Education – The Conversation

Curious kids: how old is fire on Earth?

2026-01-29T12:36:51Z

Please can I ask how old is fire on earth, not tamed by people but since when has there been fire and flames on the planet.

Samuel, 5, London

You ask a very interesting question. For many years, scientists assumed that fire and humans were so connected that few of them gave any thought to what happened to fire before humans evolved.

Even now, after many years of research, you won’t find much information in books about ancient fire. Indeed, I first started to become interested in this question of fire in the geological past more than 50 years ago, but my work was largely ignored until recently.

Curious Kids is a series by The Conversation that gives children the chance to have their questions about the world answered by experts. If you have a question you’d like an expert to answer, send it to curiouskids@theconversation.com and make sure you include the asker’s first name, age and town or city. We won’t be able to answer every question, but we’ll do our very best.

Your question is important today as the Earth’s weather is changing quickly and we are seeing deadly wildfires around the world. Humans may have used fire for a long time but they have never been able to tame fire. The challenge for scientists at the moment is to work out which fires are caused by humans and which ones are natural. To do this, we need to understand ancient fire in the first place.

A lot of our knowledge comes from studies of charcoal found in rocks more than 350 million years old, in a period geologists call the Carboniferous Period. As I say in my book Burning Planet: The Story of Fire Through Time, charcoal preserves the detail of different parts of the plant charcoal is made from. If you visit a place where there was a recent fire that burned a lot of plants, or collect some charcoal from the remains of a bonfire and look at it under a magnifying glass you may be able to see some of this amazing detail.

Over many years I, together with my students at Royal Holloway University of London, have been collecting information on ancient charcoal to help us understand fires of the past.

The key to understanding when fire appeared on Earth comes from what we call the fire triangle and I have discussed this in my small book Fire: A Very Short Introduction.

The first side of the triangle is fuel. Fire needs plants to burn. So we would not expect to have fire on the Earth before plants evolved. Plants first lived in the sea and started to spread on to the land around 420 million years ago. So there couldn’t have been fire before then.

The second side is heat – we need heat or a spark to start the fire – and that in the ancient past would be lightning. There has always been lightning and we can see evidence of this from fused sand grains found in some ancient sediments.

Finally, we need oxygen to allow the burning process to happen, the same way we need oxygen to breathe. We know this from simple ways we might put out a fire. You can cover the flames to stop oxygen or use sand, water or other materials to cut off the oxygen from the fire. Today the air we breathe has 21% oxygen. But experiments have shown that if you reduce the level to below 17% fires will not spread.

And above 30% it would be hard to put out a fire as even wet plants can burn with that level of oxygen. That is also why no fire or smoking is allowed in hospitals where there is oxygen used for the patients.

The level of oxygen in the Earth’s air has changed a lot over time. Scientists have shown that around 350-250 million years ago was a time of high levels of oxygen between 23 and 30% in the atmosphere and a lot of fire.

Evidence of the first fires was around 420 million years ago from charcoal in sedimentary rocks. But plants were small and there weren’t many places on Earth where they could grow. That meant there weren’t many places fire could burn. It was not until around 350 million years ago that fires started burning in lots of places and burnt in some of the first forests to grow on Earth.

Another time period of high fire was between 140 and 65 million years ago when many of our famous dinosaurs such as triceratops and tyrannosaurus were living and also when flowers first appeared. Around 40 million years ago oxygen levels in the atmosphere stabilised to modern levels. Proper tropical rain forest spread widely. This probably made fire rarer as wet rain forests don’t catch alight easily.

But around 7 million years ago grasslands spread, and these were easily burned. The grass-fire cycle began. This is where regular fire kills the saplings of trees, stopping grasslands turning into forests.

It is into this fiery world that humans evolved around 1.5 million years ago.

This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

Andrew Scott has previously received funding from the Natural Environment Research Council and the Leverhulme Trust.

Another kind of student debt is entrenching inequality

2026-01-28T18:23:29Z

Friends Stock/Shutterstock

In November 2012, during my first year as a PhD student, a 23-year-old medical student knocked on my door. Earlier that day, we had been discussing our ages in our shared kitchen. At 30, I had stayed silent, feeling a sharp sting of embarrassment next to my 20-something housemates.

But this student was determined to get an answer from me. He shoved his passport in my face and demanded to see mine. When I admitted my age, he laughed and said: “Wow, you’re so old.”

In that moment, I felt a deep sense of shame and failure. But after a decade of research tracking more than 100 young people, I want to tell my younger self: you weren’t failing. You simply hadn’t inherited the same amount of time as your peer.

My work with students in China shows that social inequality isn’t just about money or status. It’s also about time inheritance.

I started my PhD at 30 only after spending five years working to clear my family’s debts and move my parents out of a house where sewage regularly flooded their floors. My housemate, whose father and grandfather were doctors and Cambridge alumni, had inherited “banked time” – a cushion of security that allowed him to glide straight to the academic starting line.

Banked time v borrowed time

To make sense of this, I distinguish between two kinds of time inheritance.

Some young people receive banked time. They start life with a “full tank”: parents who can afford to support them through unpaid internships, gap years, or an extra degree, and the freedom to change course or repeat a year without financial ruin. This creates a sense of temporal security that allows them to take measured risks, explore their interests, and wait for the best opportunities to arise. They have “slack” in the system that actually generates more time in the long run.

Others live on borrowed time. They start with an “empty tank,” already owing years of labour to their families before they even begin. Because their education often relies on the extreme sacrifices of parents or the missed opportunities of siblings, these students carry a heavy debt-paying mentality.

A delay in earning feels dangerous because it isn’t just a personal setback; it is a failure to repay a moral and economic debt to those who supported them. This pressure works in two punishing ways.

Some make “self-sabotaging” choices by picking lower-tier degrees or precarious jobs just because they offer immediate income. Others find their education takes far longer as they are forced to pause their studies to work and save, trapped in a cycle of paying off “time interest” before they can finally begin their own lives.

Take Jiao, a brilliant student from a poor rural family in China. He scored high enough to enter one of the country’s top two universities: Peking or Tsinghua, the equivalent of Oxford or Cambridge. Yet he chose a second-tier university.

He felt he could not afford the “time cost” of the mandatory military training that was required at the elite universities at the time he was applying. This would have delayed his ability to earn money and support his parents. On paper, this looks like a self-sabotaging decision. In reality, it was a survival strategy shaped by time poverty: he simply did not have months to spare.

In contrast, Yi, born into a comfortable Beijing family, dropped out of university after just one year because she didn’t like the teaching. She didn’t see this as a failure, but as “cutting her losses”. With her parents’ backing, she quickly applied to an elite university in Australia. Yi had inherited banked time, which gave her the security to try again.

Both students were capable. What differed was how much time they could afford to lose.

Lost learning

Although my research focuses on China, these temporal mechanisms are not culturally unique. They show up in different forms in other countries.

We saw this during post-pandemic debates about “lost learning”. In the UK, for example, tutoring programmes and extra school hours were offered as fixes. But these only work if pupils have the spare time to use them.

For those already caring for siblings or parents, working part-time or commuting long distances, the extra provision can become another burden: deepening, rather than reducing, time debt.

In universities, the cost-of-living crisis has pushed more students into long hours of paid work during term. They get through their degrees, but at a price: less time to build networks, take internships or simply think about their next steps.

Rigid career “windows” also matter. Age-limited grants, early-career schemes that expire a few years after graduation and expectations of a seamless CV all act as a time tax on those who took longer to reach the starting line. They might have been caring for relatives, changing country, or working to stay afloat.

Making education fairer means being aware of this time disparity. This could mean designing catch-up and tutoring schemes around the actual schedules of working and caring students, not an idealised timetable.

Within academia, extending age and career-stage limits on scholarships, fellowships and early-career posts would mean that those who started “late” are not permanently penalised. And more recognition of the burden of unpaid care and emotional labour in both universities and workplaces would be a valuable step.

Ultimately, doing well in education is not just about how we spend our time. It is about who is allowed to have time in the first place, and who is quietly starting the race already in debt.

Dr Cora Lingling Xu receives funding from the Cambridge International Trust, the Sociological Review Foundation, the ESRC Social Science Festival,the British Academy and various grants from Queens' College Cambridge, Cambridge University, Keele University and Durham University.

Too many students drop out of A-levels – here’s how to help them pick a course they’ll stick with

2026-01-27T16:34:13Z

Dmytro Zinkevych/Shutterstock

You can probably remember at least one education choice you regret. You don’t have to be lazy or naive to pick the wrong subject, just lacking in information about what you will actually have to study on the course.

In England, this problem is concentrated at age 16. Young people are expected to choose a small set of subjects – three or four A-levels, or just one T-level, for example – that will shape not just their next two years but potentially how they succeed in the future.

In theory, there is lots of support: open evenings, prospectuses, taster sessions, careers platforms, guidance interviews. Yet disengagement and drop-out remain familiar features of post-16 education. One reason is that the system often treats course choice as a question of career opportunity, while leaving something oddly under-discussed: the curriculum itself.

That matters because students aren’t just choosing “qualifications”. They are choosing to spend hundreds of hours studying – reading, writing, experimenting, analysing – and then to be assessed in particular ways.

In a recently published study, I analysed an unusual dataset: what students thought about the A-level courses they were taking before they began them, and then, later, how well they did in those courses.

The study followed 191 students in a school sixth form who completed 674 questionnaires across 24 A-level subjects. The questionnaires were based on the specific curriculum topics and assessment practices that students would need to engage with on the courses offered in that sixth form.

The questionnaires asked how interested the teenagers would be in studying DNA, including what it is and how it works for A-level biology, for instance, or how much they’d enjoy learning about the management and conservation of coastlines for A-level geography. The questionnaires also asked how they viewed courses in relation to their future career aspirations and progression to university.

Across the subjects with enough data, students who reported higher interest in the content of a course were significantly more likely to complete their courses. But whether a student thought an A-level was valued by future employers, or that would help their progression to university, appeared less likely to affect their chances of completing the course.

This doesn’t mean careers don’t matter to course choice, but it does suggest career aspirations may not be enough to keep students motivated through the weekly pressures of course study.

Schools and colleges go to great lengths to provide guidance. But more information is not the same as meaningful engagement with what a course involves. Previous research suggests students often don’t rely on the course information they’re given to make decisions.

Choice overload

Linked to this is what psychologists call choice overload. Although we value having options, more choice can increase anxiety, reduce satisfaction and encourage us to take shortcuts when making decisions. It’s one reason students simplify decisions by picking subjects they think they know from GCSE, or those their friends are taking.

And for young people from backgrounds affected by disadvantage, choices can narrow towards what seems most likely to lead to employment, even where other interests exist.

Choice overload can affect decision-making. gonzagon/Shutterstock

And there’s another layer too: the environment of choice is shaped by competition. Research has shown that sixth forms are using open evenings just as much to market themselves to students as to provide information on what their courses cover.

For instance, in the competitive post-16 marketplace, a school may feel it is risky to recruitment efforts to dwell on the reality that their A-level history focuses on religion in the Tudor period rather than the saucier intrigues of the royal court. “Selling” and “informing” don’t always align.

Education policy implicitly assumes young people are to treat post-16 choices as an optimisation problem: maximise exchange value, keep doors open, choose strategically. This can reduce study to a trade-off: endure now, benefit later. For some learners, that works.

