Scaffolding has become a familiar feature of classroom practice. It appears in professional development, lesson planning, and instructional guidance, and in many schools it has begun to replace the language of differentiation, offering a more precise way of thinking about how pupils are supported to learn.

In principle, this is a helpful shift.

Scaffolding is typically understood as a temporary instructional approach, where teachers provide tailored support to help pupils master new concepts or skills, gradually removing that support as independence develops. Rooted in Lev Vygotsky’s idea of the Zone of Proximal Development, it is intended to target the gap between what a learner can do independently and what they can do with guidance.

Scaffolding is not intended to reduce challenge. It is intended to support pupils to engage with it. At its best, it provides temporary structures that make it possible to think about ideas that might otherwise sit just beyond reach.

Used well, scaffolding allows all pupils to work on the same underlying learning, while receiving the support they need to access it. But this is not always what happens in practice.

In many classrooms, scaffolding takes the form of heavily structured tasks, sentence stems that require little adaptation, and models that are copied rather than thoughtfully applied. These approaches can appear to be useful - they reduce confusion and help pupils get started. But they can also have an unintended effect, they reduce the thinking.

Pupils may complete the task successfully, but with little need to explain their reasoning, connect ideas, analyse information or evaluate. The structure begins to do the work for them, carrying the thinking that pupils would otherwise need to do themselves.

Completion replaces thinking.

Rather than supporting access to the same learning, the level of demand is adjusted through the task itself. Some pupils are engaging in extended explanation and reasoning, while others are completing more structured work that requires far less cognitive effort.

At this point, scaffolding becomes difficult to distinguish from differentiation by task.

The language has changed. The underlying approach has not.

The distinction matters. Scaffolding is about supporting pupils to do the same thinking; differentiation by task often changes the thinking itself.

And learning is closely tied to thinking. As cognitive scientist Daniel Willingham argues, what pupils think about is a major determinant of what they remember. Memory is the residue of thought.

If scaffolds remove too much of that thinking, they limit opportunities for learning. Pupils may complete work successfully, but without developing a secure understanding of the underlying idea.

This can also be understood through Cognitive Load Theory. Carefully designed scaffolding can reduce unnecessary cognitive load, freeing up pupils’ attention and working memory to focus on what matters most. For example, a partially completed model can help pupils focus on the reasoning, rather than getting lost in how to start.

But when scaffolds do too much of the thinking, they do not just reduce load; they remove the need for pupils to engage in the thinking that leads to learning.

At the same time, removing scaffolding altogether is not the solution. When all pupils are given the same task without sufficient support, some are able to engage fully, while others struggle to access the learning at all.

This balance is reflected in a broader body of research. Work by Paul Kirschner and Richard Clark highlights that learning is more effective when instruction is carefully guided, rather than left to minimal or loosely structured activity. Explanation, modelling, and well-designed support help to direct pupils’ attention towards what matters, without removing the need to think.

Done well, scaffolding does not remove thinking. It focuses it.

In classrooms where scaffolding is used more effectively, the task remains consistent, but the support is carefully calibrated and responsive to pupils’ needs.

This might involve modelling a high-quality response while making the thinking explicit, re-modelling for a small group or at a slower pace, or providing partial examples that pupils must complete themselves.

It might also involve using prompts that require explanation and justification, rather than allowing pupils to rely on pre-constructed answers, and gradually removing support as understanding becomes more secure.

A useful test is this: does the scaffold require pupils to think, or allow them to avoid thinking?

If it removes the thinking, it isn’t scaffolding,
it’s differentiation in disguise.

References and Further Reading

• Daniel Willingham (2009). Why Don’t Students Like School?

• Paul Kirschner, John Sweller, & Richard Clark (2006). Why Minimal Guidance During Instruction Does Not Work

• John Sweller (1988). Cognitive Load During Problem Solving

• Barak Rosenshine (2012). Principles of Instruction

• Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in Society: The Development of Higher Psychological Processes.

Teachers spend most of their time doing things that are visible. Explaining ideas, modelling processes, asking questions and designing activities. But the most important thing in education cannot be seen at all.

Learning.

It happens quietly inside the learner’s mind, often long after the lesson has finished. This raises a fundamental question: how do we know when children have actually learned something?

