils, from a market of trusted providers, all aligned to the same curriculum spine.

Alongside all this, we need ambition. Becky Francis’s report has a clear thread of ambition running through it built on “aspirational entitlements for all.” We’ve spent years debating what we mean by foundations in maths, and the new curriculum will finally set out (hopefully with greater clarity) what we want children to know. Now we need a national target for what we want them to achieve. We have one for reading, so why not for maths? What could be more important at this stage of a child’s life?

The reasoning and problem-solving challenge

I was delighted to see the report’s repeated emphasis on reasoning and problem solving. Those words appeared again and again. As Will Power puts it in his excellent response, “Developing problem-solving skills, especially in Key Stage 2, is vital… There should be explicit teaching of domain-specific strategies so pupils build a bank of patterns and models.”

He’s right. We’ve talked about reasoning and problem solving a lot over the last decade, but international comparisons show it’s still an area where we can do better. The language of reasoning matters, but are we asking the right questions to draw it out?

In addition, our approach to problem solving feels ad hoc, often varying from lesson to lesson, teacher to teacher. We need a shared language and framework that anchors us.

This remains one of the toughest challenges ahead and a key part of the climb still to come.

KS3: a national challenge

If we’re serious about progress here, we need a long-term mission. In the past, I’ve called for a National 10-Year Challenge for maths. By 2038, no child should lose the progress they make in primary, particularly those from disadvantaged backgrounds.

Imagine a network of National Maths Challenge Leads, working with schools and trusts to embed the new curriculum, strengthen teaching, and close the gap once and for all. This could a real system for change, a system that uses every lever, from curriculum and assessment to CPD and resources, all pulling in the same direction.

The new curriculum will give us a clearer destination. The question is whether we stay at basecamp or begin the next ascent.

We’ve made great progress to reach this point and we should be proud of that. However the summit is still ahead. The curriculum review, and the three priorities above could be the very thing that helps us climb higher together.

We’ve been given the what. Now we need the how, the support, and the ambition to keep moving.

This could be the moment we have been waiting for – the start of a new chapter for maths education built on clarity, ambition and shared purpose.

And that’s what Tony Reckons.

There’s been a lot of noise in the news lately about a new national target – 90 per cent of children reading fluently by the end of Year 2. It’s an ambitious goal, and rightly so. Every teacher I know wants children to leave Key Stage 1 with the joy and confidence that comes from being able to read.

But it got me thinking… why stop there?

If we can have a national ambition for reading, why not for maths too? So here’s my pitch:

By 2030, every child in England should be able to bridge 10 confidently, fluently and flexibly by the end of Year 2.

Bridging 10 might sound like a small skill, but it’s one of those beautiful mathematical turning points that changes everything.

Children who can bridge 10 don’t need to count on fingers for 8 + 7 or 13 – 6 in my experience they understand how numbers fit together.

I remember talking to colleagues during the England–Shanghai Teacher Exchange, and they described bridging 10 as a landmark concept in their teaching – a real foundation for later success. It totally makes sense. Over the years I’ve taught plenty of GCSE students who still rely on their fingers for number work. I never told them off for it, we all do what we need to get by, but it always struck me how much earlier we could have built that understanding.

Think of the collective hours spent by teachers across the country trying to strengthen number sense further up the school. Wouldn’t it make more sense to invest that time earlier?

For me, bridging 10 is one of those invisible thresholds that once children cross it, other things start making sense and feeling easier. Think of where this is used.

Australia Leading the Way

Across the world, education systems are realising the power of these early building blocks. Over the weekend I spotted an article about education reform in Australia. Their new national plan starts right where it matters most – maths in the Foundation to Year 2 years. They’re simplifying what’s taught, clarifying the order, and helping teachers focus on the bits that really matter. It’s exactly the right place to start.

And there is an opportunity to do the same here

With the final outcome of the Curriculum and Assessment Review looming, this is the perfect moment to be bold and to put early number back at the heart of our national conversation. Not to beat schools with a stick or churn out another spreadsheet of league tables, but to set a shared goal, a north star for what success in early maths looks like. A collective ambition that says – this is what we value; this is what we’re all working towards.

Of course, it’s important to say this isn’t about reducing mathematics to one narrow goal. Bridging 10 matters deeply, but it’s just one part of what it means to think mathematically. Alongside it, children need to explore shape, pattern, structure, measurement and geometric reasoning – all the strands that make maths rich, creative and connected. A national focus on early number shouldn’t mean everything else fades away – it should act as a foundation that strengthens the whole mathematical journey.

So yes, let’s keep our 90 per cent reading target but consider another one too.

By 2030, 90 per cent of children in England can bridge 10 with confidence, fluency and joy.