For many, it doesn’t, especially when their attention is already being pulled in multiple directions and when anxiety about their future is high.

But interest in what they are actually studying should not get lost. Interest sustains attention and effort. If we don’t know students’ levels of interest in course content to begin with, it becomes difficult to tell whether later underperformance reflects a poor fit between student and course, or limitations in how teaching and assessment are supporting that engagement.

Curriculum-first guidance is needed, making curriculum and assessment visible early and central to sixth forms and colleges’ offers to students. This should be at the heart of how they support teenagers making choices about their post-16 education.

There’s an additional benefit. If curriculum-specific interests can be measured reliably, this could help schools and colleges evaluate mismatches between course provision, the learners’ interests, and outcomes, creating a new way of thinking about “quality” in post-16 education.

It’s not only about who drops out, or whether GCSE results predict how well students do, but whether sixth forms and colleges are building on students’ intrinsic interests in curriculum disciplines.

It may not be impossible to avoid all regrets about choices in education. But if we start by asking learners what knowledge they would enjoy engaging with and acquiring over the next two years, we may go a long way in reducing those course choice doubts and improving the odds that their motivation survives the first difficult term.

Nigel Newton does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

How political leanings affect views on academic freedom – new research

2026-01-26T17:12:05Z

Gorodenkoff/Shutterstock

Academic freedom is often described as a cornerstone of democratic society. Politicians regularly claim to defend it, universities invoke it in mission statements and most members of the public say they support it in principle.

So why does it provoke such intense disagreement once it becomes concrete? At first glance, these disputes look like arguments about universities. But our research suggests something else is going on. Public disagreements over academic freedom are not simply about campus policy. They reflect deeper divides over political ideology and trust in expertise.

Debates about academic freedom have become increasingly prominent in the UK. New free speech legislation to protect academic freedom in universities was introduced in 2025. Disputes over offensive research, controversial speakers or international partnerships routinely make headlines.

Similar tensions exist elsewhere, even if they are less visible. In Japan, for example, academic freedom is formally protected in article 23 of the constitution, but scholars often report subtle pressures to avoid politically sensitive topics.

In a new study, we surveyed over 3,300 people in the UK and Japan to examine how citizens understand academic freedom when it is presented in concrete terms rather than abstract slogans.

Instead of asking whether people support “academic freedom” in general, we asked how much they agreed or disagreed with specific scenarios. These included whether universities should protect research that causes offence, and whether academics should be free to publish controversial findings. We also asked whether universities should collaborate with multinational corporations or political regimes accused of human rights abuses.

This approach matters. In surveys, people often express strong support for free inquiry in the abstract. But once academic freedom is tied to real-world trade-offs, such as offence, harm, reputation or political controversy, agreement tends to fracture.

Across both countries, political ideology emerged as one of the strongest predictors of attitudes toward academic freedom.

Right-leaning respondents were consistently more supportive of academic freedom. They were more likely to oppose restrictions on offensive research and more likely to agree that academics should be protected even when their work provokes controversy. This pattern appeared not only in the UK, where universities are deeply entangled in culture-war debates, but also in Japan, where such disputes are less visible in public life.

Left-leaning respondents, by contrast, were more likely to emphasise accountability. They tended to support limits on research perceived as offensive or harmful, reflecting greater concern for social sensitivity and the potential impact of academic work on marginalised groups.

These differences suggest that academic freedom is not a single, universally understood value. Instead, people interpret it through broader political worldviews. For some, it primarily means freedom from interference. For others, it is inseparable from social responsibility.

Trust in scientists matters

Trust also plays a crucial role. In both countries, people who trusted scientists more strongly were more likely to support academic freedom, particularly when asked whether researchers should be protected regardless of whether their findings cause offence.

Trust appears to act as a kind of permission structure. When people believe scientists are acting in good faith, they are more willing to tolerate controversial outcomes.

Levels of trust in scientists affects views on academic freedom. YAKOBCHUK VIACHESLAV/Shutterstock

This effect was especially pronounced in Japan. There, trust in scientists was one of the strongest predictors of support for academic freedom across multiple scenarios. This likely reflects Japan’s institutional culture. Deference to expertise remains relatively high and political conflict over universities is more muted than in the UK.

In Britain, by contrast, trust in scientists mattered most when academic freedom was framed as protection for individual researchers, but less so when questions involved partnerships with controversial regimes. In those cases, trust was more conditional. This suggests that even trusted experts are expected to exercise judgement about ethical boundaries.

Taken together, these findings point to a deeper pattern. Public attitudes toward academic freedom are structured by two competing logics.

One emphasises autonomy. This is the idea that scholars must be insulated from political and social pressure in order to pursue knowledge freely. The other emphasises accountability: the belief that universities, as publicly funded institutions, should be responsive to social norms and moral concerns.

Most people do not fully embrace one logic or the other. Instead, they shift between them depending on the issue at hand. Many support free research in principle but draw lines when offence, ethics or international politics enter the picture.

This helps explain why debates over academic freedom so often feel polarised and unresolved. They are not simply disputes about policy details. They are disagreements about which values should take priority when liberal principles collide.

These findings have important implications.

First, they suggest that appeals to “academic freedom” alone are unlikely to persuade sceptics. Because people understand the concept differently, arguments that assume a shared meaning often talk past their audience.

Second, they highlight the importance of trust. Where confidence in scientists and universities is high, support for academic autonomy is more resilient. Where trust erodes, demands for oversight and restriction grow stronger.

Finally, disputes over academic freedom reflect broader tensions within democratic societies between liberty and accountability. These tensions are not new, but they are becoming more visible as universities sit at the centre of political and cultural change.

Rather than asking whether academic freedom is under threat, a better question may be this: how can institutions sustain public trust while defending the autonomy that makes academic inquiry possible in the first place?

Steven David Pickering received funding from the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (JSPS, grant reference JPJSJRP 20211704) and the UK Research and Innovation's Economic and Social Research Council (UKRI-ESRC, grant reference ES/W011913/1).

Yosuke Sunahara receives funding from Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (grant reference JPJSJRP 20211704.

Martin Ejnar Hansen does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The House of Lords has voted to stop under 16s using social media – what happens now?

2026-01-22T17:54:30Z

The House of Lords, October 2025. © House of Lords 2025/Annabel Moeller/Flickr

The House of Lords has voted, by a significant margin of 261 to 150, to prevent children under 16 in the UK from using social media platforms.

There has been growing political interest in introducing a ban after a similar change came into effect in Australia in late 2025. Around 60 Labour MPs have signed a letter publicly calling for the prime minister to act, while the matter was also raised at prime minister’s questions by the Conservative party leader Kemi Badenoch.

This latest vote in the Lords on January 21 will add momentum to these calls. But how significant is the vote, and how likely is it to ultimately be passed into law?

Wednesday’s vote in the Lords took place on an amendment – that is, a proposed change – put forward to the government’s Children’s Wellbeing and Schools Bill by cross-party peers led by Conservative former minister Lord Nash.

While government ministers opposed Nash’s proposal, and whipped Labour members of the Lords to vote against it, the chamber as a whole opted to back the amendment – producing what is referred to as a government defeat.

Unlike some other votes in parliament, which may be considered non-binding, votes on legislation can present a bigger headache for the government. This is because, if the text in this amendment remained in the bill when it completed its passage and received royal assent, it would become legally binding.

The Lords’ amendment to the Children’s Wellbeing and Schools Bill would ban social media accounts for under-16s. Dejan Dundjerski/Shutterstock

Yet government defeats in the Lords are not unusual, and not necessarily a sign of major trouble. During the 2019-24 parliament, the then Conservative governments suffered over 400 defeats in the Lords – most of them also on amendments to government legislation. Since 2024, under Labour, the number is already well over 100. One reason for this is that, in contrast to the Commons, no party has a majority of seats in the Lords. This means that, if opposition peers are united, governing parties can often be outvoted.

Both Houses must usually agree to a bill in identical form before it can be passed into law. Once both chambers have considered this bill, it will therefore begin a process known as “ping pong”’ – whereby it moves back and forth between the two Houses until all disagreements have been resolved. While in principle the Lords could insist repeatedly on this amendment, it is in practice rare for peers to dig in for long. Members of the Lords often describe their role as being to ask the Commons to “think again”.

The most important actors here are therefore not in the Lords – but MPs in the Commons.

Labour backbench MPs will be key

When the bill later returns to the Commons for the first ping pong stage, MPs will have three options on this amendment: to accept the Lords’ position, reject it outright, or propose an alternative form of words.

The government has a large majority in the Commons, and it is very likely to be able to use this position to get its way on this amendment. Early indications are that ministers intend to ask MPs to reject the amendment. This would effectively delete the proposal from the bill and then send the issue back to the Lords for further consideration.

Yet the prospect of a Commons vote does nonetheless create a problem for the government. This is an issue on which there is known to be widespread disquiet on the Labour benches – almost certainly extending beyond the 60-odd MPs who signed the public letter. Some of these may be reluctant to back down without some sort of concession.

While the government is very unlikely to be defeated in the Commons, this is not necessarily the point. Even the prospect of public dissent can be highly embarrassing, risking perceptions of a divided party unable to command the support of its own backbenchers while also eroding goodwill.

It is for this reason that government ministers are likely to adopt a conciliatory tone when the bill returns to the Commons. It is very unlikely they will accept the Lords amendment outright, but it is possible they may be willing to adopt a compromise form of words – a dynamic that is relatively common in response to Lords defeats.

But it is perhaps even more likely that MPs may be swayed by firm non-legislative commitments by ministers on future action they will take. Indeed, the government has already promised a rapid consultation – announced earlier this week – and this may provide many Labour MPs with the cover they need to back down for now. Others may use the threat of this vote to try to push ministers further, for example by seeking commitments on how the outcome of the consultation will be taken forward.

Taken together, it is very unlikely that the vote in the Lords this week will prove to be the end of the story on this issue. It is quite possible that, by the time the government has finished guiding this bill onto the statute book, this amendment will have been entirely removed. But it may nonetheless have served a large part of its intended purpose by putting pressure on ministers to act.

Daniel Gover does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Why the establishment of a national school for civil servants matters

2026-01-22T11:25:31Z

Public administration has never been the glitziest or most immediately attractive discipline to study. With this in mind, the government’s announcement that it intends to establish a new National School of Government and Public Services (NSGPS) – in-house training for civil servants – is easily overlooked as little more than administrative tinkering in a world beset by uncertainty and turbulence.

And yet to see this announcement as little more than peripheral politics would be wrong: it matters. Since the previous National School of Government was abolished in 2012 (and the Civil Service College abolished in 1995), the UK has struggled to ensure that its public service professional development and support structures are fit for the future.

This is necessary if the UK is to build an inclusive economy, deliver its industrial strategy, deal with its “productivity puzzle”, and manage those issues that now sit within the UK’s National Risk Register (such as the threat from extreme weather events). More generally, if it is to escape the dominant “broken Britain” doom-loop narrative, then it needs to radically rethink how it supports politicians and officials across different governments and at all levels of the UK to govern effectively. This is why the creation of a NSGPS matters.