This question sits at the heart of research in educational psychology and the learning sciences. Teachers can carefully design lessons and activities, but teaching does not automatically produce learning. Because learning cannot be observed directly, educators must rely on evidence such as changes in understanding, behaviour, and performance to infer whether learning has taken place. As John Hattie argues, learning itself is largely invisible and must be inferred from the evidence that pupils produce.

It is tempting to assume that if something has been taught clearly, it has also been learned. Anyone who has spent time in a classroom knows this is not always true. A teacher may explain an idea carefully, provide examples, and guide pupils through practice. They might regularly check for understanding using hinge questions, mini whiteboards and multiple-choice questions. In the moment, everything appears to make sense. Pupils nod along, answer questions, and complete the activity. Yet when the same idea appears again later, perhaps on a test or in a different context, many pupils struggle.

This gap between teaching and learning has long been recognised by psychologists such as Jean Piaget and Lev Vygotsky. Both argued that learning involves changes in how children think, not simply exposure to information.

Because learning is invisible, teachers must look for signs that it has taken place. These signs rarely come from a single moment. Instead, they appear through patterns of behaviour and understanding over time.

One clear indicator is observing performance. If a child can now do something they could not do before such as solve a problem, read a passage, or explain a concept this suggests learning has occurred. However, performance alone can sometimes be misleading. A pupil might repeat a procedure exactly as it was demonstrated without fully understanding it.

Another powerful indicator is explanation. When children can explain an idea in their own words, they reveal how they are organising that knowledge in their minds. Their explanations show not only what they know, but how they are thinking.

Educational frameworks such as the taxonomy developed by Benjamin Bloom highlight that learning progresses through different levels of cognitive complexity. Pupils may begin by remembering information, but deeper learning occurs when they can explain, apply, analyse, and eventually create new ideas using that knowledge.

Perhaps the strongest sign of learning is transfer, the ability to use knowledge in a new situation.

Imagine a pupil who has learned how to use expanded noun phrases in English lessons and then can apply this learning when visiting the aquarium at the weekend:

“Look, a massive, fierce shark.”

When this happens, it is evidence that knowledge has become flexible. Transfer shows that learning is not simply memorised information but part of a growing system of understanding that can be applied in different contexts.

Another challenge is that learning rarely happens instantly. Understanding often develops gradually through repeated encounters with an idea. A concept that seems confusing one week may suddenly make sense the next. Pupils need time to reflect, revisit, and reorganise what they have heard.

Cognitive scientist Daniel T. Willingham describes learning as the lasting residue of thought, emphasising that what pupils think about and process deeply is what they are most likely to remember.

Research by psychologist Robert A. Bjork also suggests that learning often benefits from what he calls desirable difficulties. Strategies such as spacing practice, retrieving information from memory, and revisiting ideas over time can make learning feel harder in the moment, but they strengthen long-term understanding and retention.

This is why effective teaching rarely relies on a single explanation. Instead, ideas are revisited, explored from different angles, and applied in multiple contexts.

All of this creates a dilemma for teachers. Their work is judged largely by what they do: the lessons they plan, the explanations they give, the activities they organise.

Yet the true goal of teaching lies in something they cannot see directly.

Learning.

Teachers therefore spend much of their time acting like investigators. They observe how pupils respond, listen carefully to their explanations, and design tasks that reveal what pupils really understand. As assessment researcher Dylan Wiliam argues, effective teaching involves continually creating opportunities to elicit evidence of pupils’ thinking so that instruction can be adapted in response.

Recognising the difference between teaching and learning changes how we think about education. It reminds us that a successful lesson is not simply one that is well delivered, but one that produces lasting changes in understanding.

Teaching is visible. Learning is invisible. So, the real work of teaching lies in learning how to see the invisible.

References and Further Reading

Bjork, Robert A., R. A., & Bjork, E. L. (2011). Making Things Hard on Yourself, But in a Good Way: Creating Desirable Difficulties to Enhance Learning. In M. A. Gernsbacher et al. (Eds.), Psychology and the Real World: Essays Illustrating Fundamental Contributions to Society.

Bloom, Benjamin, B. S. (Ed.). (1956). Taxonomy of Educational Objectives: The Classification of Educational Goals. Handbook I: Cognitive Domain. New York: Longmans.

Dunlosky, John, J., Rawson, K. A., Marsh, E. J., Nathan, M. J., & Willingham, Daniel T. (2013). Improving Students’ Learning with Effective Learning Techniques: Promising Directions from Cognitive and Educational Psychology. Psychological Science in the Public Interest.

