Children in care could go to the best schools – but they hardly ever do. Why is the system failing them?
Dan is 11. This month he started at secondary school. He lives on the poorer side of town and his carers are sending him to the high school round the corner. It's in special measures and is undersubscribed, with results that are nothing to write home about. But Dan doesn't know that.
Dan has been in local authority care since he was a tot. As a looked-after child, Dan could have gone to any local authority school he chose. Children in care have had the "highest priority" in admissions since 1998. It's an entitlement the government insists it is preserving, but critics warn that it will be undermined by the greater control academies and free schools are being given over pupil entry.
Even as it stands now, "highest priority" hasn't got many of these vulnerable children into outstanding schools. England's 64,500 looked-after children, some of the most fragile in society, are paradoxically still far more likely to go to failing schools than their peers, as revealed by Department for Education figures.
A total of 16% of children in care, compared to 10% of their peers, go to the lowest-attaining primary schools, according to the DfE's new data tool for local authorities. At age 11, 10% go on to secondaries where fewer than 35% of pupils get five good GCSEs including maths and English, compared to 6% of all children.
Once there, many of them flounder. Last year, 49% of looked-after teenagers failed to get five GCSEs, compared to 7% of all pupils. While the situation is improving, the Adolescent and Children's Trust (Tact) estimates that it will take this fragile group 50 years to match the average achievements of other 16-year-olds. At age 18, the statistics are just as gloomy. Only 7% of looked-after young people make it to university, compared to 40% of their peers.
The admissions battle may have been won on paper, but not yet in reality, says Kevin Williams, chief executive of Tact. And it won't be won until foster carers and social workers develop the aspirations of "sharp-elbowed" middle-class parents.
What Dan needs is a stable placement with carers who believe in education. "They must focus on education from day one. It's never too early to start talking to children about going to university," says Sonia Jackson, emeritus professor of social studies and education at the Institute of Education, London.
Sue Hains shares Jackson's aspirations. Head of Cambridgeshire's virtual school, Hains and her team of 15 teachers oversee the education of the county's 650 looked-after three- to 18-year-olds. These virtual "schools" – organisation tools, rather than buildings filled with pupils – were promoted by the last government. The pilots were evaluated positively in 2009, and they were praised for their valuable role.
Despite this, Hains returned to work this month with only half her team, courtesy of public-sector cuts. She is making the best of it, talking of working smarter and refocusing. But her teachers will have less time for face-to-face meetings with their vulnerable pupils. They'll have to prioritise the children who are struggling and keep their fingers crossed for the rest.
Such cutbacks anger Jackson, one of the team who evaluated the virtual school pilots in 2009. "Almost everything this government has done shows that it is completely unaware of the needs of looked-after children, indeed of all disadvantaged children," says Jackson.
Clout matters when it comes to school admissions – an area where Michael Gove's education bill, currently going through parliament, is loosening up the rules. Looked-after children like Dan may remain top of the admissions list, still entitled to go to any school they wish. But the reality, says Hains, will be different.
"Increasing schools' autonomy over admissions will make life more complicated. Instead of dealing with one person in the authority, we're going to have to deal with each individual head. Some schools are cagey now when we're trying to place a difficult child. It can only get worse."
Already sacrificed is the looked-after children's personal education allowance (PEA), worth £500 a year, which was abolished in March. Many authorities used it to pay for "extras" such as school trips, music lessons and one-to-one tuition. Such extras are vital, says Hains, whose team also monitors out-of-school activities. What looked-after children do on Saturdays matters as much as what they do on Mondays if they are to have a chance of leading a fulfilling life.
Peter Doyle, head of Lancashire's virtual school, says he is lucky in that his county voted to keep paying the PEA. Elsewhere, he worries that the new pupil premium will not bridge the gap. As heads try to balance frozen budgets in the face of rising costs, he says, it risks being swallowed up in the general school pot – or used to promote academic achievement in the era of the English baccalaureate – rather than being spent on disadvantaged youngsters.
Barnardo's and Tact also fear that the education bill, in giving heads more power over exclusions, will be to the detriment of looked-after children, who are already nine times more likely to be excluded, according to Tact's response to the bill.
Ultimately, says Jackson, it's in heads' interests to throw out children who are disruptive or underperforming. If the bill gives heads more authority, they are more likely to do so. "They won't if they're a good person, but you aren't necessarily a good person just because you are a successful head. We're going to be going backwards to the era of Thatcher, with more homelessness, more beggars on the streets, more school exclusions."