The slight concern is the UK government’s plan to move quickly. A promise to “move fast and fix things” – as made in chief secretary to the prime minister Darren Jones’ speech introducing the measure – is only a good approach once you are clear what actually needs to be put in place to fix the problem. In some ways the creation of a new NSGPS is too important to rush, and a more moderated design and delivery plan is possibly needed.

Five questions could help take this discussion forward.

1. What does success look like?

The creation of an internationally recognised centre of excellence for training, supporting and nurturing politicians and public servants across the UK in an inclusive and positive manner that is responsive to changes in context, society and technology.

It’s important to learn from past successes. Summit Art Creations/Shutterstock

Critically, it should offer a capacity to identify and learn from successful public policies across the UK, and from different countries in the world. As Pat McFadden argued when he was chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster in December 2024, public services needs to get better at learning from “things that have gone right”.

2. What does it need?

Stability. If the NSGPS is to flourish and thrive then it cannot be established based on short-term funding guarantees. Ideally it needs an endowment-based model of funding which is managed by an independent trust to facilitate innovation and flexibility. The churn and change that has defined reform in this area cannot continue. It’s a total waste of money.

3. What structure might it adopt?

A flexible one. Not a large country house but a hub-and-spoke model where different providers (universities, consultancies, professional associations) provide a patchwork of services which range from one-to-one mentorship and support right through to action-based learning opportunities and crucible-type initiatives that bring people from different specialisms together.

The Australian and New Zealand School of Government can provide information and inspiration but a bold and ambitious approach in the UK might look to go even further, especially as lots of relevant investments have already been funded.

4. What’s the USP?

Simple – the NSGPS must facilitate mobility. That is, the mobility of people, knowledge and talent across traditional professional, organisation, geographical and sectoral boundaries.

The “public services” dimension of the NSGPS signals a massive opportunity to connect and catalyse with leadership support structures in many sectors (local government, NHS, regional mayors). It cannot be focused on the civil service and must deliver policy learning by building relationships.

5. Where’s the pinch?

Culture. Any minister who is announcing a bold new training initiative for the civil service is almost bound to concede that they will work with the civil service to change the system. However, this creates an obvious risk in the sense that continuity may end up defeating the need for change. Social scientists have for some time recognised the disruptive value of “cultural strangers” – radical new thinking – and a NSGPS must somehow inject a degree of criticality and challenge.

The minister’s announcement that the NSGPS would be “a new centre for world class learning and development within the Cabinet Office” arguably jarred with the broader emphasis on innovation, connectivity and change. Where is the evidence from previous initiatives that the Cabinet Office possesses the capacity to facilitate the mobility of people, ideas and knowledge?

Despite these hurdles, thought, the government’s commitment to establish a new NSGPS matters because dangerous populist narratives are based on claims of governing incompetence. Public trust in political institutions and political processes are at worrying low levels.

Investing in the professional support systems that will help enable politicians and public servants at all levels of government to deliver on their commitments is long overdue. It provides an opportunity to focus not on specific issues or problems, but on systemic improvement and systems leadership based on the realities of working in a quasi-federal, multi-level governance system.

Rebecca Riley receives funding from ESRC as Principle Investigator on the Local Policy Innovation Partnership Strategic Hub . She is affiliated with the Labour Party.

Ian C Elliott and Matthew Flinders do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

What’s at stake in special educational needs reform

2026-01-21T17:28:07Z

Media_Photos/Shutterstock

A campaign – backed by celebrities including actress Sally Phillips and broadcaster Chris Packham as well as MPs – is calling on the government not to scrap or reduce education, health and care plans (EHCPs).

These provide legally binding extra support for children with special educational needs. There are fears that this will be a change outlined in a forthcoming policy paper on schools.

The pressure point for the government is how much it costs. At the moment, EHCP costs come from local authority budgets, which are too low to cover them. A significant rise in EHCPs meant that councils are racking up a cumulative deficit in the billions. From 2028, these costs will be managed by the central government budget.

Mainstream schools in England currently provide what’s called “universal provision”. This is standard support for all pupils, funded by the Department for Education.

If a child needs extra help, schools must offer targeted interventions and resources to remove barriers to learning. This comes from a local authority managed notional special educational needs budget of up to £6,000 per pupil.

If progress still isn’t happening, families can request an EHCP. This unlocks additional funding from (currently) the local authority. It can be used to pay for specialist teaching, equipment, or extra staff, or for alternative provision – education in a specialist school.

Not enough money and bureaucratic delays

The system has been in real need of reform for a good while now.

Waiting times for EHCP assessments are often painfully long. Some families say they feel treated as though they are an inconvenience. Many are fighting legal battles for support: if an EHCP is denied, this can be appealed at a tribunal, where parents are usually successful.

Without the right resources in schools to meet the needs of the children they educate, teachers say they are exhausted. Sencos – teachers in mainstream schools with the overview of special educational needs, and the people holding the fragile system together – report feeling overwhelmed and undervalued. This is not sustainable, but it can be changed.

Under the current funding system, most of the increased costs come from funding special school placements, rather than on inclusive education in mainstream classrooms. The government’s December 2025 announcement of a funding investment to create 60,000 specialist placements in mainstream schools is welcome.

To make special educational needs and disabilities provision fair and effective, better management of budgets at both national and local levels, stronger leadership in schools through a properly resourced Senco role, and comprehensive training for all teachers to support inclusion is needed.

The government has recently announced £200 million to be spent on teacher training to create a “truly inclusive education system”. This very welcome investment marks a significant shift: it recognises that inclusion cannot be achieved through structural reform alone.

It requires a confident, well‑trained workforce able to meet diverse needs early and effectively. If delivered at scale and with fidelity, this could begin to rebalance the system. It would reduce dependence on EHCPs by strengthening universal and targeted provision, and easing the need for specialist placements.

EHCPs are far from perfect, but they cannot disappear overnight without reforms that place inclusion in the heart of universal education provision with statutory protection.

However, once the system is gradually robust enough, EHCPs will be needed less and less.

Without these reforms, families will continue to fight for support without knowing whether this is the best way to have their children’s needs met. Schools will feel pressured to move pupils out of mainstream settings, and costs will continue to rise.

What works

Investment in strong local provision and workforce development can reduce reliance on expensive independent placements, improve outcomes and restore trust between families and schools.

In Kirklees, Yorkshire, schools, families and communities are encouraged to engage in mutual support and shared learning to foster collective responsibility.

Some local authorities are demonstrating what reform can look like. Haringey’s Send and Inclusion Improvement Plan (2024–2025) is built on five priorities: early intervention, meeting needs locally, providing choice, working together with families, and preparing children for adulthood.

Providing early, expert support for the 800,000 UK children with lifelong speech and language challenges would transform lives and save £8 billion annually, according to the Disabled Children’s Partnership and the Speech, Language and Communication Alliance.

Universities need to be involved more than ever, equipping teachers and Sencos with neurodiversity-friendly and dyslexia-friendly research and training interweaved in mainstream, holistic instruction that can continue through in-service training and professional development opportunities.

We’ve seen that children are being placed in costly independent schools with their fees paid by the state. Many are owned by private equity firms that have turned special education into a lucrative business. This is draining public funds at an unsustainable rate, while outcomes for pupils remain stubbornly poor.

The question now is whether the government will be brave enough to overhaul a system that has become both inefficient and inequitable, and deliver sustainable reforms, beyond one-off package funds, prioritising inclusion and early support over bureaucracy and profit.

Paty Paliokosta does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

I research the harm that can come to teenagers on social media. I don’t support a ban

2026-01-21T14:09:06Z

Rawpixel.com/Shutterstock

The UK government has launched a consultation on introducing an Australian-style ban on social media for under-16s. The proposal is framed as a bold response to rising concerns about young people’s mental health, online abuse and exposure to harmful content.

At first glance, a ban sounds straightforward: keep children away from platforms that can cause harm. But as someone who has spent years researching young people’s digital lives, relationships and wellbeing, I believe that a blanket ban risks misunderstanding both the problem and the solution.

My research with teenagers consistently shows that the harms young people experience online are not separate from the harms they face offline. Bullying, racism, sexism, coercion, exclusion and body image pressures all pre-date social media. Digital platforms can amplify these problems, but they do not create them from scratch.

In focus groups I conducted with teenagers and research I carried out with young people during the pandemic, participants described online life as an extension of school corridors, peer groups and local communities. This is what scholars increasingly call a “post-digital” reality. Young people do not experience online and offline as separate worlds, but as a single, interconnected continuum.

If harms are socially rooted, then technical restrictions alone are unlikely to solve them. A ban treats social media as the problem, rather than asking deeper questions about why certain behaviours – harassment, shaming, misogyny, exploitation – occur in the first place.

We also need to ask why digital spaces have become the default arenas for meeting so many needs in the first place. Over years of funding cuts to youth services, reduced community spaces and intensified academic pressures, online platforms have filled a gap.

They did not simply colonise young people’s lives. They were invited into a vacuum created by adult policy decisions. A ban addresses the symptom of these developments while leaving the wider contexts untouched.

There is also a practical problem. Age-based bans are difficult to enforce. Young people are resourceful digital citizens. Many will find workarounds, migrate to unregulated platforms or simply lie about their age.

This risks driving online activity underground, away from any oversight of parents, teachers and support services. Instead of engaging with young people where they already are, a ban could make it harder to identify those who are struggling and need help.

A recent joint statement signed by more than 40 children’s charities, digital safety experts and bereaved families warns of the danger that blanket prohibitions may isolate vulnerable young people from peer support networks and crisis resources.

What young people say they need

Many young people are critical of social media. In my research on online harms and influencer culture, young people frequently describe feeling exhausted by comparison culture, constant notifications and the pressure to be “always on”. They often say they want more time offline and more meaningful face-to-face connection.

Teens want more authentic experiences and to be able to talk to adults about social media. SeventyFour/Shutterstock

This ambivalence shows that young people are not passive victims of technology but can identify problems and articulate the kind of digital lives they want. They ask for better education, more honest conversations and greater adult understanding.

They want to learn how to set boundaries, recognise coercion and algorithmic manipulation, and manage conflict. Above all, they want to be taken seriously as partners in solving the problems they face.

A blanket ban treats young people as a single homogeneous group, ignoring the diversity of their experiences, needs and circumstances. It assumes that what is protective for one young person will be protective for all, rather than recognising that risks and benefits are shaped by identity, relationships, resources and context.

What parents are really worried about

Parents’ perspectives add another important layer. In research colleagues and I have carried out with families, many parents express deep ambivalence about social media. They worry about online harms and often voice a nostalgic desire to return to a pre-internet era of childhood.

Yet this nostalgia is rarely about technology alone. It is more often an expression of feeling out of control as parents, in the face of powerful tech companies, complex digital cultures and broader social changes they perceive to be reshaping their children’s lives.

Parents describe feeling torn between wanting to protect their children, while recognising that digital communication is central to modern friendship and learning. They fear both the risks of their children being online and the risks of exclusion from being offline.

In this context, a ban can feel like an attractive proposition. It promises to restore a sense of order and authority. But it risks misdiagnosing the problem. What parents are asking for is not simply prohibition but more support to navigate these tensions, including clearer regulation of platforms, better education in schools and more resources to help families manage digital life together.

The illusion of simple fixes

The appeal of a ban lies in its simplicity. But complex social problems rarely yield to simple technological solutions.

