Evening classes are not only for middle-aged learners. Liam White
visited a specialist college that offers children as young as six a
chance to take formal exams in IT, Maths and English
In the middle of an industrial estate outside Watford, something
extraordinary is happening. Children as young as six are passing
GCSEs in IT, and others as young as nine are passing A-levels after
studying at Ryde College, an independent evening class school.
Set up by Ron Ryde in 1982, the school isn't actually a school
in the fullest sense - it only teaches IT, Maths and English, which
it hopes the pupils will attain GCSEs in as early as possible.
Despite IT being the core subject, and even the most basic
courses feature some elements of programming, Ryde College isn't a
centre for prodigies.
"I think when children go to secondary school they're treading
water for three to four years and then - suddenly - put under
tremendous pressure for the last two," explains Ryde.
"Why hold children back all that time? In any other academic
situation, you don't take all your exams at once. Almost all
degrees, for instance, are modular now."
Ryde has a philosophy on the merits of teaching these subjects
earlier but, to sum it up crudely, he says if children of average
ability can gain qualifications from an early age, why shouldn't
they?
"Children can take subjects at an earlier age with relatively
little pressure," explains Ryde. "Imagine if they could carry that
on throughout their time in education. Setting goals all the way
through keeps them interested."
A lot of Ryde's thinking stems from some fairly basic
observations. His parents were from Poland, and as a child he
noticed that they never lost their accents.
"They always spoke with this broken accent," he says, "And yet I
didn't."
Ryde has grandchildren who live in Switzerland and speak several
languages fluently.
"Now that wouldn't be the case if they'd lived in all those
places when they were 10 years older," he says. "The education
system is responsible for holding back these children."
But Ryde's view is controversial. Most education professionals
view such early learning as harmful, and likely to damage later
development. Opposition to formal tests for seven-year-olds is
increasing.
While many better-off parents join waiting lists for classes at
which toddlers are played classical music and encouraged to play
with simple instruments, some educationalists are outraged.
"Some people think it can harm children later on to be taught
too early. In Scandinavia, I don't think children start school
until six or seven.
"If early starts hold children back later on, why have primary
education at all?"
Ryde may have a lot of ideas about education, but he has many
more questions than answers about the way things are.
"We all have experiences and memories of school, not all of them
nice," he says. "I don't really see why streams, which are common
within the school years, don't mix ages. Now, I wouldn't suggest
you start putting children together purely on grounds of ability,
but there's a lot to be said for mixed-up classes."
Part of school, so the thinking goes, is learning about social
behaviour and learning to deal with different ages within a peer
group. Putting some children of high ability together regardless of
age might not be harmful, if it wasn't just one clever child at the
back of the class because they've jumped a year. Ryde believes the
natural range in ability should be a reason for mixing kids up,
rather then keeping them in separate groups. "I think it's
perfectly possible that more harm could be done socially by putting
children in single-sex schools."
By any measure, this is fairly radical stuff, but Ryde has a lot
of considered arguments. "Nothing has changed, fundamentally, in
education for about 500 years. Not since the invention of the
school. You sit in a class and you listen. The computer, at least,
should have changed all of that. Religion and science have changed
more than education. People seem to regard education as somehow
divine, and not to be messed around with."
Primary ability
Ryde goes on to talk about how established educational thought
has children unable to grasp abstract concepts until they're
beginning to turn into adults. Yet he has seven-year-olds writing
routines with nested loops.
"I think that teaching programming to children this young helps
them learn to think in different ways. They're learning how to
learn - especially about how to get homework done, to take
responsibility for it, to behave. NOw the PC makes this learning
process more manageable. And I think teaching programming to
children helps them tp delvelop confidence and stimulates their
intelligence. In maths, you need to stop and learn new rules all
the time. Once you have the basics in programming you're away."
Ryde insists that his approach doesn't mean kids have to study
all the time instead of being out and about toturing slugs and
doing other normal childhood activities.
"This isn't just a philosophical argument. If, in the last
century, the industrial revolution was about natural resources and
putting them to use, then this revolution we're in now is about
making use of our mental resources."
Ryde may not hold much regard for established educational
thinking, but he senses that the tide in educational thought might
be moving his way. "The education secretary David Blunkett is
saying now that some children are able to take some exams at 10 or
11. We think it should be most children who can take an exam by
then. Of course it would mean radically altering methods - the
current set-up of home at 3.30 and breaks all over the place would
have to go.
"It's nice to know he's got some time for some of this, but
obviously, we can't just have a revolution. What we advocate would
have to be started as an experiment."
Ryde is definitely a revolutionary but since education is
managed by politicians who seem more interested in the
administrative side of the system than how it should actually work,
maybe it's time for another wide-ranging debate on how children are
taught.