A small skill with a massive ripple effect.

Something like this feels like a national mission worth getting behind.

And that’s what Tony reckons.

Last month marked an anniversary that didn’t get much of a mention. Before you start frantically checking your calendar, no, you didn’t miss my birthday or anything.

It’s been ten years since Ofsted released their report, Key Stage 3: The Wasted Years? Remember that one?

Over the last decade, I’ve heard that report referenced many times – in conversations, blogs, and presentations. So, on its ten-year anniversary, I thought I’d give it a re-read. I hoped it might be like revisiting a favourite cosy mystery, spotting clues I’d missed the first time. Instead, it felt like reading the prologue to a story we’re still stuck in.

A Decade Ago: The Stark Warning

Reading the 2015 report again, the first thing that strikes you is how stark Ofsted’s verdict was. It packed no punches. The charge sheet for what was going wrong for 11 to 14-year-olds was long:

• KS3 was “The System’s Poor Relation” and was consistently overlooked.
• The best teachers and sharpest focus were reserved for the high-stakes GCSE and A-level years.
• A bungled transition – Schools poured energy into pastoral care (which is vital, of course) but often forgot the academic hand-off. They failed to build on what pupils had already learned.
• The Groundhog Day curriculum – A staggering 39% of Year 7s said their maths work was simply a rerun of what they’d done in primary school.
• Coasting high achievers – Those highest achievers were not being challenged enough, commonly left to tread water until the exam years kicked in. The report noted that there was often a failure to adapt provision for the most able disadvantaged pupils in Key Stage 3.

The warning was crystal clear – we had to stop wasting these crucial years.

Fast Forward 10 years – UCL Report

Just over a week ago, University College London (UCL) produced a timely report. They tracked a group of over 30,000 disadvantaged pupils who were in the top quarter for maths attainment at age 11. These were our highest achievers, the very students with the most potential. The report shows what happened to them.

61% achieved at least a grade B/5 at GCSE (compared to 82% among all high achieving pupils)

The UCL report points to slow progress during secondary school as being a potential key driver. The problem starts right back in those “wasted years” that Ofsted waved a red flag about a decade ago. It feels like we are telling the exact same story, just with updated statistics.

The TIMSS Time Machine

Avid fans of Tony’s Angle (hello to both of you!) will know I’ve been digging into the 2023 TIMSS (Trends in International Mathematics and Science Study) results. A few things stood out.

Two things stood out to me.

Firstly, our primary pupils in England are flying, with a score well above the average of 500. However, by the time they hit Year 9, those gains have eroded. While still above average (and let’s absolutely celebrate that), the score is significantly lower. My first thought was that this dip must be a universal feature of the primary-to-secondary transition. But when you look at a country like Australia, the gap between their primary and secondary scores is far less pronounced. In England, the decline in progress is a consistent pattern.

Digging deeper into the data, there’s more evidence. While we’ve improved significantly in procedural areas like algebra, our performance in the cognitive domains of reasoning and problem-solving looks like it has barely budged.

So, Have We Wasted Another Decade?

Not completely. That would be unfair. There are brilliant schools and passionate departments out there making KS3 a genuine priority, refusing to treat it as a holding bay for the exam years.

But at a system level? Have we ducked the big questions>

This isn’t about pointing fingers at dedicated Heads of Department who are grappling with staff shortages and countless other pressures. This is a system challenge that we should try and tackle. For me, acknowledging the difficulty doesn’t mean we accept the status quo. If the story of the last ten years has been one of stagnation, the story of the next ten is entirely up to us.

10 Recommendations

It’s about what we do next. We can make a different choice. For what it is worth, here are my thoughts

1. Elevate the Status of KS3: Make Key Stage 3 maths a genuine priority within schools, on par with exam years.
2. Launch a ‘National Challenge’: Establish a 10-year, government-backed mission for KS3 maths, with funding for professional learning through maths hubs.
3. Appoint a ‘National Challenge Director’: Create a specific national role to oversee and improve the academic progression from KS2 to KS3.
4. Champion ‘Change Driver’ Schools: Identify and fund schools that are excelling in KS3, empowering them to share best practices across the system.
5. Improve Data Sharing: Work with EdTech to create a system for richer, more detailed data transfer from primary to secondary schools.
6. Research the ‘Summer Dip’: Commission a major national study into summer learning loss, focusing on why it disproportionately affects disadvantaged pupils.
7. Build, Don’t Repeat: Redesign the Year 7 curriculum to ensure it builds directly on KS2 learning from the very first lesson, eliminating repetition.
8. Create a ‘Transition Curriculum’: Develop a specific, statutory, dedicated curriculum for Year 7 to bridge the gap effectively.
9. Embed Problem-Solving: More explicitly integrate reasoning and problem-solving skills into our curriculum.
10. Deploy Expert Teachers: Work with schools to find ways to ensure the most experienced and effective maths teachers are assigned to teach Key Stage 3 classes, not just GCSE and A-level.