Real progress will be slower and less headline-grabbing. It involves investing in high-quality relationships and sex education that reflects young people’s digital realities, and supporting parents to have informed conversations. It means regulating platform design to reduce exploitation and harassment, and holding social media companies more accountable. And it requires rebuilding the offline services and spaces that give young people genuine alternatives.

Social media is not an external danger that young people occasionally visit. It is woven into their everyday social worlds. By cutting young people off from the spaces through which they meet real personal, interpersonal and social needs, a ban risks leaving them unmoored.

A generation growing up in a networked world needs guidance, not exclusion from the spaces where their lives unfold. Policy must start from how young people actually live, not from adult fears about technology. If we want young people to be safer online, the answer is not to ban their digital lives, but to help them navigate them.

Emily Setty receives funding from ESRC, Leverhulme Trust, University of Surrey and various government, third-sector and for-profit organisations.

Why everyone should be a student of American studies

2026-01-20T18:09:59Z

The US president Donald Trump’s domestic and foreign policy has surprised much of the world, particularly US allies. It breaks with expectations about how the US has traditionally behaved.

This is mainly due to Trump’s speed and bluntness of decisions, his breaks with longstanding norms and his unpredictable style. But the capture of Venezuelan president, Nicolás Maduro, and the mounting tension over America’s threatened occupation of Greenland are not isolated events. Neither is the government’s stance over immigration policy and citizenship. They’re rooted in longstanding struggles for power, justice and equality.

This is what makes the academic subject of American studies – in decline in UK universities – so relevant. American studies examines the nation’s history, literature, politics and social movements. By doing so, it helps contextualise current conflicts. Political polarisation, racial tensions, culture wars and debates over identity are placed within a broader historical framework.

During Trump’s presidencies, the US has projected a more muscular, transactional approach to global affairs. At the same time, it has also reconfigured its own traditional ideals. This shift has affected everything from security and trade to climate and technology.

Expanding our understanding of how American society, culture and politics works helps us anticipate instability. This could be through formal education like an American studies course or through building our own knowledge.

The American experiment

America has long understood itself as an “experiment” rather than a finished nation. It’s a political project constantly being tested, revised and debated. This idea is embodied in the US Constitution. It was designed not as a fixed blueprint but as a living framework, capable of change through amendments.

American history is rife with examples of how democracy has been an ongoing (and flawed) project, not a completed one. The nation’s history is marked by struggles over who gets to participate in the democratic process. This includes the exclusion of women, the LGBTQ+ community, African Americans and Native Americans, and the fight for voting rights and civil liberties. Understanding this history can help contextualise the current political landscape. It reminds us that the issues we face today are not entirely new.

American studies can’t fully explain the present without grounding students in the Constitution’s foundational architecture. This includes the separation of powers into equal branches, the system of checks and balances, and the assumption that no single person or institution should dominate the republic.

These principles have been challenged before. During the Civil War, the survival of constitutional democracy itself was at stake. During the McCarthy era – a period of persecution of people with left-wing views in the 1940s and 50s, led by US senator Joseph McCarthy – fear eroded civil liberties. Understanding what is occurring during the Trump administration therefore requires situating him not as an anomaly outside the system, but as a stress test within the American experiment. This stress reveals both the vulnerabilities and the resilience of the constitutional order.

Past and present

Trump’s recent capture of Maduro follows months of military campaigning and years of strained relationships. The possibility of a US-led invasion of Venezuela stems back to 2017, when Venezuela slid towards political unrest. The erosion of democracy, accusations of human rights violations and economic collapse led to humanitarian crises.

The US has a long history of interventions, peace operations and force-backed diplomacy that long predates this event, such as in Cuba (1961), the Dominican Republic (1965), Grenada (1983) and Panama (1989). These examples all fit into a long tradition of US intervention rooted in the Monroe Doctrine (1823) and later expanded by the Roosevelt Corollary (1904). Together, these doctrines supplied the ideological and legal justification for US involvement in Latin America.

The mounting tension over America’s heavy strategic interest in Greenland echoes cold war anxieties. It is reminiscent of the great-power rivalry, strategic geography and militarisation that defined that era.

More significantly for global relations and stability, it potentially jeopardises the future of Nato. As The US is one of Nato’s principal architects, guarantors, and its military backbone, this is alarming. America’s historical association with the alliance has been defensive and leadership-driven.

The recent killing of Renee Good by a US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent in Minneapolis has refocused the debate over America’s immigration enforcement. The expansion in power and visibility of ICE fits into a long history of questioning “What is an American?”. It’s been a topic of debate since the 18th century.

Debates over immigration reflect deeper questions about national identity. The US vice-president, J.D. Vance, questioned New York City’s then-mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani’s American citizenship. He linked American identity to the American civil war. This raised a highly problematic – if not shocking – interpretation of “Americanness”.

By looking back at these historical moments, we can better understand the root causes of contemporary problems. In short, understanding America’s past is a vital tool for understanding and navigating the global present.

Sarah Trott does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Developmental language disorder can have life-long effects – and it’s easily missed in multilingual children

2026-01-19T17:42:12Z

Marko Poplasen/Shutterstock

Six-year-old Antoni, born in the UK to Polish parents, speaks only a few English words in class and often looks confused when the teacher gives instructions. He could simply be adjusting to English – or the problem could be developmental language disorder (DLD), a condition that severely impairs a child’s ability to learn, use and understand spoken language.

Such challenges are increasingly common for parents and teachers. In England, for example, around 21% of schoolchildren are growing up with a first language other than English. While most children’s language development – whether monolingual or multilingual – is typical, the average classroom includes two DLD-affected children. DLD’s prevalence, roughly 8%, is similar worldwide, from China to Mexico.

Even so, DLD remains under-recognised and under-served – especially compared to other developmental conditions, such as dyslexia, autism or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).

Identifying DLD in multilingual children can be difficult. Each language a child learns develops at its own pace, depending on factors such as how often they hear and use it. For example, multilingual children may temporarily lag behind their monolingual peers in vocabulary in one language, but this should not be mistaken for DLD.

Children with DLD show problems across all their languages and need specialist help. In contrast, those with typically developing language only struggle in the language they need more exposure to, like English at school.

Learning two or more languages promotes linguistic, social and cognitive strengths in all children. Contrary to longstanding myths that multilingualism harms language development, learning multiple languages does not cause or exacerbate DLD. Support for DLD should sustain all of a child’s languages, as these are critical for wellbeing, identity and family relationships.

DLD support should include all a child’s languages. Tom Wang/Shutterstock

The impact of DLD is lifelong and extends far beyond language. It has consequences for mental health, socialisation, literacy, academic performance, and quality of life. Accurate, timely diagnosis and support are essential, not just for individual life chances, but also for society. Adults with DLD are more likely to have difficulty getting a job and have a criminal record.

Addressing DLD

There are key signs that a multilingual child may be at risk for DLD, suggesting an approach to a speech and language therapist. These include if they:

are slower to say first words, or put words together, than siblings
struggle to understand what others say or follow instructions
have trouble expressing thoughts or telling stories
rely excessively on gestures (like pointing) to communicate instead of words
are slower to learn English in school than peers with similar age, cultural and linguistic backgrounds
struggle to interact with children who speak the same languages.

Following referral, speech and language therapists gather information from parents, teachers, tests and other sources, aiming to understand the child’s abilities in all their languages.

In linguistically diverse countries, there are still considerable obstacles, however. UK-based speech and language therapists, for example, still lack reliable tools to equally assess English and the children’s additional languages. With few speech and language therapists having multilingual proficiency, and a shortage of appropriately trained interpreters, DLD can be missed – or typical multilingual development mislabelled as disordered – thus delaying or misdirecting support.

Progress is being made, with promising new tools like the UK bilingual toddlers assessment tool and the language impairment testing in multilingual settings (Litmus) battery. The former uses two-year-olds’ vocabulary in British English and their other language, alongside their exposure to each language, to determine whether their language development may be at risk.

Similarly, the Litmus battery includes tools for assessing the language skills of multilingual children from a range of ages and language backgrounds, such as phonological memory and storytelling.

More recently, our team is developing a dynamic assessment resource at Newcastle University that uses enjoyable activities to detect DLD. It explores multilingual children’s learning potential – not just their existing skills – in language and communication areas affected by the condition, such as telling stories or recognising emotions in people’s voices.

Detecting DLD is the first step. Support from family, schools and speech and language therapists can then transform a multilingual child’s life outcomes, helping them grow up healthier and happier.

Teresa Garrido-Tamayo received PhD funding from the Economic and Social Research Council via the Northern Ireland and North East Doctoral Training Partnership from 1st October 2019 to 31st May 2023.

Laurence White received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council from 1st August 2013 to 31st July 2016 (ES/K010123/1 - "Lexical Development in Bilingual Toddlers" - Principal Investigator, Caroline Floccia, University of Plymouth).

Carolyn Letts does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Evidence for link between digital technology use and teenage mental health problems is weak, our large study suggests

2026-01-14T08:49:36Z

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For years, the narrative surrounding teenagers’ use of digital technology has been one of alarm.

Time spent scrolling through TikTok or playing video games is widely seen to be driving the current crisis in youth mental health, fuelling rising rates of anxiety and depression.

But our recent study suggests that this simple story of cause and effect is not supported by the evidence.

After following more than 25,000 young people in Greater Manchester over three school years, we found little evidence that self-reported time spent on social media or frequent gaming causes mental health problems in early-to-mid adolescence. Instead, the relationship between digital technology use and teenagers’ wellbeing is far more nuanced than simple cause and effect.

While many previous studies have looked at a single snapshot in time, we used a longitudinal approach: observing the same young people over an extended period of time. We did this through the #BeeWell programme, which surveys young people annually. We tracked the same pupils across three annual waves, from year eight (when they were aged 12-13) to year nine (aged 13-14) to year ten (aged 14-15).

Another crucial point is that our analysis separated “between-person” effects from “within-person” effects. In other words, rather than just comparing the mental health of heavy users of social media or gaming to that of light users, we looked at whether a specific teenager’s mental health worsened after they started spending more time on social media (or gaming) than they usually did.

It’s easy to assume that social media causes low mood. caseyjadew/Shutterstock

When we applied this rigorous method, the supposed link between digital technology use and later “internalising symptoms” – worry, low mood – largely vanished. For both boys and girls, an increase in time on social media or gaming frequency did not predict a later rise in symptoms.

How teens use social media

A common theory is that how we use social media matters more than how long we spend on it. Some argue that “active” use, like posting photos and chatting, is better than “passive” use, such as endless scrolling.

However, our sensitivity analyses found that even when we distinguished between these two types of online behaviour, the results remained the same. Neither active nor passive social media use was a significant driver of later mental health problems in our sample.

While we found no evidence of digital technology use causing later mental health issues, we did find some interesting differences in how boys and girls navigate their digital lives over time.

Girls who spent more time gaming in one year tended to spend less time on social media the following year. This suggests that for girls, gaming and social media may compete for the same limited free time.

Boys who reported higher levels of internalising symptoms (like low mood) in one year went on to reduce their gaming frequency the next. This suggests boys may lose interest in hobbies they previously enjoyed when their mental health declines. This is known as “anhedonia”.

