From the Head of Junior School

When Education Changes: Keeping Children at the Centre

Over the past fortnight, I have found myself reflecting on a number of stories about education that, on the surface, seem quite unrelated.

There has been discussion about whether aspects of NAPLAN should return to pen and paper. There has been considerable debate about the future of take-home examinations and assessments in NSW, particularly as schools grapple with the impact of artificial intelligence. There are renewed questions about handwriting, screen time, digital learning and what constitutes authentic evidence of student learning.

Each of these conversations is important. But for me, they point towards a much bigger question: What do students need to learn, and how do they best do this learning?

I think it is worth remembering that education is fundamentally cultural and contextual. Schools do not exist in isolation from the society around them. They are shaped by the expectations, technologies, values, opportunities and challenges of their time.

The classroom of 2026 should not look exactly like the classroom of 1996. Nor should it look exactly like the classroom of 2036.

Our children live in a world of smartphones, artificial intelligence, instantaneous information, digital communication and unprecedented access to knowledge. It would be irresponsible for schools to ignore this reality. Equally, it would be irresponsible to assume that everything that comes with technological progress automatically makes learning better.

This is where I think the role of the teacher becomes increasingly important.

Teachers are often the people closest to the actual experience of learning. They see the moment when a child suddenly understands something. They recognise when a student is using technology to extend their thinking and when they are using it to avoid thinking. They know when a child needs another explanation, another conversation, another attempt or simply more time.

Crucially, they also know that sometimes the most powerful learning happens without a device.

There is something different about a child writing by hand, wrestling with an idea, crossing something out and trying again. There is something powerful about a class having a conversation where students have to listen, respond and formulate their own thoughts. There is value in reading deeply, memorising something important, performing, drawing, building, experimenting and making mistakes.

None of this means that technology is the enemy.

Quite the opposite.

I think our responsibility is to become better at knowing when technology enhances learning and when it gets in the way of it.

The current conversation about artificial intelligence provides a good example. We cannot simply tell young people that AI does not exist or that they should never use it. That is not preparing them for the world they will enter. AI will be part of almost every profession our students eventually enter, and their ability to work intelligently alongside technology will be an important capability.

But we also need to ensure that students develop the capacity to think without it.

If a student cannot formulate an argument without AI, write a sustained piece of work without AI, solve a problem without AI or explain their thinking without AI, then we have a much bigger educational issue than whether they have technically "cheated".

The challenge is therefore not simply to detect AI. It is to design learning environments where thinking is visible.

This is where I become slightly cautious when I see rapid changes in educational policy.

Governance has an important role in education. We need systems that establish standards, protect children, provide accountability and create consistency. But governance can also be reactive. A problem emerges, concerns grow, the media responds and policy follows.

Schools experience something different.

Schools experience the complexity of children every day.

We see the child who writes beautifully on a computer but struggles to form letters. We see the child who can find an answer instantly online but cannot explain why it is correct. We see the student who produces extraordinary work with technology and another who becomes completely overwhelmed by it. We see the benefits and the unintended consequences.

That experience matters.

As educators, I believe we have a responsibility not simply to implement every new direction, but to participate in the conversation about what good education looks like.

That requires teachers to be adaptable, curious and willing to change. But it also requires us to be confident enough to say, "This works for our students, and here is why."

Perhaps this is one of the most important responsibilities of contemporary school leadership: creating the conditions where teachers can make those professional judgements.

We should not be frightened of change. But neither should we chase change simply because it is new.

There is a temptation in education to swing between extremes. We move from books to screens, from handwriting to typing, from teacher-directed learning to student-directed learning, from examinations to projects and then back again. Sometimes we mistake movement for progress.

Real progress is more considered than that.

It asks us to look at the evidence, understand our students and our community, listen to teachers and then make deliberate choices.

The current debate about NAPLAN and assessment provides an opportunity to do exactly that. Rather than asking whether education should be "digital" or "traditional", perhaps we should ask a much better question:

What kind of learning culture do we want to create for our children?

I want that culture to be one in which children are curious and capable. Where they are comfortable using technology but are not dependent upon it. Where they can collaborate but can also think independently. Where they can access information but also know how to question it. Where they can use AI as a tool without allowing it to replace their own judgement, creativity and voice.

And perhaps most importantly, I want us to remember that education is about people.

Policies will change. Assessment models will change. Technologies will change. Governments will change their positions. The devices in our classrooms will look very different in ten years' time.

But the fundamental work of education remains remarkably consistent.

A teacher knowing a child.

A child feeling that they belong.

A student being challenged to think.

A mistake being turned into an opportunity to learn.

A teacher recognising potential before the student can see it themselves.

A strong partnership between the School and the family. 

These things are not old-fashioned. They are foundational.

As we navigate the rapid changes occurring around us, I hope we can resist the temptation to ask simply, "What is the latest direction?" Instead, we should continually ask, "What serves children best?"

That is the conversation worth having.

And it is a conversation in which teachers need to have a strong voice.

Christopher Sanders

Head of Junior School