The federal government's My School web site is a mistake. Rather than steer, lever even, poorly performing schools to deliver better outcomes for their students, the My School web site hides -- no, it exacerbates-- the problem.
School by school, the release of basic skills data to parents is a good thing, although it is not a new thing. But releasing information in a way that invites crude comparisons between schools is counterproductive.
The day following the launch of the web site, Sydney's metropolitan daily papers produced comparative tables. The Sydney Morning Herald went a step too far by devising its own crude average of the basic skills data, a single score for each school which it used to rank every primary school and every secondary school across the state.
Later that day, commercial television crews skulked around the perimeters of the schools that had come last on the Herald's list. Staff, by now overfilled with despair, steeled themselves for evening news bulletins. Students, becoming aware of the consequences of being tagged -- no, branded with a sign saying ``worst in the state'' , looked to the ground embarrassed, not entirely sure what they had done wrong, but suspecting it is was something pretty serious; and that punishment would follow.
And so the next stage of federal education minister Julia Gillard's education revolution was launched.
But this revolution was proving perverse. By the weekend, front pages exalted the achievements of the most privileged, heralding new bounties for society's haves. But for the have nots, there was more punishment, more public disgrace, more blame, more calls for better use of meagre resources; and more looking down and away.
By Monday, I had re-processed the Herald's crude high school averages, removing country schools, to show a league table for Sydney alone.
The geography of our city jumped from my spreadsheet. Of Sydney's top 20 high schools, 17 are government schools, but overwhelmingly of the selective breed.
But then, government schools fill only 15 of the next 80 positions. Here we see one high-fees private school after another, the educational investment of Sydney's golden age, society's new segregation, the evidence that a better future for your child can indeed be bought by substantial private dollars.
Then my list shows a huge lump of schools with barely any statistical difference between their scores; ranked lists are always like this, be they cricketers' batting averages, humans' heights or politicians' IQs. The lump does nothing to sort the bulk of Sydney's schools; the stable suburban high schools and the modest-fees private schools such as your ordinary Catholic, Anglican, Christian and Islamic schools, are all there, one indistinguishable statistically from another.
And then my list shows the tail: the suburbs that fall to the bottom of every tabloid list.
Were you surprised when you saw the tail, Ms Gillard? Do you think that our education officials fell about in amazement? Do you think principals and staff were shocked at the news?
The crude list reveals nothing more than the geography of a city that is increasingly divided on the basis of wealth and resources. It certainly shows that the way we are dividing and funding and managing the education of our children is both inefficient and unjust.
Cleverly, though, the ranked list shifts attention away from these inefficiencies and injustices. The list stares down the neediest, blames them and shames them. A perverse revolution indeed.
Phillip O'Neill is Professor and Director, Urban Research Centre, The University of Western Sydney
Email a friend
Favourites
Del.icio.us
Facebook
Digg
StumbleUpon
MySpace
Reddit
Newsvine
LinkedIn
Kwoff
Twitter