The gap between headlines and research

If the evidence is so weak, why is the concern so strong? Part of the issue is a reliance on simple correlations. If you find that anxious or depressed teens use more social media, it is easy to assume the social media caused their difficulties.

But it is just as likely that the mental health problems came first, or that a third factor, such as school stress or family difficulties, is driving both. By using a large, diverse sample and controlling for factors like socio-economic background and special educational needs, our study provides a clearer view of the real-world impact (or lack thereof) of teenagers’ digital technology use.

Our findings do not mean that the digital world is without risks. Our study looked at year-on year trends, so it does not rule out the possibility of negative effects of social media or gaming in the shorter-term – such as immediately after use. Furthermore, issues like cyberbullying, sleep disruption or exposure to harmful content remain serious concerns.

However, our findings suggest that limiting the hours spent on consoles and apps or measures such as banning social media for under 16s is unlikely to have an effect on teenagers’ mental health in the long term. Policymakers should take note. Worse, such blanket bans may obscure the real risk factors by offering a simple solution to a complex problem.

Instead, it’s important to look at the broader context of a young person’s life, including the factors that may lead to both increased digital technology use and internalising symptoms. If a teenager is struggling, technology use is rarely the sole culprit. By moving away from the predominant “digital harm” narrative, we can focus on the real, complex factors that drive adolescent wellbeing.

Neil Humphrey receives funding from various bodies including The National Lottery Community Fund to conduct research on young people's wellbeing

Qiqi Cheng does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The academic study of politics is failing disabled people – with real-world consequences

2026-01-13T17:34:40Z

AnnaStills/Shutterstock

Diversity among students and researchers is a common goal across academia. This has been driven by a desire to increase opportunities for the historically marginalised in higher education – moving away from the straight, white and male personification of academia.

It also comes from a recognition that diversity brings innovation. It enhances the quality of research and teaching. It improves how higher education institutions engage with a diverse student body. Increased representation has affected how academia operates.

This is true in my discipline of political science. As we have worked to expand representation in the profession, we have broadened our understanding of the diversity of politics.

Growing representation in the field has increased our awareness of how different groups engage with politics. These are people often historically discounted in societies and ignored by political science: women, the LGBTQ+ community, people from ethnic minority backgrounds. Increased diversity gives academia invaluable general insight into the organisation of politics.

But disability in politics is in its infancy, as is the representation of the disabled scholar. Underrepresentation will affect any field. In political science, though, this is a particularly hazardous situation. Many of the issues disabled people encounter in society will result from political decision making.

In the UK, 25% of the population is considered to potentially have a disability. This not only includes physical or sensory impairment and neurodiversity, but long-term illness such as HIV, and mental health conditions such as depression.

Disabled students in higher education, from a position of underrepresentation, are also now an expanding group as the sector has made efforts to increase accessibility. Around 18% of UK students report having a disability. Yet only 7% of academics declare a disability in higher education.

Around one-fifth of UK students report having a disability. VisualBricks/Shutterstock

Politics can deeply affect the lives of the disabled person. A change in policy may leave them unable to work or contribute to society, creating more barriers in life.

The unease in the disabled community about being represented in the assisted dying debate and the prospective fallout is one key example. Debate has also focused on what cars disabled people should be allowed to drive.

But because political science rarely recognises disability, politics and politicians are provided with little information on the impact of policy. We need more disabled political scientists to increase awareness, and this awareness will help better interrogate political issues around disability. More lived experiences of disability should provide insight, but also help create acknowledgement that the issues exist, from those who may never experience disability. But barriers exist.

Changing research

In my research, I argue that this lack of diversity has been entrenched by the marginalisation of disabled political scientists. We are not present or visible in research positions. At best, we are considered a novelty (as has been said to me on more than one occasion).

We – disabled scholars – are trying to highlight the disabling barriers that prevent career progress. These are usually hidden from non-disabled colleagues, who I believe are unaware of the issues, rather than looking to maintain exclusion.

One such barrier is hidden labour. A disabled scholar must make greater sacrifices to “make it” compared to non-disabled colleagues. This includes, for example, the energy required to access inaccessible teaching spaces, fieldwork travel and overcoming sensory overload or burnout. This effort must be put in to not have aspersions placed on a disabled scholar’s academic capacity. But there is often little or no acknowledgement from universities and other scholars of the barriers that mean this extra work is required.

We may be slowly approaching a turning point in the research of disability in politics. Several scholars are showing disability can provide understanding on how politics operates. Researchers are focusing on issues such as the political representation of the disabled person, and disability’s place within political theory. Others are exploring how disability affects support for political parties.

Research like this on disability is providing understanding of how far assumptions based on the non-disabled person are influential in politics. For instance, it is developing our knowledge about who gets to be represented in politics, and the barriers that exist for disabled people to actively engage in political participation.

There is a small but growing awareness that disability potentially offers a new perspective to frame our understanding of politics. Currently, this understanding is built on the image of the non-disabled person and what they believe politics should look like. The disabled person is an important part of society, but one that has often suffered from political decision making.

Once the disabled political scientist becomes a norm rather than exception, the importance of disability will be more undeniable. We will be better able to address and understand the impact politics has upon disabled people.

David Alexander does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

English lessons shouldn’t be an immigration test – why the UK’s new policy risks deepening exclusion

2026-01-13T17:34:36Z

shutterstock Media_Photos/Shutterstock

What happens when learning English stops being a bridge into society and starts to feel like a test of belonging you can fail?

That is the question raised by the the UK government’s proposed new immigration policy, which would raise English-language requirements for most visa routes, with the aim of improving integration and workforce readiness.

This represents an increase in emphasis on language proficiency. Applicants would have to demonstrate higher proficiency in speaking, reading, writing and listening. There would be stricter testing standards and fewer exemptions, aligning immigration with strong communication skills for employment and community participation.

Ministers say the proposed policies will promote “integration” and “opportunity”. But it risks doing the opposite, by turning English for speakers of other languages (Esol) into a tool of surveillance rather than inclusion.

We are part of the Coalition for Language Education, a network of academics, teachers and organisations. The group argues that the proposed policy treats the ability to speak English less as a means of empowerment and more as a mechanism of immigration control.

By tying long-term residence and citizenship to staged progress in learning English, the policy reframes language not as a shared public good, but as a condition of acceptance. In effect, English becomes a kind of border.

Language shapes how we live together. It’s how people build relationships, find work, take part in communities and participate in democracy. But it can also be used to divide and exclude.

For non-native speakers, learning English has long been about helping people navigate everyday life, express themselves and feel at home. The government’s proposals, however, position English proficiency as a test of belonging – something to be proved, measured and monitored.

A decade-long test of worthiness

Under the plan, migrants seeking settlement or citizenship would be required to show staged progress in English, moving from basic to upper-intermediate levels over a ten-year period. Language attainment would be linked to a points-based system that also tracks employment and civic participation.

Language acquisition, however, is not linear. Progress is shaped by trauma, health, caring responsibilities, work patterns and previous education. For refugees and others who have experienced displacement or interrupted schooling, the expectation of steady, testable improvement can be unrealistic and punitive.

Reducing these complex learning journeys to tick-box benchmarks turns learning English into a compliance exercise. Linguistic ability becomes confused with effort, morality and even loyalty. Passing tests is seen as proof of trying hard, so failure implies laziness. Fluency becomes linked to being a “good” or “deserving” migrant. High proficiency signals commitment to national identity, while lower ability is framed as resistance.

This is not just a UK issue either. Around the world, language education has increasingly been tied to immigration control. What is new with this proposal is how openly English is framed as something to be audited.

In the UK, attendance, test results and progression targets risk becoming data points used to monitor behaviour, rather than tools to support learning. Teachers are pushed to prioritise performance indicators over dialogue, confidence-building and community connection.

When language becomes a tool of control, it reshapes citizenship itself, testing people against a narrow linguistic ideal and eroding democratic values. Equality, fairness, inclusion and participation erode when language becomes a gatekeeping tool. Narrow linguistic standards exclude diverse speakers, denying equal access to citizenship and civic rights.

A policy detached from reality

Beyond its ideology, the proposed policy also fails on practical grounds. Esol provision across the UK is already underfunded and uneven. Community and voluntary providers, who support many of the most marginalised learners, are expected to deliver high-stakes outcomes with limited resources.

But there are no commitments to teacher training, pay, or access for women, refugees, or rural learners. There is little recognition of the barriers many learners face, including trauma, caring responsibilities or lack of access to childcare and transport. Nor is there any serious engagement with trauma-informed or learner-centred teaching approaches. Instead, the policy doubles down on a technocratic model that values what can be measured over what actually matters in the classroom.

Language should help people connect, not police their right to stay. Integration cannot be engineered through fear of failure or threat of exclusion. It grows when education is welcoming, well resourced and rooted in respect.

Linguistic diversity is not a problem to be solved. It is a public resource that enriches communities and strengthens democracy. Teaching English works best when it builds on what learners already know, rather than treating their languages as obstacles to overcome.

shutterstock. Alone Pik/Shutterstock

Instead of tethering language learning to immigration enforcement, the government should invest in trauma-informed, learner-centred provision that meets learners’ needs. Assessment, too, needs rethinking. It should prioritise real-world communication and participation, not abstract benchmarks that silence voices.

Most importantly, integration must be understood as a two-way process. Host communities have as much to learn as newcomers.

If the government believes in empowerment, then education should amplify voices, not diminish them. Language policy should open doors, not lock them.

By replacing the language of rights and participation – teaching English not just for jobs, but to empower migrants to understand, claim and exercise their rights and engage in civic life – with conditional belonging, the proposed policy risks reinforcing inequality rather than reducing it. Presenting linguistic mastery as proof of national worth corrodes the democratic values language education should uphold.

Language should unite, not divide. When the English language is turned into an instrument of control, the very medium through which democracy operates is weakened. The task ahead is not to “restore control” over language, but to restore trust – in learners, in teachers and in the power of linguistic diversity to bring people together.

Declan Flanagan is affiliated with NATECLA.

Mike Chick is affiliated with the Welsh Refugee Council.

How realistic is Mattel’s new autistic Barbie?

2026-01-13T17:34:34Z

Autistic people are so rarely depicted in media and entertainment, it’s no wonder most people don’t really understand much about the neurotype.

So we were pleased to see the launch of autistic Barbie.

Autism is a life-long neurodevelopmental difference, meaning autistic children grow into autistic adults. As autistic researchers, who advocate for the increased meaningful representation of our community, it was a good sign that multinational toy company Mattel worked with an autistic-led advocacy organisation based in the US, the Autistic Self Advocacy Network, in creating this new toy.

We have seen mixed reviews from autistic people since the launch, with some praising representation while others have been more critical of the doll.

Here are some considerations about her features to help you make up your own mind.

The tablet

Autistic Barbie is shown with a tablet with an augmented and alternative communication (AAC) application, which speaks aloud when buttons are pressed.

Some autistic people find communicating extremely challenging, and around a third cannot communicate reliably by speaking. This leads to needs going unmet, feeling misunderstood and often significant distress.

That is, unless an alternative mode of communication is available. Applications available on tablets, such as Proloquo2Go and Coughdrop, are helpful for some autistic people to communicate their needs and preferences.

Although some non-speaking autistic people find it easier to communicate with non-digital options such as printed cards, or using a low-tech signboard with letter tiles alongside a skilled communication partner, we think it’s great that this Barbie comes with a tablet.

