Save yourself some pain and know what league you play in

Why do people compete knowing they’ll never win a medal?

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There is some excitement and trepidation in Paris at the moment with the approaching Olympics. But my family will be giving a big swerve to Paris this year on the annual expedition to my mother-in-law: our usual hotel’s prices are 20 times more than last summer.

I’ll still be watching on the television, though, craving interviews with the athletes who don’t come close to winning. I’ve always been more fascinated by them than the multiple-medal-winning swimmers and cyclists.

Why do some people compete, knowing they’ll never win a medal? I presume they do the same training (more or less) and have the same habits (more or less):

Knowing what to eat.

Knowing how to exercise.

Knowing how to rest.

Finding the right coach or mentor.

And yet 60% of countries in any one Games won’t win a medal.

A third have never won a medal.

And only once — in 1960 — did a majority of countries win something.

So are all these countries, destined for failure, merely making up the numbers? Or is there a bigger thing going here around feeling represented as an equal on a global stage?

It got me thinking about where schools see themselves in the big scale of things. Particularly the ‘good ones’, or those who think they are.

There are schools who might easily identify themselves as Phelps-like ‘Olympic-level good’. They have the history, the reputation, the heritage of success, the right numbers. They’re nearly all hugely expensive private schools. There are a few state schools punching well above their weight who’re in there, too.

Every one of them knows which league they play in. And knowing this gives them significant confidence in knowing what they’re good at and what to focus on developing hard, each day.

But what if you’re not one of these Olympic-level schools? And what if you’re not at that level but you focus on trying to be like them? Do you just end up in the same dejected non-medalist position, forgotten in the years to come?

Well, no.

If you know which league you play in, you won’t care too much about what’s happening in the Olympic-level schools. Their budgets, context and geography will be less relevant to you. Trying to be an Olympic-level champ when you’re still working out the rudiments of your local league is going to be tough work. And people might stare.

But the approach of the Olympic-level schools should interest you.

When we look at a selection of leading schools, we might come to this conclusion: they all do the basics incredibly well, and then have a singular focus for which they are famous.

Every Olympic-level school does a large core of stuff really well. “The stuff all good schools do well” is a large box, filled with learning, teaching, equity and diversity work, good facilities, balanced curriculum and stunning sports, music, performing arts and extra-curricular activities. It’s all basic routine for them, with systems that mean this work ticks along and develops without too much drama.

You might say that academic success for students in these schools is a given, as a result of this excellent routine work.

Besides this large pool of ‘basic’ work. every top-level schools does one thing really well. They’re known for it.

Eton College and Phillips Exeter Academy have their traditions of oracy, reached through very different methodologies.

Singapore’s Raffles Institution promotes its leadership and talent development, while Gordonstoun in the north of Scotland focusses on a heady mix of character development, expeditionary and outdoor learning.

Avenues arguably takes the lead on interdisciplinary learning — for now.

High Tech High has been a reference for Project-Based and Personalised Learning for two decades.

The singular focus helps on two fronts: it gives a clear north star about what the school won’t do, while providing its community with a clear signal on what they’re getting.

But before you look at their specialism, they all do the things good schools do well. Really well.

So there are three sets of questions you might consider to work out what your singular focus is, and if you should pursue one at all just now:

Firstly, do you know you’re doing the stuff good schools do well, well? What’s your evidence? What do you know you need to work on even more? There’s always something. This ‘basics’ work should include anything you believe should be part of the normal day-to-day in your school.

So a deep understanding of curriculum co-design, equity and inclusion approaches and policies, creative ideas on highlighting and harnessing the diversity of your community, learning and teaching approaches that push and support students, depending on where they’re at… All basic. If the work required to get that ship-shape and into predictable routine work is significant, then you might stop right there. No more big ambitions, no more focussed bold ambitions: just get the basics absolutely routine.

Secondly, are you already stand-out for something? Do your own insiders think you stand out for one thing in particular? Does your desired community know what you stand out for and make a diversion to take their kids to your school?

Finally, do both your current community and desired community both care about the thing you stand out for?

If you got to the last question, congratulations. Most schools lack the data to answer any of the second batch of questions. Just knowing that puts you head and shoulders above the average.

But the first question is tough because it’s all about defining what league you’re currently in. If you’re not already answering that question confidently then it’s going to be tough to win the pole position in any league you might be in.

If you’ve not got that broad pool of basics totally nailed it’s highly unlikely you’ve got the capacity to create a singular bold ambition — and probably quite demoralising for the team involved to try and build one.

What would you gain from the attempt? Is it worth spending the money, the opportunity cost of other competitions, the cost to your family, to your life, to your mental health, by going for a medal you’re not going to win — not yet? Or, is it worth looking at the league you’re in and seeing if you could win Gold, consistently enough to be spotted and lifted up into the next league?

But to answer the question of whether that stand-out thing is something your people genuinely care about, you may need to step out and simply ask them.