Hattie, John, J. (2009). Visible Learning: A Synthesis of Over 800 Meta-Analyses Relating to Achievement. Routledge.

Hendrick, Carl & Kirschner, Paul A. (2020). How Learning Happens: Seminal Works in Educational Psychology and What They Mean in Practice. Routledge.

Kirschner, Paul A., P. A., Sweller, John, J., & Clark, R. E. (2006). Why Minimal Guidance During Instruction Does Not Work. Educational Psychologist.

Piaget, Jean, J. (1952). The Origins of Intelligence in Children. International Universities Press.

Vygotsky, Lev, L. S. (1978). Mind in Society: The Development of Higher Psychological Processes. Harvard University Press.

Wiliam, Dylan, D. (2011). Embedded Formative Assessment. Solution Tree Press.

Willingham, Daniel T., D. T. (2009). Why Don’t Students Like School? Jossey-Bass.

What could we do for this lesson?
Could we use practical equipment?
Should we start with a video?
How will pupils record their learning?
Maybe a group discussion would work well here.

None of these questions are unreasonable. Teaching is full of decisions about tasks, explanations, resources and classroom routines. But there is a quiet shift happening in these moments. The conversation moves quickly from curriculum thinking to activity planning.

The two are not the same thing.

A curriculum is fundamentally about knowledge. It is concerned with what pupils should know, understand and be able to do over time. Curriculum theorists such as Michael Young and Johan Muller have long argued that the purpose of curriculum is to give pupils access to powerful knowledge, the concepts and ideas that enable them to understand the world beyond their immediate experience. Writers such as Daisy Christodoulou have similarly emphasised that curriculum thinking must begin with the careful selection and sequencing of knowledge.

Activity planning operates differently. It begins with the question of what pupils might do.

What task might engage them.
What product they might produce.
What structure the lesson might take.

Again, none of this is inherently problematic. Activities are part of teaching and classrooms are full of tasks, discussions, questions and exercises. The difficulty arises when the activity becomes the starting point rather than the outcome of curriculum thinking.

At that point, it becomes harder to answer a deceptively simple question: What knowledge should pupils leave this lesson with?

Sometimes the answer is clear. At other times, less so.

A lesson may feel productive. Pupils may be busy. They may be discussing ideas, producing work or collaborating with one another. The classroom may appear energetic and purposeful. And yet, if we step back, it can be surprisingly difficult to articulate precisely what new knowledge has been secured.

This matters because learning is closely tied to memory. Cognitive science has repeatedly demonstrated that what pupils remember determines what they are able to think with in the future. As Daniel Willingham has argued, memory is not merely a by-product of learning. It is the foundation of it.

If the knowledge at the centre of a lesson is unclear, learning becomes harder to secure.

In many schools, planning meetings naturally drift towards tasks and resources. Teachers share ideas for engaging activities. They discuss which worksheet might work best. They consider how to organise group work or structure discussion. These conversations are familiar and practical, they focus on the immediate realities of the classroom.

Curriculum thinking requires a slightly different starting point.

It asks questions about knowledge and sequence:

What are the key concepts in this unit?
How does this lesson build on what pupils have previously learned?
What misconceptions are likely to emerge?
Which ideas must be secured before moving forward?

When those questions are clear, activity planning becomes easier rather than harder. Teachers can focus on explanation, modelling and practice. They can think carefully about how knowledge should be introduced, modelled and revisited. Activities then serve a clearer purpose within that process, often as opportunities for pupils to practise and apply what they have been taught.

This aligns with the instructional principles described by Barak Rosenshine, which emphasise the importance of careful explanation, modelling, guided practice and checking for understanding.

When knowledge sits clearly at the centre of planning, activities become more purposeful. Tasks are selected because they help pupils grasp a particular idea or practise a specific skill and they are directly linked to what has been modelled and embedded within the Guided Practice. Discussions are designed to surface misconceptions and exercises reinforce knowledge that has been carefully introduced.

The activity is no longer the starting point. Instead, it becomes the vehicle through which the curriculum is realised in the classroom.

Activities matter. Classrooms need tasks, questions, discussion and practice. But they are not the curriculum.

The curriculum is the knowledge pupils build over time. The carefully sequenced ideas that enable them to understand more, remember more and think more deeply.

When planning begins with knowledge, teaching tends to become clearer.

And learning becomes far more likely.