The headphones

Sensory sensitivities are a core element of autistic lived experience. Autistic people are commonly sensitive to noise, light, smells, textures and taste. To represent this, autistic Barbie comes with noise-cancelling headphones which can be vital for some autistic people with noise sensitivities. However, other autistic people may find them too uncomfortable to wear and prefer in-ear options. For this reason, autistic people should be allowed to wear ear protection any time it is safe.

Eye contact

The development team reportedly gave Barbie a sideways glance, which aimed to show that eye contact may be uncomfortable and thus avoided in autistic people. An additional way to strengthen autistic Barbie could be to show the potential of visual distress, and to provide her with a coloured glasses accessory. Coloured lenses are a helpful tool to reduce the pain some autistic people feel in response to light, movement and colours. In reality, a specialist test can be used to help autistic people figure out what colour is best for them.

The outfit

Mattel seem to have invested thought in making Barbie’s outfit comfortable from a sensory point of view. Her outfit does not come with labels sewn in – a common cause of irritation to autistic people.

Her dress is loose and flowing, which may appeal to those with tactile hypersensitivity. We didn’t have an autistic Barbie to hand, so we aren’t sure what the fabric is like, but soft and comfortable fabric is a must for many autistic people.

It is worth noting that autistic people often have individual clothing preferences, and some may prefer tight – or even restrictive – clothing as it provides proprioceptive feedback, which can be comforting. It can also support hypermobile joints, which are at least three times as common in autistic people compared to non-autistic people. Furthermore, many autistic people are gender non-conforming, so may not see themselves represented in this outfit.

Autistic Barbie is wearing Mary Jane-style flat shoes, rather than Barbie’s typical high heels. Many autistic people struggle with shoes and rigid slim shoes may be uncomfortable for some. Almost half of autistic young people also walk on their tiptoes as a way of stimming, so allowing a movable ankle would have allowed this to be visible.

The stim tool

Stimming is an important way for autistic people to stay comfortable and regulated. It can undo some of the pain and discomfort of an unsuitable sensory environment. For this reason, we were really pleased to see that Barbie has two opportunities to stim. First, she has bendable elbows and wrists – many autistic people do some form of repetitive movement of their arms and hands as part of stimming. Also, Barbie holds a fidget spinner. This is a small toy that creates an interesting tactile and visual response.

Although not all autistic people will like fidget spinners, most engage in stims with their hands, so this is a good representation of one object that autistic people use to stim.

So how did Mattel do?

Social science researchers have claimed that Barbie – regardless of neurotype – has historically been reductive and problematic. Barbie is unachievably thin, extremely feminine and all too often white. It is important not to ignore these criticisms, however, Barbies are very popular toys and have a reach beyond other brands, and their range of disabled Barbies feels important to raise awareness.

There is no single “look” to being autistic, so the Barbie Mattel created can’t represent everyone, especially as her design is limited to visual elements. Despite these issues, we think, in general, that Mattel and the Autistic Self Advocacy Network have done a great job of creating the autistic Barbie doll.

Her existence is an overall positive. Her inclusion creates a much-needed opportunity for representation, education and normalises the use of disability accommodations.

Aimee Grant receives funding from The Wellcome Trust and UKRI.

Rebecca Ellis does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

How to share books with children to help them love reading

2026-01-09T16:44:28Z

Kleber Cordeiro/Shutterstock

Fewer children in the UK are growing up with a love of books.

Following a survey that showed the proportion of children and young people reading for pleasure has fallen to its lowest level in two decades, the UK government, the National Literacy Trust and other organisations have declared 2026 a national year of reading.

The aim of the campaign is to meet people where they are and encourage them to read about what they’re already interested in. For parents of children – whether they’re reluctant readers or not – a brilliant way to do this is to explore the many ways you can share reading, and your child’s interests, together.

Adults reading together with children from an early age is one of the most effective ways to shield children from the effects of social inequalities, including those linked with childhood disadvantage. For example, reading with young children helps them meet early development milestones and to go on to do better at school.

Children who are read to from an early age tend to learn language faster. These children are also then more likely to go on to develop better vocabularies and become better readers in school.

What’s also vitally important – and often overlooked in favour of the academic benefits of shared reading – is that time spent reading together builds a bond between adults and children, and comes with a wealth of wellbeing benefits for children and adults alike.

A recent report from children’s reading charity The BookTrust emphasises how sharing books fosters early attachment, a dynamic set of expectations and behaviours that stem from the caregiver and how responsive to their child they are.

These early attachments are the fundamental building blocks that lay the groundwork for healthy and happy development. Strong bonds between children and their caregivers are built through calm, consistent and responsive everyday interactions where children feel safe.

When a child shares a book with a parent or carer, this encourages joint attention, helping adults to connect with their child. Reading together is a moment of emotional closeness: parents are tuning into their child’s inner world and responding with warmth, which further strengthens their bond.

The simple, structured activity of sharing a book together encourages the child to develop expectations based on their caregiver’s responsiveness, using them as a secure base, allowing them to explore the world and a safe haven to return to if distressed.

For example, during shared reading a child may point to a picture and say “dog.” Through repeated experiences, the child comes to expect that the adult will notice their focus of attention and respond to them, by immediately and enthusiastically saying, for instance: “That’s right, it’s a black and white dog.” Over time, the child learns that their communicative attempts are valued and will be met with interest and warmth, reinforcing expectations of support and understanding during interactions.

During shared reading, you and your child are in tune. Being present and responsive during reading helps children find the calm in the chaos – as well as you finding this as an adult too.

Making the most of shared reading

When it is time to share a book, create a calm, cosy atmosphere without lots of distractions. Leave digital devices somewhere else, and dim lights or turn on lamps to create soft lighting. Choose a comfy spot: it could be a bed or on the floor with pillows or blankets. At this time the focus is you and your child or children.

Find a cosy spot to read together. New Africa/Shutterstock

Don’t feel compelled to read every word on the page. One of us (Jamie Lingwood) has a two year old son, and doesn’t spend a great deal of time reading the text in the books they share – his son is more interested in flicking through the pictures. It’s OK to just look at the pictures and talk about what you think might be happening in the story. Books are a prop for this shared reading time: use them to start a conversation, storytelling or role play.

As children become older, give them a choice of what to read. One of us (Emma Vardy) has a three year old daughter. Each night she gets a selection of books to pick from, giving her choice over the reading material.

Reading also doesn’t have to mean a book. As the national year of reading campaign encourages, look to what your children are interested in. It could be a comic book, a magazine or a newspaper. You could even create your own book together.

Bedtime is the time we start to all unwind, but shared reading doesn’t need to be at bedtime. It could also be in the morning, if you have an early riser, or sitting at the table sharing lunch.

Shared reading is an opportunity for parents, carers, grandparents, children and communities to rediscover the joy and connection that books can bring.

Jamie Lingwood receives funding from the Educational Endowment Foundation and Nuffield Foundation.

Emma Vardy receives funding from Education Endowment Foundation.

I taught art in a high-security prison – Waiting for the Out took me straight back to my classroom

2026-01-09T14:13:55Z

Watching Waiting for the Out, the BBC’s flagship new drama series, transported me straight back to my classroom in HMP Wakefield in the mid-1990s. This decaying Victorian building at the heart of a challenged city in the north of England is one of the UK’s ten category-A, high-security prisons for men. Many inmates are on life or whole-life sentences.

I was a naive, young graduate from Yorkshire with limited teaching experience, no teaching qualification and certainly no knowledge of prison education. I was looking to fund my part-time PhD – a qualification that was becoming the prerequisite for employment in universities.

Teaching art and the humanities at HMP Wakefield changed my life, making me the educator and campaigner I am today. As the publicity for Waiting for the Out says: “Freedom isn’t always on the outside.”

This refers to the mental health challenges of the main character, Dan (Josh Finan), a philosophy teacher in a category-B prison somewhere in London, and also his students (men both outside and inside the prison walls). But it also speaks directly to what I came to realise about the power of art education.

The trailer for Waiting for the Out.

In an excruciating but true-to-my-experience dinner party scene, Dan is questioned about why he teaches in a prison. He challenges the other guests’ naive assumptions based on the fact he is a “nepo baby” of former prisoners in his family – his father, uncle and brother. The party concludes that all he does is provide a “two-hour holiday in [the inmates’] heads”.

While this might be seen to dismiss the usual rehabilitative justifications for prison teaching, it is the most accurate description I have yet come across. This series is based on the real-life experiences of a prison educator – Andy West’s 2022 memoir The Life Inside – and it shows.

As a woman teaching in Wakefield – a prison that has been the subject of tabloid speculation due to the infamy of some inmates and the nature of the men’s crimes – I was and still am asked to defend my decision to work there. For many of my students, the only freedom to think critically for themselves, and to develop the communication, analytical and life skills needed for release, was in that prison classroom.

What I learned, and what we see in this drama, was the impact of background. I was a “nice middle-class girl”, brought up in a small Yorkshire town and educated at a good comprehensive school. Some of the men I was teaching, like those in the drama, had not had an education at all. They had learned behaviour in their homes and on the streets that contributed to them being in a category-A prison by the age of 18.

This is not to excuse their crimes – we were required to constantly remind ourselves of these as a protection from manipulation and influence – but to acknowledge the potential of lifelong access to education, even for prisoners.

As the dinner party conversation emphasises, educators cannot “save” inmates and will fail if they try. They just need to teach and (as the classroom scenes often show) challenge their students carefully, ask questions and laugh. I learned that humour was a key way to diffuse difficulties and build trust. I was also aware of my role in changing some of my student’s assumptions about women, as is illustrated carefully and thoughtfully in this drama.

The experience of learning how and why we teach art history, art and the humanities in that prison classroom has driven my work ever since. Thirty years on, as a professor of art history who spends much time battling to enable access to my subject, I found Waiting for the Out speaks directly to the importance and power of teaching.

As the series demonstrates, illiteracy levels are incredibly high among the prison population. As the story of Dris (Francis Lovehall) illustrates, to be unable to read is both humiliating and disabling for men wanting to improve themselves and their relationships with their children while inside.

I will never forget the moment when one of the men in my basic skills class was asked by a prison officer why a painting we had been exploring in class was “impressionist”. His historically driven, thought-provoking response clearly demonstrated the power of art history to build confidence in communication, offer different ways of thinking about the world, and generate different types of conversation between guard and inmate.

Jane Featherstone, the executive producer of Waiting for the Out, sent West’s book to the programme writers. She has spoken of investing in [“visionary story tellers”](https://www.sister.net/about/jane-featherstone “) and has campaigned for better arts education in UK schools, describing the lack of culture in the national curriculum in 2017 as "a deprivation of opportunities for children to reach their full potential as human beings”.

This drive to invest in stories about education that makes a difference has also led her to fund Featherstone Fellowships at the University of Leeds, for art teachers from across the UK to do research that demonstrates the power of art education.

With Waiting for the Out, Featherstone has produced a TV drama that focuses deeply on the power of teaching the arts and humanities in prisons. The fact it does this while also exploring mental health, misogyny, gender politics and the impact of family and social contexts shows the importance of the classroom as a space to potentially influence change.