In 2015, Ofsted told us KS3 was wasting talent. In 2025, UCL and TIMSS have shown us the bill for that inaction. The evidence is in. The question is no longer if there’s a problem, but what we’re going to do about it.

Do we want another sequel in 2035 called The Still Wasted Years, or do we finally decide to rewrite the script?

And that’s what Tony reckons.

Until next week.

By overwhelming popular demand (and by that, I mean the same two friends who keep asking), Tony’s Angle has officially been recommissioned for its humble return.

Welcome back to Series 2. The powers-that-be have trusted me with a blockbuster run of eight – count ’em, eight – whole episodes this season. Apparently, a full 24-episode network order is still a mile away, so while I watch other bloggers broadcast from what look like Scandinavian furniture showrooms, I’m back in the same cupboard, with a cardboard city backdrop that’s starting to curl at the edges.

Anyway, enough about the high-stakes world of educational blogging. Let’s get to the topic that’s actually important and may dominate some headlines in coming weeks, the future of GCSE Maths.

Warning – it’s a bumper episode … but it’s worth it

One qualification, two purposes

There’s a lot of talk at the moment about ‘alternative’ maths qualifications. We’re hearing about ‘driving-style’ practical tests and standalone ‘numeracy tests’ designed to solve the problem of the thousands of students who leave school without a pass.

As I read it all, I get a powerful sense of déjà vu.

If you look back at my posts, you’ll see I’ve never been sold on ‘alternative’ qualifications. I believe they inevitably create a two-tier system, where some qualifications feel like a ‘lesser’ option or a consolation prize. That’s not what learners want (shown in declining entries) or deserve.

Where I do agree is that our single, high-stakes GCSE in Maths isn’t working for everyone. The fundamental problem is that its purpose is completely confused. It’s trying to be two different things at once and they are often at odds.

On one hand, it’s treated as a purely academic subject, a test of what a student knows in ‘maths’ by age 16. If that were its only job, the grade should only matter for further study in that specific field, just like with History or Geography. We should not be talking about it in the news as much. The ability to complete the square would be irrelevant to most life paths and so let’s not worry!

On the other, its gatekeeping nature means it’s treated as the essential proof of functional numeracy for work and life. The Education Select Committee highlighted this just this week, stressing the need for the qualification to ensure “more children leave school with sufficient levels of numeracy.” In my opinion, these two purposes are in constant conflict, creating a battle over what the qualification should contain and what it truly signifies.

A world with ‘alternative’ qualifications

Before we rush to create an ‘alternative’ numeracy qualification to solve this, let’s actually imagine that world. Picture a system where 70% of students sit GCSE Maths and 30% are guided towards the new numeracy course. This immediately creates several unavoidable paradoxes.

First, there’s what I will refer to as the pass rate paradox. If we remove the 30% of students who are least likely to achieve a Grade 4, then the pass rate for the remaining cohort sitting the GCSE should logically soar towards 100%. Are we, as a system, ready for the headline ‘GCSE Maths is Too Easy’? Or would the grade boundaries simply be shifted to maintain a ‘normal’ distribution, meaning we would just end up ‘failing’ a different group of students?

Next, there’s the curriculum paradox. If the suggestion is that weaker students do both qualifications (as we need to keep pass rates for GCSE about the same), then we create a bizarre situation. We’d be taking the learners who would benefit most from more time and intense focus on GCSE Maths and instead splitting their attention with a secondary course. It’s a solution that could inadvertently put them at an even greater disadvantage.

Finally, there’s the social dilemma for school leaders and parents. If a child is streamed onto this new pathway, how will their parents react? I suspect engaged parents will insist their child sits the ‘gold-plated’ GCSE, the one we keep telling them opens doors. This risks a situation where the students guided onto the alternative path are disproportionately those with less parental advocacy – the very students whose life chances we most need to improve.

I could go on – about employers, universities, and the learners themselves. If we are serious about introducing alternatives, we have to confront these realities. There’s a reason these qualifications have failed to gain traction in the past. The headlines have been just as loud. My question is, why are we so determined to repeat the same cycle instead of fixing the root problem?

A Chance to Rethink GCSE Maths

The curriculum review is a rare chance to bring some clarity, and the real prize is rethinking the GCSE itself. Instead of suggesting useful content for an alternative qualification, we should be demanding that it becomes part of the main GCSE.