This piece draws on research and scholarship that has shaped my thinking over time, particularly in curriculum theory and cognitive science, including:

Michael Young, M., & Johan Muller, J. (2014). Knowledge and the Future School: Curriculum and Social Justice.

Christodoulou, D. (2014). Seven Myths About Education.

Willingham, D. (2009). Why Don’t Students Like School?

Rosenshine, B. (2012). Principles of Instruction: Research-Based Strategies That All Teachers Should Know.

PowerPoint has become the default delivery mechanism of teaching. Somewhere along the way, however, the slide deck stopped supporting pedagogy and started standing in for it. That is where problems begin.

Slides are not inherently problematic. They can provide structure, clarity and visual support. They can help sequence content and ensure key information is shared consistently. The difficulty arises when the slide deck becomes the lesson itself, when pacing is determined by the number of slides rather than by pupils’ understanding, when teachers read from the screen rather than explain from expertise, and when answers appear fully formed instead of being constructed live. At that point, presentation risks replacing pedagogy.

From a cognitive science perspective, over-designed slides can easily increase extraneous cognitive load. When pupils are required to read dense text while simultaneously listening to teacher explanation, they must divide attention between two competing sources of information. Cognitive load theory, developed by John Sweller, reminds us that working memory is limited. When we overload it with unnecessary information, learning suffers. Long paragraphs, excessive animations, decorative images and duplicated spoken text may feel thorough, but they can make processing harder rather than easier.

Clear explanation is not about displaying more information. It is about selecting the most relevant material, presenting it in manageable steps, and deliberately repeating and reinforcing what matters. This aligns strongly with the principles of instruction articulated by Barak Rosenshine, particularly the emphasis on small steps, modelling and checking for understanding. It also reflects Peps McCrea’s argument that learning improves when we reduce avoidable complexity and direct attention precisely where it matters. A slide cannot decide what is most important in the moment. A teacher can.

One of the most powerful elements of expert teaching is live modelling. When teachers construct an answer in real time, thinking aloud as they do so, pupils see the process of expertise. They see how decisions are made, how errors are corrected and how knowledge is organised. This deliberate, live modelling, rather than relying solely on pre-prepared answers on a slide, makes thinking visible and supports the gradual release approach described by Rosenshine and echoed widely in instructional guidance literature. When the model answer is already written on the screen, the process is hidden. Pupils see the finished product but not the thinking that produced it. Over time, that distinction matters.

There is also a subtle leadership issue here. Slide decks create the appearance of structure. They give lessons a visible arc and can reassure observers that objectives are clear and tasks are sequenced. However, structure on a screen does not guarantee structure in thinking.

Responsive teaching, as consistently emphasised by Dylan Wiliam in his work on formative assessment, depends on teachers seeing what pupils understand and adjusting accordingly. If the next slide advances regardless of misunderstanding, the technology has started to dictate the rhythm of learning. Pupils do not learn in PowerPoint increments. They learn when explanation, questioning, guided practice and feedback are carefully calibrated to their understanding.

This is not an argument against technology. PowerPoint can be extremely useful. It can support retrieval practice, display diagrams and worked examples, reduce teacher cognitive load when used thoughtfully and provide visual anchors for complex ideas. The issue is not the tool. It is over-reliance on the tool. When slide design becomes a proxy for lesson quality, we risk valuing polish over precision.

There is a deeper question for school leaders. When we observe lessons, are we paying more attention to the quality of the slides or to the quality of the explanation? Have we inadvertently trained teachers to perfect their presentation rather than refine their modelling, questioning and feedback? In some schools, significant time is spent standardising slide templates, fonts and formats, while far less time is spent rehearsing explanation, practising questioning sequences or refining live modelling. That imbalance is worth examining.

At its heart, teaching is relational, intellectual and responsive work. It involves reading the room, noticing confusion, adjusting explanation and insisting on clarity. It requires judgement, flexibility and expertise enacted in real time. No slide deck, however elegant, can do that.

PowerPoint is a tool. Pedagogy is the craft of helping pupils think. And the most important thing in the room is not the screen. It is the teacher.

______________

This piece draws on research and scholarship that has shaped my thinking over time, particularly in cognitive science and instructional practice, including:

Sweller, J. (1988). Cognitive Load During Problem Solving: Effects on Learning. Cognitive Science.
Sweller, J., Ayres, P., & Kalyuga, S. (2011). Cognitive Load Theory. Springer.

