The fierce power of the past on philosophy and policy

My next uni task is to talk about my workplace's philosophy and policies in terms of its social history.

Hmm. Here I am, keeping a journal as a blog because hello, it's an electronic age, and being asked to talk about my workplace. Yet I've just had a bollicking for doing just that on my other blog from an employer (now an ex-employer). So let's start with talking about that particular 'philosophy' as an example, shall we?

At the moment, I'm told, that director is rewriting the workplace policies to prevent staff from blogging about work at all. Now, we all know that as professionals we never reveal confidential or identifying information- that would indeed be a hanging offence- but where does banning blogging which has respected those boundaries come in? Free interchange of information is the way the world is going, and ECE is already a huge part of that online interchange. Blogging ECTs all over the world are sharing stories of their experiences. I would class myself as particularly discreet in comparison with some of them (and my readers agree).

So, is all the fuss to do with the social history of this particular workplace?

It's church-run. Perhaps the church's influence suggests a certain conservatism, but they tend not to interfere with the actual running of the place (to their credit). 

I guess the centre serves a demographic where the parents can afford to sue. That probably makes the director a little nervous. But in the absence of identifying information, I'm afraid I don't see the problem, and neither does my friend with legal experience. 

 

It aspires to be a state-of-the-art centre. It's located in a well-off area, where the parents have a lot of technology at home. The centre has whizz-bang technology at every turn. I'd have expected progressive attitudes to use of the internet, reflected in policy and philosophy, in that social context.

But no; it's the attitudes of the director that have made the difference, I fear. You're only as whizz-bang as the person in charge, and so we'll have to look at her 'social history'. Someone who comes from an older generation, with many years of experience in centres running on old principles, who doesn't understand the positive power of blogging to create change in practice, who feels fearful and threatened by the openness of the internet, will tend to hold the centre back from being a truly functional part of the C21st.  And some of my readings for this course have suggested that, indeed, new curriculum is often held back by attitudes from the past; staff are indoctrinated to do things a certain way, and in the face of change they tend to cling to the familiar. 

So the distinction between a staff member sharing anecdotes from work with people at the pub (who no doubt know where one works and may know the families at the centre) and sharing anecdotes from work with colleagues who have a professional interest, anonymously, on a medium as huge as the internet may well be lost on those who cling to old attitudes. Social history kicks an own goal on that one. Internet stories are a more functional way of achieving active behavioural change in philosophy and practice than handing out copies of the EYLF to all staff.

Enough of that centre. Let's look at the social history of a contrasting centre, makeshift, ancient, tiny. It serves an old indigenous mission community and the locals of a small town.  The town has been a centre of racial unrest for many, many years. White people fight with black people, black people from one mob fight with black people from another mob. Alcohol and substance abuse is rife. Many children have developmental delay issues as a result. Also within the demographic are the children of highly respected indigenous elders, local townsfolk, graziers and farmers, many as bright as buttons.

The text of Kevin Rudd's apology is still posted in the window of a local shop. The country's past is a powerful influence on this town.

The childcare facility responds with high flexibility. The unspoken working philosophy is 'whatever works is right for today'. Sure, there's a sun-smart policy, but if an aboriginal child needs to be outside in the middle of the day because being inside is making him or her stir-crazy, then out they go. 

Cultural awareness is a high priority. Attendance policies are flexible.  Recognising the different understandings of time and priority between the cultures, the centre keeps places open for absent indigenous children for months at a time. Payment options are very flexible; the attitude is one of understanding rather than impatience.

Documentation policy has a relatively low priority. The children's safety and wellbeing requires constant supervision, as reflected in a high staff-child ratio, and taking your eyes off the children for long enough to write a learning story is generally impossible. 

What happens at this centre is unmistakably real and grounding; staff go home thinking not about how they best fulfilled policy and philosophy, but whether they met the needs of these individual children today and how they can do it better tomorrow. To some extent, the high demands of the demographic transcend policy in the presence of caring and capable staff.

The atmospheres in these two centres couldn't be more different. In one, there's a high awareness that one should follow policies and regulations to the letter and a low awareness of the true policy implications of embracing technological progress. In the other, the philosophy of flexibility leads the way and the social context makes technology all but irrelevant and policy implementation labile by necessity.

Social history has an impact, yes, but in some cases it's the social history of the centre- in others the social history of the people in power. Both are fierce forces upon policy and philosophy.