If we continue to insist GCSE Maths is both a measure of academic success for future achievement and a measure of a numerate society then we need to stop patching the system and finally become obsessed with making our core maths qualification truly fit for purpose.

Here’s an idea I have seen floated, that I like. Why don’t we seriously consider breaking it in two?

Maths X, laser-focused on the stuff society says everyone genuinely needs – financial literacy, data interpretation, spotting fake news, practical estimation. Maths Y, covering the more abstract algebra, spatial reasoning and trigonometry that are the essential building blocks for STEM subjects at A-Level and beyond.

Make both qualifications compulsory for all students and give them both the full status of a GCSE. With that single change, I believe you abolish the perception of a ‘lesser’ path.

Of course, there are practical questions. The first is time. But we already spend more time on maths at KS4 than any other subject, yet English successfully has two GCSEs and Science can have three. The second question is about comparability with the past. The answer is, it would be different, but perhaps that’s exactly what is needed. This is evolution that the Curriculum Review was calling for.

Finally, there’s the argument for teaching maths for its inherent beauty. On this, my idea is clear – I’m not suggesting different qualifications for different students. I’m saying we should have both qualifications for all students. Everyone gets to see the beauty. Everyone gets the life skills that society says our teenagers need.

I actually don’t think this is a radical shift. However I get to some that this might be seen as a big move and of course system-wide change is a daunting prospect.

I ask, if we can’t be bold right now, can we at least be curious? Let’s empower those of us in the sector who are ready to innovate. All we’re asking is for the DfE and Becky Francis to crack the door open to a meaningful pilot of a dual qualification system with each having equal value.

I’m just part of the problem

Finally, a fair challenge could be – shouldn’t people like me get behind these new alternative qualifications to give them a fighting chance? If we showed them our support, perhaps they’d gain greater respect. It’s a valid point. Maybe I am part of the problem, too busy critiquing from the side lines instead of championing a practical solution for the students the system failing right now.

To me it feels like we’re just patching up a leaking pipe while ignoring the flood warning. Supporting alternatives could be a pragmatic short-term fix, but it lets us off the hook from asking the bigger, more uncomfortable question –  why does a qualification designed for universal education still ‘fail’ a third of our learners? Tackling that question properly would mean a fundamental, no-holds-barred look at the GCSE itself. And while that’s a much bigger fight, it’s the one that actually matters in the long run.

And that’s what Tony Reckons.

Well, some good news and some bad news to kick off the week.

The bad? This is the final Tony’s Angle of the season.

The good? The network suits have seen the light and commissioned a second series! We’ll be back in the Autumn. I can sense the excitement now!

For my final topic this term, I want to talk about something that gets right to the heart of why I, and so many others, walk or (walked) into a classroom every day. It’s something I care about deeply, and frankly, the data is starting to flash some warning signs we shouldn’t ignore.

When I first stood in front of a class, my one mission was to make sure students left my room not just understanding maths, but enjoying it, and feeling more confident after every single lesson. I wanted my classroom to be a place where they saw the beauty in numbers and, crucially, where every single one of them felt they could succeed.

The loss of the ‘Love of Learning’

Fast forward a couple of decades, and last week, I found myself at the launch of a report by the All-Party Parliamentary Group for Education. It’s called ‘The Loss of the Love of Learning’, and I’ve spent the weekend with it. It paints a… sobering picture.

Loss of Love of Learning Report – All-Party Parliamentary Group for Education

Now, I’m a positive person, I hope that comes across. But I can’t shake the feeling that if we are not careful, we are at danger of squeezing the joy out of education for some. This isn’t just a hunch. The report makes it plain – too many of our children are switching off.

And how do we know?

We see it in the attendance figures – one in five pupils are now persistently absent, a number that’s alarmingly high compared to pre-pandemic levels. We see it in the rising need for elective home education, with mental health being a primary driver for parents making that choice. We see it in the behavioural challenges that are disrupting lessons, costing an estimated seven minutes of learning for every thirty.

When you listen to the voices in this report – the pupils, the teachers, the experts – a clear picture emerges. Our children are feeling the immense pressure of high-stakes testing. They’re navigating a curriculum described as “a mile wide and an inch deep”, where subjects like art and music are being pushed to the margins in places. Time for curiosity and reflection feels like it is vanishing, and learning is in danger of becoming a tick-box exercise rather than a journey of discovery.

For clarity, this report does not blame teachers. Far from it. It highlights that they entered this profession to inspire, yet many now find themselves battling an “audit culture” that creates “empty work” and having a deliver a bloated curriculum at rapid pace, which can crush the very spark they need to ignite young minds.

I don’t think these words in this report can be ignored.