Dan is 11. This month he started at secondary school. He lives on the poorer side of town and his carers are sending him to the high school round the corner. It's in special measures and is undersubscribed, with results that are nothing to write home about. But Dan doesn't know that.
Dan has been in local authority care since he was a tot. As a looked-after child, Dan could have gone to any local authority school he chose. Children in care have had the "highest priority" in admissions since 1998. It's an entitlement the government insists it is preserving, but critics warn that it will be undermined by the greater control academies and free schools are being given over pupil entry.
Even as it stands now, "highest priority" hasn't got many of these vulnerable children into outstanding schools. England's 64,500 looked-after children, some of the most fragile in society, are paradoxically still far more likely to go to failing schools than their peers, as revealed by Department for Education figures.
A total of 16% of children in care, compared to 10% of their peers, go to the lowest-attaining primary schools, according to the DfE's new data tool for local authorities. At age 11, 10% go on to secondaries where fewer than 35% of pupils get five good GCSEs including maths and English, compared to 6% of all children.
Once there, many of them flounder. Last year, 49% of looked-after teenagers failed to get five GCSEs, compared to 7% of all pupils. While the situation is improving, the Adolescent and Children's Trust (Tact) estimates that it will take this fragile group 50 years to match the average achievements of other 16-year-olds. At age 18, the statistics are just as gloomy. Only 7% of looked-after young people make it to university, compared to 40% of their peers.
The admissions battle may have been won on paper, but not yet in reality, says Kevin Williams, chief executive of Tact. And it won't be won until foster carers and social workers develop the aspirations of "sharp-elbowed" middle-class parents.
What Dan needs is a stable placement with carers who believe in education. "They must focus on education from day one. It's never too early to start talking to children about going to university," says Sonia Jackson, emeritus professor of social studies and education at the Institute of Education, London.
Sue Hains shares Jackson's aspirations. Head of Cambridgeshire's virtual school, Hains and her team of 15 teachers oversee the education of the county's 650 looked-after three- to 18-year-olds. These virtual "schools" – organisation tools, rather than buildings filled with pupils – were promoted by the last government. The pilots were evaluated positively in 2009, and they were praised for their valuable role.
Despite this, Hains returned to work this month with only half her team, courtesy of public-sector cuts. She is making the best of it, talking of working smarter and refocusing. But her teachers will have less time for face-to-face meetings with their vulnerable pupils. They'll have to prioritise the children who are struggling and keep their fingers crossed for the rest.
Such cutbacks anger Jackson, one of the team who evaluated the virtual school pilots in 2009. "Almost everything this government has done shows that it is completely unaware of the needs of looked-after children, indeed of all disadvantaged children," says Jackson.
Clout matters when it comes to school admissions – an area where Michael Gove's education bill, currently going through parliament, is loosening up the rules. Looked-after children like Dan may remain top of the admissions list, still entitled to go to any school they wish. But the reality, says Hains, will be different.
"Increasing schools' autonomy over admissions will make life more complicated. Instead of dealing with one person in the authority, we're going to have to deal with each individual head. Some schools are cagey now when we're trying to place a difficult child. It can only get worse."
Already sacrificed is the looked-after children's personal education allowance (PEA), worth £500 a year, which was abolished in March. Many authorities used it to pay for "extras" such as school trips, music lessons and one-to-one tuition. Such extras are vital, says Hains, whose team also monitors out-of-school activities. What looked-after children do on Saturdays matters as much as what they do on Mondays if they are to have a chance of leading a fulfilling life.
Peter Doyle, head of Lancashire's virtual school, says he is lucky in that his county voted to keep paying the PEA. Elsewhere, he worries that the new pupil premium will not bridge the gap. As heads try to balance frozen budgets in the face of rising costs, he says, it risks being swallowed up in the general school pot – or used to promote academic achievement in the era of the English baccalaureate – rather than being spent on disadvantaged youngsters.
Barnardo's and Tact also fear that the education bill, in giving heads more power over exclusions, will be to the detriment of looked-after children, who are already nine times more likely to be excluded, according to Tact's response to the bill.
Ultimately, says Jackson, it's in heads' interests to throw out children who are disruptive or underperforming. If the bill gives heads more authority, they are more likely to do so. "They won't if they're a good person, but you aren't necessarily a good person just because you are a successful head. We're going to be going backwards to the era of Thatcher, with more homelessness, more beggars on the streets, more school exclusions."
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