Watching Waiting for the Out brought back memories for me – but it also spoke to the fundamental need to empower teachers and enable education for all. This incredible drama demonstrates why access to arts education matters, even for those who society wants to forget.

Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.

Abigail Harrison Moore has received funding from the Arts and Humanities Research Council and Research England. Art Teachers Connect is delivered in partnership with the Paul Mellon Centre.

Want to read more? Two experts give their tips on what you can do

2026-01-08T17:20:13Z

Makistock/Shutterstock

Reading promises so much: better mental health, a sense of wellbeing, cultural and educational enrichment, even greater confidence and eloquence.

It sounds irresistible; yet for many of us, the reality is very different. Half of the adults in the UK don’t read regularly for pleasure, and more than one in ten find reading difficult.

So why does something so rewarding feel so hard to do? For many adults, a disinterest in reading may well start in childhood. In 2025, only about one in three children and young people aged eight to 18 reported enjoying reading in their free time. And then if children do not see their own parents reading, they are unlikely to see being immersed in a book as a good use of leisure time.

The government’s Education Committee has recently launched an inquiry to explore how to keep the joy of reading alive.

In our research, we both (through different angles) explore ways to get people reading for joy.

Different ways of reading

Many people grow up feeling excluded from the joy of reading, and this may linger into adulthood. Research consistently shows that both children and adults with dyslexia or ADHD report lower levels of enjoyment and therefore tend to read less frequently.

This can be exacerbated by systemic school approaches and priorities that associate reading with national and international tests. Reading is reduced to a performance metric, rather than a source of pleasure.

Simple changes, such as altering the physical properties of the titles you read, or choosing graphic novels, can make a big difference. Neurodivergent readers can access books from publishers that specialise in using accessible fonts, layouts and language, for example.

Audiobooks offer another powerful alternative. Despite the relationship between brain representations of information perceived by listening versus reading is unclear, neuroscience research shows the way our brain represents meaning is nearly the same whether we are listening or reading.

Listening to an audiobook counts as reading! Prostock-studio/Shutterstock

Audiobooks can transform stories from something squeezed in between deadlines into travel companions, kitchen buddies, or late-night unwinders. Accessible on phones, tablets, smart speakers and even through library loans, audiobooks fit seamlessly into busy lives. They can be a great way to get into books for those of us with low reading stamina who need frequent breaks.

For people with ADHD, audiobooks allow for physical movement while reading. They also engage young children effortlessly. Children, as young as three giggle through lively audio tales and tackle complex narratives with ease.

One of us (Paty) recalls her daughter proudly saying she could “see” the stories in her head – like her own private cinema – even preferring them to TV shows. What she didn’t know was that every laugh and every imagined scene was quietly building vocabulary and nurturing a love for books.

Read socially

The social dimensions and shared experiences of reading have been repeatedly highlighted. An example of tackling some of the systemic barriers around reading for pleasure in big scale is the KU Big Read project, launched by one of us (Alison Baverstock) in 2015 and which ran until 2024-25.

Before they started their undergraduate course, new students at Kingston University received a free book in the post – along with a letter from the author referring to their feelings just before starting university.

This gave everyone a shared experience, and a book to talk about, before the nerve-wracking first day. The transition to higher education is a momentous step, and the university saw a significant reduction in the dropout rate in its first year of the project.

The book consistently acted as a connector across the university, with staff and students helping to choose the book for the year ahead.

Look for a book group or online community to discuss what you read. LightField Studios/Shutterstock

We invite you to put this into practice in your own lives. Look for an in-person or online book group or read-along, and make reading social. The book group that one of us (Paty) attends isn’t about pure literary critique, but about human connection.

Make reading a pleasure, not a chore

The charity Reading Force founded by one of us (Alison Baverstock), which promotes the use of shared reading to keep military families connected, has always encouraged making reading fun rather than a laboured and compulsory process. Families are given special scrapbooks to record their shared experience of reading together and the word “literacy” is never mentioned.

Reading is promoted as a fun activity for families, with colourful resources, free books and events with key authors such as charity patron Sir Michael Morpurgo. For families whose access to books may be limited, this can be a gentle, non-judgemental and exciting pathway. Feedback from this process has shown profound connection, wellbeing and emotional satisfaction.

This emotional satisfaction by reading things they would like to read as opposed to imposed ones is of utmost importance. Pick something that engages you, not the book you think you should be reading.

Representation and reading

Feeling represented in the stories you read – whether through your background, values, or identity – can be a powerful way to build a love for books.

Adults from diverse backgrounds have benefited from joining bilingual groups with their children, creating stories together and engaging with books. The gains are significant, not only in literacy and cultural belonging but also in stronger connections with their community.

When books showcase a variety of cultures and include characters of all abilities as central figures, they become more relatable and inviting for readers from all walks of life. And it is never too late.

Alison Baverstock is the founder and director of the charity Reading Force (1159890) which is funded by grants from organisations, charities and benevolent individuals/institutions.

Climate education proposals will prepare young people in England for changing careers and society

2026-01-06T17:34:27Z

PeopleImages/Shutterstock

The review of the national curriculum and assessment in England has proposed three big sets of changes for climate education.

First, to prepare learners for a changing world, it suggests that climate education should be one of five big “applied knowledge areas”: key points of focus that cut across all subject disciplines within the curriculum.

Second, as part of making citizenship teaching compulsory for all key stages, it proposes that age-appropriate climate education should be part of primary teaching. Third, it proposes that climate education is expanded and modernised within specific subjects: geography, science and design and technology.

If implemented together, these changes would bring education in England closer to the comprehensive coverage of climate, sustainability and nature that many people in the sector, including ourselves, have long recommended. It would begin to align education in England with countries around the world, such as Lebanon and Argentina that are seeking to bring climate education into their curricula. Young people have also long been clear about their ambitions for climate education.

The review focuses on the school curriculum. But its effects would extend across the whole education system. What is taught in schools shapes the knowledge, skills and expectations that young people bring into further and higher education. The review will influence qualification design, teacher training and school inspection priorities.

The response to the review has, however, been mixed. Laura Trott, shadow education secretary, has said that “forcing primary schools to use precious time to teach deprived pupils about media literacy and climate change before ensuring that they can read, write and add up is not going to encourage social mobility”.

At the other end of the spectrum, the Climate Majority Project expressed disappointment that the review framed climate as a technical or economic issue, “rather than the all-encompassing context shaping every young person’s future”.

Jobs for the future

The backdrop to the review’s proposals is the accelerating green transition and its impact on UK jobs and growth. Without improved climate education, school leavers in the UK are likely to remain at a significant disadvantage compared with their international peers.

In some countries, such as Sweden and Italy, education for sustainable development is a universal entitlement, meaning they’re better suited for the jobs of the green transition.

The case for climate education goes much further. It’s about preparing young people for the world they already inhabit: one increasingly shaped by climate change, biodiversity loss and limited resources. High-quality climate education helps learners make sense of these realities. It allows them to build critical thinking and problem-solving skills. Importantly, they can connect their learning to real-world purpose.

Climate education helps young people understand the world they already live in. NITINAI THABTHONG/Shutterstock

And far from detracting from core learning or social mobility, climate education deepens both. Global benchmarking systems such as Pisa, which compares education worldwide, increasingly recognise environmental literacy as an indicator of quality education.

The UK’s independent Climate Change Committee, which advises government on how to adapt and prepare for climate change as well as holding them accountable, has warned of the dangers of skills shortages. A lack of climate-related skills, the committee claims, are already constraining the country’s ability to prepare for and respond to climate change impacts. These include extreme weather, heatwaves and flooding.

Ensuring that all young people develop strong climate and nature literacy will therefore be essential for both personal resilience and national prosperity. This matters for every learner, regardless of whether they enter an explicitly “green” profession. All jobs and sectors will need to adapt.

There’s work to be done, though, in making the recommended changes a reality in schools. Luckily, there is already a substantial body of work showing how the curriculum could be changed.

Student campaign organisation Teach the Future has carried out a project that systematically reviews the existing English national curriculum. It suggests precise edits to embed climate and ecological education throughout. Sustainability, climate science and ecological justice are integrated into existing subjects, rather than treated as optional extras.

Alongside that sits the curriculum for climate literacy developed by the Royal Meteorological Society. University College London has also put together a detailed policy proposal. Together, these documents provide a robust foundation for the teams appointed to draft the new curriculum.

Curriculum change is much more than a framework for particular subjects. These changes will only make a genuine difference to learners, schools and society when every teacher has access to high-quality professional development and teaching resources. Consistent sector-wide standards should ensure that all young people benefit.

The curriculum review gives the education system in England a clear opportunity. Climate should be part of a high-quality education system.

Andrew Charlton-Perez receives funding from the Department for Education. He is affiliated, in a personal capacity, with the Labour party as a member and campaigner.

Charlotte works for the Environmental Association for Universities and Colleges (EAUC), who are recipients of Department for Education funding to support the delivery of the Climate Ambassadors project. In a personal rather than professional capacity, she is affiliated with the Green Party.

Online ‘brainrot’ isn’t ruining children’s minds – it’s a new way of navigating the modern internet

2026-01-02T11:39:30Z

Alena A/Shutterstock

“Brainrot” is what many people call the chaotic, fast-moving memes, sounds and catchphrases that spread across TikTok, Roblox and online gaming and into playgrounds. An example is the endlessly repeated chant of “six-seven”, which still echoes through houses and schools across the country – to the bewilderment (or annoyance) of many teachers and parents.

But if you’ve ever said “I’ll be back” in a mock-Arnie voice or asked “you talkin’ to me?”, you’ve already engaged in a form of brainrot. The instinct to repeat and remix lines from the culture around us is nothing new.

What has changed is the source material. For young people growing up in a digital world, quotable moments don’t come from films or TV but from TikTok edits, Roblox streams, speedrun memes, Minecraft mods (modifications) and the fast-paced humour of online gaming.

Hearing a child burst into the looping “Skibidi dop dop dop yes yes” audio from the Skibidi Toilet trend, or repeat a surreal line from a Roblox NPC (non-player character), might sound like nonsense to adults. For the younger generation these fragments slot neatly into a fast-paced, highly referential style of humour. Today’s equivalents are faster, more layered and often more chaotic, with that chaos very much part of the appeal.

Although brainrot is often used knowingly and with a touch of irony to describe these phrases, remixing and repeating fragments of media has always been part of how people connect. It creates a shared cultural code, a second language made of references, rhythms and sounds that bind groups together and turn everyday moments into opportunities for humour and social connection. In many ways, this style of communication offers lightness and playfulness in a world that can often feel slow and muted by comparison.

Changing play

Brainrot is changing how children play online. Many adults grew up with video games that were built around structure. In Pokémon, Zelda or Half-Life, you cleared goals, quests and puzzles to reach endings. Even when games were open-world, giving you nearly total freedom to choose what challenges you take on and when, there was an underlying design logic you were meant to follow.

Those experiences shaped how we thought about play, and later how we approached designing games and interactive tools in research. Structure, narrative and pacing felt fundamental.

Watching children engage with today’s digital culture, and particularly with what gets called brainrot, challenges these assumptions. Their experiences aren’t always built around long-form story arcs or carefully crafted mechanics and challenges. Instead, it’s fluid, fragmentary and relentlessly social.