There is plenty of hope

Reading this report also gave me hope.  Firstly, it gives a powerful, unified voice to these concerns and shows there’s a growing consensus for change. We see glimmers of it in the government’s own curriculum review, which finally acknowledges that the sheer volume of content can get in the way of deep understanding and enjoyment.

We hear it loud and clear from the students themselves, who are calling for a curriculum that reflects their lives and the incredible diversity of our society.

This isn’t about pointing fingers or abandoning standards. It’s about being brave enough to look at the system and say, “This part isn’t working.” It’s about trusting our teachers as professional and empowering them to bring learning to life.

The love of learning isn’t lost. It’s just a little buried in places.

And I don’t think I’m alone in thinking all this. I was struck by a Schools Week article from Becks Boomer-Clark, CEO of Lift Schools, who challenged teachers and leaders in her school ‘to make KS3 unforgettable.’ She believes, as I do, that we need ‘a focus on engagement alongside rigour,’ and that we absolutely must ‘build a system where imparting knowledge isn’t about dry delivery.

Curriculum: Labour’s path to effective reform is a tightrope

So, what do I think can be done?

• First, we need to rethink what we value. Let’s look beyond just data points and celebrate depth of understanding, creativity, and connection.
• Second, we must protect the whole curriculum. A child might find their passion in drama, music, or design.
• Third, we have to back our teachers. That means giving them time, trust, and the professional freedom to actually teach.
• And finally, and most importantly, we need to listen to the pupils. They are on the front line of this. They’re telling us what’s wrong. Let’s give them the chance to tell us what would make it right.

Rethinking Curriculum Resources

This report isn’t just for schools; it’s also an invitation for schools and teachers to have a deeper partnership with curriculum and resource providers. It gives all of us a chance to reflect. Many providers are already creating brilliant, flexible resources that help all children succeed but when we hear that teachers are sometimes constrained by a curriculum that feels like a ‘high-pressure sprint through content’, we should ask ourselves – what more can be done to support

There’s clearly a huge opportunity on the horizon to do just that. The government’s own curriculum review has opened the door.  It’s a chance for resource creators to lead the way, in partnership with schools, to innovate, and to design the next generation of materials that are not only rich in knowledge but are also built for engagement, for creativity, and for rediscovering that love of learning.

And that’s what Tony Reckons!

Right, that’s all from me for this season! For every single person out there, who has worked so hard this year to keep our schools going, or supporting them – have a fantastic summer break. Switch off, recharge those batteries, and find some joy.

Have a brilliant one, and I’ll see you after the holidays. Take care.

If I had a pound for every time a student said, “When will I ever need this in real life?”, I’d have… well, I’d be a millionaire I reckon.

Here’s the thing.

It’s not just teenagers muttering it under their breath – it’s adults too. Politicians. Journalists. Your mate who still tells you that he never uses maths ever!

Somewhere along the way, we let the myth grow: that maths isn’t for the real world.

Now, I’ll defend maths to the death. I think it’s beautiful. Elegant. A kind of magic. I don’t want a world where we only teach it if we can slap a price tag on it or tie it to some crazy real life context (triangular blocks of cheese or sweets than Hannah buys).

Right now, we’ve got a golden opportunity. There’s a curriculum review on the horizon, and if we’re bold – properly bold – unbelievably bold – we could make maths more relevant, more motivating and more connected to the real world without dumbing it down.

Because here’s what I think: –

We should be doing more with financial literacy.

We should be doing more with data.

And we must be doing more to help young people leave school with the confidence to make smart, safe, empowered decisions in a world that throws interest rates, misinformation and crypto-currency at them from the age of 18.

I’ve been reading the latest Pearson EPI report this weekend – the one about post-16 resits. A couple of things jumped out:

“Students enter 16–19 education feeling demotivated, with anxiety, fear of failure, and low confidence from earlier schooling.” and “Attendance and engagement pre-16 are strongly linked to resit outcomes.”

My Translation: You can’t just try to fix things with a bit of maths therapy after Year 11.

If you want better outcomes post-16, we’ve got to do better pre-16.

And one way to do better? Make more of maths meaningful. Not just post-16 – why does it suddenly only become relevant there. Not just in GCSE. From the start.

That doesn’t mean every lesson turns into which mobile phone is the best buy. But let’s at least build towards a system that gives students two shots at success, like English.

I’m still talking dual qualifications.

One for mathematical thinking, theory, abstraction.

One for applied problem-solving, future-readiness.

Both compulsory. Both valuable. Both respected.

I’ve talked about what it could look like in the past and I still stand by this.

We owe it to the kids who sit in silence (and many who let you know) wondering why this matters. We owe it to the teachers trying to convince them it does. And we owe it to ourselves to finally close the gap between the maths we teach and the lives they’ll lead.

