Profile: Nathan Cain
Doctoral student who was once written off by his head teacher as a 'problem' child - and is now studying whether head teachers' values can be realised in their day-to-day roles
Nathan Cain grew up in Bury and Manchester, and is a part-time doctoral student with the Faculty – having already completed PGCE and Masters courses here. As a child, he had undiagnosed disabilities, which led to him being marked out by his own head teacher as a ‘problem’ child. Fifteen years later, his research focuses on trying to find out what head teachers really value – and whether that is truly expressed in the roles they have to perform in schools.
When I was about 13, my head teacher told me that I was ‘factory fodder’
As a child, I had undiagnosed autism and ADHD. I was always seen as someone who was smart, but easily distracted. That persisted at my high school – which was notorious for being one of the worst in my area.
I was put in a group of ‘problem’ children who had to go to see the head every week for extra tuition. When I was about 13, she told us that we were ‘factory fodder’ who ‘wouldn’t get anywhere in life’. I didn’t even know what factory fodder was, but I got the gist, because I mentioned it to my Mum, who was furious! Personally, I was just apathetic about it. I was predicted to get fewer than three GCSEs and I just acknowledged that I wasn’t going to achieve very much.
I originally thought about studying Law, but my first love was music
In the end I got 13 GCSEs – not three – and went to the local sixth form College to study Law, English, and Psychology. A term in, I realised that wasn’t what I actually wanted to do. I loved music and decided to do a BTEC in that instead. My family were really supportive; their view was: “Do what makes you happy, not what you think makes us happy.”
After my A-Levels I went to the London College of Music and lived in London for a few years, working as a session musician. But I supplemented my income by teaching, and I realised that I loved it. In particular, I really enjoyed the dialogue between a teacher and a student and the philosophy of teaching. I found myself thinking: ‘If I can’t explain an idea clearly so that they can understand it, do I understand it enough myself?’ All of this pointed me towards doing a PGCE.
The thing that really persuaded me to study at Cambridge was being rejected first time around
I got accepted on to every training course I applied for – except Cambridge. When I asked for feedback, the tutors said they could see that I knew about the key concepts involved, but that I needed to show that I could go deeper and engage with them more critically.
That persuaded me that Cambridge was the place to go. I got the feeling most institutions were accepting me for acceptance’s sake; but here were people who saw I could grow and improve and wouldn't accept me until I was ready. I was also reading a lot of research by people connected with the Faculty, and wanted to study where they worked. I carried on teaching, worked on the points the interviewers had raised, and the next year, I got a place on the music PGCE.
Head teachers develop a narrative for themselves that is almost consequentialist. They end up seeing numbers and not people: not because they want to, but because they feel that they have to
The PGCE persuaded me to do more research about head teachers and their beliefs
The PGCE gave me a real range of perspectives on education: they squeezed just about as much as you can into one year! Most importantly, it taught me about the theoretical side of teaching, how to question what you’re doing so that you make good decisions and choices, and how to do research alongside teaching, be reflexive, and reflective, which I found amazingly important.
As part of my research for the PGCE, I interviewed a head teacher at a local school. He kept prefacing his answers with phrases like: ‘As a head teacher’, ‘As an invigilator’, ‘As an OFSTED inspector’, and so on. It was like he couldn’t answer the question without putting on one of those hats. I wanted to ask: ‘But what about you? What do you think?’
This made me think about the way my own head teacher had treated me: was it because of who she was, or because of the role she was expected to play? That question, of how far head teachers’ values and beliefs are, or can be, expressed through their job, has not really been researched in detail. But it’s critical: after other teachers, they are the group who typically have the greatest impact on student outcomes. I decided that I wanted to find out more. A year after completing the PGCE, I applied to do a Masters.
My research looks at the relationship between what head teachers have to do, and what they value
I did the Masters part-time, and am now undertaking part-time doctoral studies. By the end of the Masters I felt that I wanted to strengthen the evidence I was getting and dig deeper, which is why I’ve kept on going.
I started by asking what educational outcomes head teachers themselves value, and what the ideal student should, in their view, look like by the time they leave the school. Their jobs are defined so much by ever-changing metrics and demands that they don’t really have chance to bring these values to bear on their schools. They focus on grades and statistical measures because their job demands it, but they often regret missed opportunities to influence the qualitative outcomes of education, like building up pupils’ resilience, wellbeing or their sense of autonomy.
A fascinating example came up when, as part of my research, I went back to my old school – now under new leadership – to speak to the head. She talked about needing constantly to weigh up tough choices: for example, whether to spend a limited budget on a new Special Needs Coordinator, or redecorating buildings where paint has peeled off the walls. The fact that those trade-offs are constantly occurring means that head teachers develop a narrative for themselves that is almost consequentialist. They end up seeing numbers and not people: not because they want to, but because they feel that they have to.
There’s clearly a mismatch between what head teachers value and what the system expects, so the natural question is, can the two work more closely together? I hope that eventually, my research will offer some pointers about how those competing aims can be unified.
Looking back, my own head teacher wasn't bad at her job; she was just trying to survive. And if that’s true, the obvious question a researcher asks next is, how can we make that situation better?
My diagnosis as a person with disabilities only really happened after I started my research
As an undergraduate I was diagnosed with dyspraxia, but it was only while doing the PGCE at Cambridge that I asked my doctor to be referred for more tests. The waiting list is so long that it took three and half years to be diagnosed with autism!
I was awaiting my diagnosis while studying for my Masters, but my supervisor, Lottie Hoare, knew what was happening and made sure that steps were taken to help. I got extra tutorial time and lots of guidance and information about additional support. What mattered most was that from an academic standpoint nobody ever treated me differently, the attitude was very much one of just making sure that I had the mental wheel ramp I needed to engage fully with the course.
In the long run, my early experience with head teachers gave me a desire to find out how things can improve
Looking back, I think the way I was treated by my head teacher was because she was so ground down that she didn’t have time to consider students like me as anything other than a problem. Learning to think more deeply about teaching is what gave me that insight. She wasn’t a bad head teacher; she was just trying to survive. And if that’s true, the obvious question a researcher asks next is, how can we make that situation better?
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