Rosenshine, B. (2012). Principles of Instruction: Research-Based Strategies That All Teachers Should Know. American Educator.

Wiliam, D. (2011). Embedded Formative Assessment. Solution Tree.

McCrea, P. (2018). Lean Lesson Planning. High Impact Teaching.

Bjork, R., & Bjork, E. (2011). Making Things Hard on Yourself, But in a Good Way: Creating Desirable Difficulties to Enhance Learning.

A new framework.
A new programme.
A new strategy with a compelling name.

But what if the real driver of improvement is much simpler and much harder than that?

What if improvement depends less on what we introduce and more on what teachers do every lesson?

After years working in schools across different contexts and countries, spanning middle leadership, senior leadership, headship, and a multi academy trust curriculum improvement role, I have increasingly come to believe that sustainable improvement rarely comes from what we introduce. It comes from what teachers do, consistently, every day.

When classrooms improve, it is usually because a small number of powerful habits become embedded. Habits that are grounded in research, but lived through practice.

Here are five classroom habits that improve learning more than almost any initiative.

1. Clear Explanations

Pupils learn more when teachers break ideas into manageable steps, think aloud, and show worked examples before asking pupils to practise independently. Effective explanations focus only on the most relevant, essential information rather than everything a teacher knows, with key points emphasised and repeated to secure understanding. Reducing cognitive overload is critical, particularly when introducing new or complex material, principles strongly supported by the work of Barak Rosenshine and cognitive load theory developed by John Sweller.

Why it matters: many initiatives fail not because the ideas are weak, but because explanations across classrooms remain inconsistent.

2. Checking for Understanding Constantly

Not just “Does that make sense?” (this is a real bugbear of mine!) but deliberate, visible checking:

Cold calling
Mini whiteboards
Hinge questions
Retrieval prompts
Observing pupil work in real time

Responsive teaching depends on teachers seeing what pupils are thinking while learning is happening, something consistently emphasised in formative assessment research by Dylan Wiliam.

Why it matters: learning gaps emerge quickly when misunderstanding goes unnoticed.

3. Guided practice with explicit modelling before independence

Expert teachers rarely move too fast. They practise together with pupils first, scaffold carefully, and only then release responsibility. Feedback is immediate and adjustments are made in the moment. This includes high quality, deliberate, live modelling during the lesson itself, not relying solely on pre written answers on a screen. Teachers demonstrate thinking, decision making, and problem solving in real time so pupils can see how expertise works.

This gradual release approach again aligns with Rosenshine’s principles of instruction and broader research on expert teaching.

Why it matters: premature independence is one of the most common causes of pupil struggle.

4. High Participation and Thinking Ratio

Strong classrooms maximise the proportion of pupils actively thinking, not just behaving. This includes frequent questioning, structured discussion, and opportunities for every pupil to respond. Classroom participation techniques have been explored extensively in instructional practice research and popularised in applied work by Doug Lemov.

Why it matters: learning requires cognitive effort, not simply task completion or compliance.

5. Retrieval and Review as Routine

Learning strengthens when knowledge is revisited frequently through low stakes quizzes, recall activities, and connections to prior learning. Memory is not a by product of learning, it is the foundation of it. Decades of cognitive psychology research on retrieval practice from scholars such as Robert Bjork and Henry Roediger make this clear.

Why it matters: without retrieval, knowledge fades surprisingly quickly.

The Leadership Reality

The leadership lesson behind all of this is simple, but profound.

Schools do not improve because we add initiatives.

Schools improve when these habits become normal.
And normal means visible, practised, and expected in every classroom.

That shift does not happen through policy documents or training days alone. It happens through culture, coaching, modelling, and sustained attention over time. It happens when leaders prioritise depth over novelty and consistency over complexity.

One of the most powerful levers leaders have is instructional coaching. Not evaluation, not compliance, but deliberate practice focused on small, high impact behaviours. When teachers receive frequent feedback, see strong models, and have opportunities to rehearse and refine their practice, habits change. And when habits change at scale, schools improve. This is where leadership influence is at its greatest — not in launching initiatives, but in shaping daily practice.

In other words, improvement is less about what we start and more about what we sustain.

The question for leaders is not “What programme should we introduce next?”

It is:

Which habits matter most — and how do we help them become part of everyday practice?

Because the schools that improve the most are rarely the ones doing the most.

They are the ones doing the right things, consistently.

Subscribe now