And that’s what Tony reckons.

See you next time.

It’s my birthday today (written on 30th June if you want to save the date for next year). No balloons. No surprise party (that I am aware of anyway). Just a quiet moment with a coffee and a cake.

I trained to be a teacher in the late 90s.

What you might know is that wasn’t quite the original plan.

Believe it or not, I actually wanted to be an air traffic controller. It wasn’t just a fleeting idea – I’d had my heart set on it for years. There was even a spell when I fancied being a Customs and Excise Officer too (blame the old TV series The Knock for that one!).

I went through all the assessments and made it right to the final stages. I was certain that was going to be my life. Then the letter arrived (in the days we got paper letters).

“Unfortunately, you’ve been unsuccessful… please reapply next year.”

Absolutely gutted.

Bursaries, Bursaries, Bursaries

The very next day, I walked into uni and spotted a poster advertising bursaries to train as a maths teacher. I had never seen them before, but for some reason today they stood out. One of those tiny, seemingly throwaway moments that – if you believe in fate (and I now do) – changes the direction of everything. I didn’t know it then, but that rejection was probably the best “no” I’ve ever received.

I signed up to train as a secondary maths teacher. It was one of a handful of courses where you also needed a second subject. Now, I was hardly an outdoorsy type. Camping? Not for me. Climbing? Terrifying. So naturally, I chose outdoor education. Why? To this day I’m not sure. Possibly because someone mentioned a shortcut – you could tick the box if you completed a football refereeing course.

So, one cold weeknight, I turned up to Weetwood Hall in Leeds for the first of what would be 10 or 12 sessions. A refereeing course. One evening a week. A couple of dozen people (all male) in a room. Sky Sports highlights on a portable TV. A copy of the rulebook, just in case anyone tried to fake it.

In that room, everyone else seemed to know football inside out. They played, coached, watched, lived it. They debated offsides with the energy of people solving world problems. I, on the other hand, sat quietly in the corner, trying to work out which direction the whistle should point. I nodded a lot. Repeated phrases I half-understood. “Run the Z” I would say!. Tried to blend in. I didn’t have a clue then. I still don’t.

But I’ll never forget how it felt to be in that room. The trainers were enthusiastic. The people were friendly. But I was out of my depth. I didn’t know the language, the in-jokes, the subtext. I didn’t feel confident to ask questions. That quiet voice in my head said: “Just keep your head down and don’t get picked on.”

A Sense of Belonging

It was the first time I’d properly understood what it feels like to be the one who doesn’t “get it.” Not because I wasn’t smart or couldn’t do it – but because I lacked the background knowledge. I didn’t feel like I was part of the club.

That feeling has stayed with me. It is something that I reflect on regularly. It’s probably one of the most important things that’s shaped the kind of teacher and leader I’ve tried to be.

Because in every classroom, there are children sitting there just like that. Quiet. Hoping not to be noticed. Just trying to get through the lesson without being exposed. They might be brand new to the country. They might be neurodiverse. They might have so much potential but have missed key building blocks. Or they might just feel like maths isn’t for them.

The training course wasn’t the problem. The people weren’t unkind. But the experience taught me something powerful about belonging. It’s not always about what’s taught. Sometimes, it’s about how it feels to be in the room.

So now, every time I think about inclusion, about teaching, about how we help children succeed – I think of that room at Weetwood Hall. I remind myself: it’s not enough to invite children into learning. We have to welcome them in. Make them feel safe. Equip them to thrive. Never let them feel like the quiet outsider who just hopes they won’t be asked to explain the offside rule.

Whether it’s 1999 or 2025, great teaching still starts with empathy, clarity and creating the kind of room where everyone believes they belong.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to eat some birthday cake and pretend – just for today – that I do understand football.

And that’s what Tony reckons.

Until next time.

Just Because It Sparkles…

Let’s get something straight.

A well-designed PowerPoint or beautifully crafted worksheet doesn’t teach children maths.

We all say it. We all know it. But… sometimes we forget to act on it.

Occasionally we assume the quality of the resource will carry the lesson. But the truth is, the magic happens when the teacher brings it to life.

On Friday, I had the joy of speaking at my first conference in a while – full of brilliant maths folk working with hubs and schools across the region.

There were top sessions from Ed, Alison, Johnny and Darren. Really inspiring stuff. (Lovely to see you all!)

But what really struck me was a shared concern I heard again and again:

“We’re seeing too many teachers we work with just click-next-slide. We want teachers to make the resource their own.”

One delegate put it perfectly:

“We’ve unintentionally created a culture where the resource leads the lesson… not the teacher.”

