The 2025 Schools History Project (SHP) conference was, as ever, a highlight of the teaching year and a stimulus for all sorts of thoughts.
Inevitably, the best workshops at such an event are those
that leave you with more (interesting) questions than answers.
In these two posts (including my last one, on Arthur Chapman’s presentation on stories and narratives), I’m going to try to
formulate some coherent thoughts in relation to two really excellent sessions
in particular, both of which sent me away with a number of very interesting
questions. The second post, here, discusses Claire Holliss’ workshop on stories
at KS5.
Sometimes, new directions in pedagogy develop their own
momentum and give rise to new orthodoxies and (near-)universally accepted
wisdom. When this happens, it’s important to take a step back and evaluate the
evidence to establish how sound that wisdom actually is.
This is what I understood Claire Holliss’ fantastic SHP 2025
workshop to be honing in on.
In her very clear-minded, critical, but open discussion of
using stories at KS5, Claire gave a well-deserved nod towards some very
interesting and valuable work done on integrating stories into classroom
teaching. She then asked how far doing so would actually benefit teaching
History at KS5.
Claire’s work links to an ongoing research project, involving the selection and use of specific stories in her own teaching. This was also of interest to me, as our department has also been starting to develop stories in our own KS5 teaching of Russian and Soviet History (I’ll explore this a bit below).
Like Arthur Chapman’s workshop, I left with a number of very interesting questions which I’d not clearly had in my head before.
- Do stories help students remember important things about the past, and are these actually the things we want them to remember?
- Can we accurately predict what students will take away from the past, and if not, where does that leave us in our teaching?
- How important is it for stories to be enjoyable and interesting, and if it is important, why?
Claire’s own stories were excellent examples of
evidence-based, engaging narratives. It was very clear that, in composing
these, she had a focus on particular “takeaways” for students and on how these
linked to her overarching enquiries on the French Revolution. Nevertheless, she
noted that students so far had sometimes found it difficult to identify the
important information within the stories, which made it “hard work” in the
classroom, at least at first. This also got me thinking about something Arthur
Chapman went on to talk about: a story is, at least in part, constructed by the
audience; the author cannot ultimately know what they will make of and
take away from it.
I’ve recently composed a series of stories, in somewhat
similar vein to Claire’s, to introduce our KS5 Russia enquiries. Each enquiry
question now opens with a different story, the purpose of which is to both
introduce a critical issue to be investigated by the enquiry and to familiarise
them with a significant episode they will encounter in that enquiry again. Claire’s
talk has given me some much-needed pause for thought before we begin teaching
these next year.
Our stories are underpinned by some (very SHP-inspired)
principles. They all revolve around one character (all but one of them a
verifiably real person from the past; the one exception is a hypothetical “provincial
visitor” whose experience is imagined using Orlando Figes’ account of the 1913
Romanov Tercentenary and my own doctoral research on the Siberian city of Krasnoiarsk). They all link explicitly to the enquiry question to be studied,
and are used to help students initially unpack the enquiry question and make
preliminary predictions as to possible answers to it. However, it’s also
important to note that, like Claire’s stories, they make no attempt to “tell
the whole story” of the enquiry; they only serve to reveal a few glimpses to
introduce it. Diversity is built in, through exploring people of different
backgrounds, and each story is linked to a specific “historic environment”, i.e.
a location of specific historical significance.
![]() |
Outline of stories to introduce the first 5 enquiry questions of our course on Tsarist and Communist Russia, 1855-1964, at Year 12. |
All the stories can be accessed here (any errors and mistypes are, as ever, my own), but to give a
flavour, here’s an excerpt from the story from the first enquiry, telling the
imprisonment and execution of Alexander Ulyanov, Lenin’s older brother,
for his part in a failed assassination attempt against Tsar Alexander III in
1887. My intention for this was to grab students’ attention and engage them
from the off with (what I think is) an exciting and true tale, introducing to them
not only an episode that revealed the challenges faced by the Tsars up to 1894,
but also some of their responses to those challenges. Students will, in fact, “bump
into” Alexander Ulyanov’s story again in the subsequent enquiry, although I’ve
never felt up to this point that they’ve appreciated it for what it really
signifies. Hopefully, having seen it once before, they’ll be in a better
position to do so now.
![]() |
The first part of story 1, to introduce the first Enquiry Question. |
On the other hand, having not yet used this, and the other
enquiry question-introducing stories in our teaching, there’s a lot of
guesswork going on as to how they might pan out. Time will tell.
But there are some thoughts which have sharpened somewhat
since Claire’s workshop.
I think stories can help students remember important
details, especially if they are told in engaging ways. On the other hand, we need
to be very focused on what we want students to get from them. In the
case of these stories, I’ve tried to focus them on the enquiry questions,
asking students to consider what they might reveal as possible answers to those
questions before they begin to find out more in future lessons.
However, I think it’s still an open question as to exactly
what students will really take from these stories. Probing questioning and a
focus on the enquiry question itself should, I hope, draw them onto what I
think is “the right path”, but I’m now also more prepared than before to be
surprised.
Alongside all this, the question of how important it is for
stories to be interesting and enjoyable remains. In a very useful CPD session I
was lucky enough to be part of at the end of this year, Christine Counsell
argued passionately that telling good stories can engage students’ attention
better than any other approach. In her words, “stories make promises”. Students’
heightened attention is secured by the prospect of finding out more from the
very beginning.
I’m sure, on one level, that Christine Counsell is right
about this. But while it’s now rather commonplace to argue that stories should
be given centre stage in good History teaching, there is also the thorny question
of getting students at KS5 (and indeed KS4) to pass exams. Having good stories
at KS3 is all well and good, but will the same methods work if we have the
pressure of securing grades for our students further down the line? There’s a
tension here, regardless of what advocates of storytelling might argue. I do
hope, though, that good stories should help motivate and engage students in
learning course content, even if they can’t fill in for the relatively dull but
ultimately essential work of exam skills. I don't think they can replace the important things we're already doing at KS5, but they might well be able to complement and augment them.
At the same time, I’ve also found myself wondering whether
part of the enjoyment of good stories in History is us, the teachers. Writing
these stories was a very interesting challenge. Telling engaging stories in
lessons has always been good fun. It seems to make me more relaxed and
inquisitive as a teacher. It seems to make me a better teacher. Might that, by
itself, be reason enough to do it?
Thanks to Claire, especially, for forcing me back to thinking on these big questions with her wonderful session!
No comments:
Post a Comment