It’s no one’s fault.

We’re all working under pressure.

But if we’re not careful, resources go from tools to crutches.

Philosophy of Use

So I shared an idea I’ve worked with schools on in the past. Create a Philosophy of Use.

Don’t worry – it’s not a 43-page manifesto. It’s a short, honest, staff-written guide to how you use resources … and how you don’t.

To get started, we asked three questions:

• “A great resource allows a teacher to…?”
• “A resource is not…?”
• “The danger with a resource is…?”

There were some great responses!

“A great resource models the concept, promotes independence, supports the teacher and works for all learners.”

“A resource is not a script, a substitute teacher or something to hide behind.”

“The danger is it can replace teacher thinking, create misconceptions or crush creativity.”

Gold dust.

Get your team to do this and suddenly you’ve got a bit more clarity. A shared language. A compass for new staff and experienced ones alike.

Start Small. Think Big Later.

Then we got practical.

If your school’s facing issues like this – too much clicking, not enough thinking – what could you do?

You don’t need a revolution. You don’t need to panic. You need to begin with what I called low-risk adaptations.

Here are a few that came up:

• Live model an example on the board – don’t just click through it.
• Tell a story. Make that banana-and-apple slide actually mean something.
• Set a slide limit. Five max. It’s doesn’t need to be a Netflix binge!

None of this needs a policy. Just a bit of intent.

Final Thoughts

I want to stress that it’s not about throwing out the resource. It’s about breathing life into it. Trusting yourself. Backing your instincts.

Because great lessons aren’t just delivered. They’re interpreted – like a piece of music brought alive by the musician holding the baton. They need your tone. Your timing. Your ability to read the room and change direction, mid-sentence if needed.

And that’s the part no resource can do.

The magic happens when you make something your own. When you pause the slide, look up, and teach the students in front of you – not the ones imagined by the person who wrote the PowerPoint.

So write your school’s philosophy. Use it to spark those all-important conversations. But more than anything – trust yourself.

You’re not just delivering content. You’re shaping understanding. And that’s where the real power lies.

And that’s what Tony reckons

Cue the music. Fade to skyline. Roll credits.

Tony’s Angle. See you next time.

P.S. I wrote most of this over the weekend, but this morning I came across a piece of research from MIT that gave me pause. It suggested that students relying solely on ChatGPT to answer questions could see a decline in their critical thinking abilities.

Now, it was a small sample – and we all know research headlines need careful reading – but it echoed a comment I’ve heard before. And it got me thinking…

Are we, in a different way, doing something similar with pre-curated PowerPoints? If we don’t adapt, interrogate, and bring our own thinking to the lesson – do we risk deskilling teachers too?

I don’t have a neat answer. But it’s something to ponder.

Another reason why making the resource your own matters.

Let me tell you something I’ve come to believe with the kind of certainty usually reserved for death, taxes and the knowledge that a Year 7, fresh from primary, will ask whether they should write in pen or pencil – like it’s the biggest decision of their lives.

We talk a lot about attainment and ability in maths. Top sets. Bottom sets. Target grades. Predicted progress. But for me, confidence is the real unlock. Conversely, maths anxiety is a silent thief – sneaking in behind us, nicking potential while we’re too busy trying to get the visualiser to work.

Confidence is the key to success in maths. That’s it. That’s the post. Stop reading if you want.

It doesn’t matter how brilliant your scheme is, how jazzy your resources are, or how many CPD sessions you’ve sat through – if a child believes they’re rubbish at maths, the shutters are down before you’ve had the chance to say “Get ‘us books out!”

Turning ‘I Can’t’ into ‘I’m Getting There’

Back in my teaching days I had a steady stream of students convinced that maths was their sworn enemy.

“I hate maths.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Nothing you say will change my mind.”

And that was just the Year 8s on a good day.

But here’s the truth – they didn’t hate maths. Not really. They hated the feeling of not getting it. Of being behind. Of everyone else seeming to fly while they floundered. Sometimes that lack of confidence came out as behaviour issues. Often it just meant quiet withdrawal.

A Classroom Where You Can Get Things Wrong

So what did I do? Bribes with Haribo? Hypnosis? Brought Pythagoras back from the dead to teach my lessons?

Nope. Just a steady stream of small wins,

I deliberately made my classroom a place where it was fine to get things wrong – encouraged, even. Where struggle wasn’t failure but progress in disguise.

We cheered the “nearly” answers.

High-fived the one mark gained.

Celebrated every, “Wait… I think I’m starting to get this.”

That’s the gold dust. That’s how confidence is built – not in one miracle lesson, but through relentless, ordinary encouragement.

People said I went over the top.

I remember one observation clearly. “They’ve only done the first step – why the over-the-top praise?” the one observing me said.

Because last lesson, that same student wouldn’t write anything down for fear of being wrong. That’s why!

Confidence First

Confidence builds belief.

Belief builds progress.

Progress builds momentum.

And when that train gets moving? Watch out.

Imagine a world – go on, dare to dream – where people don’t say, “I was always terrible at maths” like it’s a charming personality trait.

Or a world where you can go for a curry with a bunch of English teachers without the bill being thrown at you with, “You work it out, you’re the maths one.”

One day, friends. One day.

Confidence isn’t optional. It’s not a nice-to-have. It’s the foundation.

And if we get it right – if every child leaves school believing they can do maths, even when it’s hard – then we won’t just build better mathematicians.

We’ll build a more resilient, capable nation – less likely to panic when the bill comes.

And that’s what Tony reckons.

Until next time.

Let’s talk about something we all quietly know… but don’t talk about enough.

In my opinion, we’re still treating early maths like the warm-up act at a primary school talent show. Meanwhile, phonics for reading is headlining Glastonbury. Spelling walls. Flashcards. Badges. Parent updates. Full-blown rituals.

Picture the Scene

A child walks into Year 1. Let’s call them Terry. Terry has a spark. He’s curious. He’s got a lunchbox covered in dinosaurs and half a banana mashed into his jumper. He’s ready to take on the world!

What doesn’t Terry have? A solid grasp of number.  Terry is one of those children that doesn’t know what the number 5 actually means.

Fast forward, and Terry is now one of the 30% who don’t hit age-related expectations at Key Stage 2. Give it a few more years and boom, Terry’s now more likely to be one of the third who don’t hit a Grade 4 in GCSE maths,

I mean, if this were a TV show, it’d be cancelled after Episode 2. Predictable plot. No twist. Weak ending. Someone told me recently that we might as well install revolving doors at the bottom of the attainment ladder – it’s that predictable.

The Big Question

In my opinion, we are just not doing enough to get early number right.

We know that strong number sense in the early years sets children up for success. It’s not a niche theory. It’s not new. It’s maths’ worst-kept secret.

So what are we doing about it? I mean really doing?

Yes, there are great efforts – brilliant people, good intentions, and a handful of promising projects. But systemically what are we doing?

I was in a school recently and had the chance to watch a phonics lesson. What stood out, as it always does, was the structure. There was consistency. Teachers knew exactly where every child was and what they needed to work on. Some children even wore badges to remind their parents which sounds to practise at home.

Do we really have that same national push – that same ambition – to build confidence with number the way we do for reading?

Maybe I’m missing it. But if it’s out there, it’s hiding better than a capybara in an office.

Getting Systematic

I know many schools now follow a daily number programme. The NCETM, for example, say around 9,000 schools use Mastering Number. But are these programmes being delivered in the same way as phonics? Do they feel as systematic? Do teachers know what each child needs to work on and where the gaps are?

Mastering Number has been running for a few years now. Are we seeing a national shift in the data? I think there are pockets of improvement – some really inspiring examples – but a clear, consistent national picture? I’m not as sure.

I know schools often struggle to find the time to fit something like this in – and that’s completely understandable. So what can be done to help? Let’s provide models of how it can fit alongside their daily maths lessons.  Let’s make sure we provide training and support that when a programme is introduced, it has real impact, an impact that every teacher in the school feels.

The EEF are currently recruiting schools to be part of a trial of such a programme, and I’m sure we’ll learn a lot from that. However this should just be the start.

A Call for Boldness

The Labour Party say they want to get early years “right”. Well, here’s an idea: start with maths. Start with number sense.

Give us something bold. Something joined-up. Something that lasts longer than the average education minister’s tenure.

Just like with phonics for reading, let’s fund structured, impactful programmes in every school.

Supporting Parents

And while we’re at it, let’s provide programmes that support parents, too. They’re an untapped resource in maths. Most want to help, they just often don’t know how. Some are still haunted by their own schooling. They have their own anxiety that needs to be overcome, but we can help them. We need to meet them where they are, with practical tools and support that actually helps.

The Bottom Line

At the heart of this is one simple truth

More children could feel successful in maths and more of them could be successful.

It starts early. It starts small. But it matters. It matters a lot!

Someone once told me that confidence in maths is like the Wi-Fi in a school: invisible, shaky… but absolutely essential if anything’s going to work.

So let’s stop hoping early number just “clicks”. Let’s make it click. With the same ambition we give to phonics – with structure, consistency, joy and investment!

And if we’re not investing in those first experiences with number… then what exactly are we doing?

And that’s what Tony reckons.

Until next time.