They jump between Roblox games, short TikTok edits, chaotic Minecraft mods and meme-based jokes without losing the thread. What sometimes looks like disjointed overstimulation to adults is entirely coherent to them. They’re fluent in a form of digital literacy that involves stitching together references, humour, audio, images and interactions at high speed.

Brainrot and research

From a research perspective, this has been a timely reminder that how children engage online changes. Young people aren’t abandoning meaningful play, they’re interacting with an online environment that is dramatically different from the one their parents grew up with.

There is research that raises questions about whether switching between short, chaotic bursts of content might affect attention or wellbeing for some users. For example, a recent study found associations between heavy use of short-form video apps and poorer sleep in adolescents, but also noted that higher social anxiety partly explained this pattern.

A broader analysis of a number of research studies reported similar correlations between heavier use and lower scores on attention tasks, as well as higher stress and anxiety. But these findings do not show causation. It remains unclear whether short-form content affects attention, or whether young people with particular cognitive styles simply gravitate towards media that already fits how they process information.

This shift has changed how we design games for learning. Instead of assuming attention must be sustained in a single direction, we think more about how curiosity works in shorter bursts, how play can be modular, and how meaning can emerge from participation rather than instruction.

Brainrot may not be something we’d replicate directly in an educational game, but some of its qualities, its pace, its playfulness, its remixing of ideas, can offer valuable prompts for thinking differently about how young people engage. The way we learn is constantly evolving and it doesn’t always fit our older frameworks. Rather than resisting that, there’s value in trying to understand it, and in meeting them where they already are.

If we want to understand why brainrot resonates so strongly with children, it helps to see it not as meaningless noise, but as a form of social communication. These references work as inside jokes, but ones that can be remixed endlessly.

This is part of the appeal: brainrot is malleable, collaborative and playful. If you understand it, then you can riff on it, combine it, subvert it, and use it to signal belonging. There’s a enticing level of creativity stitched into the chaos.

There is also an element of self-awareness in much of brainrot culture. Its absurdity isn’t accidental, it’s part of the joke. In that sense it has echoes of earlier artistic or cultural movements that embraced nonsense or playful subversion. One of the key things is that this isn’t something imposed on children by companies or algorithms. Brainrot is something young people choose to build together, adapting and evolving references within their own circles.

Brainrot isn’t evidence that young people are disengaged or unimaginative. It’s a reflection of how they make sense of a digital world that is fast, fragmented and overflowing with ideas.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Five myths about learning a new language – busted

2025-12-29T09:28:34Z

Alfonso Soler/Shutterstock

Language learning is often a daunting prospect. Many of us wish we had learned a language to a higher level at school. But even though adults of all ages can do well in acquiring a new language, fear – or the memory of struggling to memorise grammar at school – can hold us back.

We both work in languages education and recognise the real benefits that learning another language can bring. As well as myriad cognitive benefits, it brings with it cultural insights and empathetic awareness.

With that in mind, we’re here to dispel five myths about language learning that might be putting you off.

Myth one: it’s all about grammar and vocabulary

In fact, learning about people, history and culture is arguably the best part of learning a language. While grammar and vocabulary are undeniably important aspects of language learning, they don’t exist in isolation from how people communicate in everyday life.

Language learning can help us to have “intercultural agility”: the ability to engage empathically with people who have very different experiences from our own. To be able to do this means learning about people, history and culture.

Immersing yourself in a particular country or location, for example through studying or working, is a fantastic way to do this. But when this isn’t feasible, there are so many other options available. We can learn so much through music, books, films, musical theatre and gaming.

Film and TV can be a great way to immerse in a different language and culture. Ellyy/Shutterstock

Myth two: we should focus on avoiding mistakes – they’re embarrassing

One problem with formal language learning is that it encourages us to focus on accuracy at all costs. To pass exams, you need to get things “right”. And many of us feel nervous about getting things wrong.

But in real-life communication, even in our expert languages, we often make mistakes and get away with it. Think of the number of times you have misspelled something, or said the wrong word, and still been understood.

Less formal language learning can encourage us to think more about communication than accuracy.

One advocate of this approach is author Benny Lewis, who popularised a communicative learning approach he calls “language hacking” which focuses on the language skills needed for conversation. Language apps also encourage this, as does real-life travel and communication.

Myth three: it’s too much effort to start over with a new language

You can use languages in lots of ways, and the language you learn at school doesn’t have to be the only one you learn.

In England, most people learn one or more of French, Spanish or German at school. These languages can often serve as great apprenticeship languages, teaching us how to learn a language and about grammatical structures.

But they are not always the languages that we are most likely to use as adults, when family and work could take us anywhere. Our cultural interests might also lead us to want to know more about a new language.

Learning a language that you have a personal interest in can be very motivating and help you to keep going when things get a bit rocky.

Myth four: learning a language is an individual endeavour

You don’t have to learn alone. Learning with others, or having the support of others, can help motivate us to learn.

This might be through a multilingual marriage, joining a conversation group or chatting in a language learning forum online. Don’t feel that you have to have reached a certain proficiency before you start reaching out to others.

You don’t have to learn a language alone. Vera Prokhorova/Shutterstock

Language apps can also make language learning a collective endeavour. You can learn along with friends and family, and congratulate them on their language learning streaks.

This is something both of us do with multiple generations of our families, helping us engage with language learning in a lighthearted way.

Myth five: it’s a lot of hard graft

Learning a language in a systematic way can be challenging, whether in a classroom or from a self-study course. But some things make this easier. We have found that people are more motivated to engage when they have a personal reason to learn. This could be, for example, wanting to communicate with family or to travel to a particular country or region.

The growth in popularity and accessibility of language learning apps has made language learning possible from any location and at any time, often for free.

You can easily catch up on your Chinese from the comfort of your own armchair, at whatever time is most convenient for you. Apps can be fun and playful, and can help us maintain motivation, develop vocabulary and embed grammatical structures.

There are lots of reasons for learning a language, and lots of benefits. We encourage everyone to focus on these benefits, and give it a go.

Jessica Mary Bradley currently receives funding from the British Academy / Leverhulme Trust in collaboration with Wellcome.

Abigail Parrish does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

There are countless reasons families have only one child – and they won’t grow up to be selfish or spoiled

2025-12-22T17:53:55Z

GoodStudio/Shutterstock

Are you a parent to one child? Or are you considering having a child in the future, and wondering about what your family size should be?

Parents of only children are frequently asked when they are having another child, as if there is an expectation that they will be planning another – even though around 45% of families in the UK now have one child.

In research for my new book on only children, I asked over 3,000 parents who had one child about their reasons behind that decision. For some, having one child was a conscious choice. Parents enjoyed the lifestyle and balance that having one child brought, or wanted to limit their family for environmental reasons. Sometimes a difficult or distant relationship with their own sibling drove this choice.

Others, however, had wanted more than one child. Circumstances meant that they couldn’t, or had decided not to, have another baby.

These reasons were often deeply personal. Some parents had difficulties conceiving. Some had experienced miscarriage, baby loss or bereavement, meaning that their only child was the only child here. Others had such a difficult pregnancy or traumatic birth that they could not physically or psychologically experience another pregnancy.

There are all kinds of reasons for a family to have one child. Rido/Shutterstock

The cost of living also affected decisions. Many had made the decision that they couldn’t afford another child due to childcare, housing costs or job insecurity. Some had separated from the child’s other parent or been bereaved. Health problems, for parents or their child, were common, including disability and serious illnesses such as cancer. Health problems, for parents or their child, were common, including disability and serious illnesses such as cancer.

Some mothers talked about how difficult they found the postnatal period, lack of sleep, feeding difficulties and loneliness, resulting in postnatal depression. Some wanted another baby but their partner did not, or parents had experienced significant disagreements in how to parent and care for a child.

Explaining and feeling that you need to justify reasons to family, friends or even strangers who feel entitled to ask, can clearly be distressing. What’s more, parents of one child are likely to have heard that only children are at risk of being lonely, spoiled or being unable to make friends.

This is simply not true. These myths about one child families (a term many prefer to “only child”) have been around for a long time, but the evidence just isn’t there.

Research on only children

The few studies that have shown differences for outcomes for children with or without siblings are often small, flawed, or conducted at a time when there was a lot of social and political pressure to have more children.

More recent research shows very little difference at all. Only children do not have poorer social skills. They are not more selfish or narcissistic. They aren’t less happy in life. They may spend more time alone but are not more likely to describe themselves as lonely, which is an important distinction.

Only children aren’t more selfish or lonely. mae_chaba/Shutterstock

In fact, only children often have slightly higher scores on self-esteem, emotional stability and contentment. Research shows small advantages in creativity, leadership, and curiosity. There is also a small advantage in motivation to achieve.

What affects childhood

Children’s lives are affected by so many different factors. Where there is an absence of a sibling, a different, positive opportunity often fills it. Only children have more time to spend connecting with other family members of friends, more time for hobbies, more family money for activities that they prefer, or simply more focused time alone. Life might look different, but that doesn’t mean it’s worse.

Every child is made up of their own unique strengths and personality that is a culmination of genetics, home life and more. There are far more influential differences between only children’s lives than the shared experience of not having a sibling.

One aspect people often worry about is whether only children will feel the strain in the future when looking after ageing parents. Although some people find great support in their siblings, one study found that adult children may leave care or support for older parents to their siblings.

Although some only children do wish they had a brother or sister, it’s also important to remember that having a sibling isn’t a guarantee they will get along or support each other. Children who feel bullied by their siblings have an increased risk of depression and self-harm. When we wish for more siblings we are wishing for a good relationship and supportive person, and that isn’t always the case.

Research does however show a difference in people’s views of only children. One study asked people to rate characteristics of a hypothetical only child versus one with siblings. People were more likely to believe that only children were higher in narcissistic tendencies. They then tested this belief, finding no difference in narcissism scores between people who had a sibling or not. This is an excellent example of how people believe in the stereotype of the narcissistic selfish only child, but it’s not actually true.

These stereotypes are harmful and importantly not based in reality. Families increasingly come in all different shapes and make ups. Let’s focus on how we make sure more children can feel loved, connected and secure, rather than how many siblings they have.

Amy Brown receives funding from UKRI. She is a volunteer for the charity the Human Milk Foundation.

English classes are being targeted by anti-immigration protesters – but they’ve been politicised for years

2025-12-19T16:44:40Z

New Africa/Shutterstock

Just as the protests outside asylum hotels of summer 2025 faded from headlines, some anti-immigration groups turned their attention to another target: English classes.

On November 24, a protest was organised outside a primary school in Glasgow, in opposition to an Esol (English for speakers of other languages) class being delivered for parents of children at the school. Holding placards reading “protect our kids”, protesters claimed that these classes presented a danger to children at the school.

The protest was widely publicised by Spartan Child Protection Team, a self-styled vigilante “paedophile hunter” group. Just three weeks earlier, the group circulated complaints online regarding an Esol class taking place in a community learning centre next to a primary school in Renfrew. In response, Renfrewshire Council shut down the classes.

Other anti-immigration groups across Scotland have followed suit, raising “safeguarding concerns” around Esol classes – specifically, the presence of migrant adults in proximity to schools.

Glasgow City Council took a strong stance in response to “social media speculation around family learning opportunities” and the protest at Dalmarnock primary school. They defended the importance of the classes for the school community, refused to tolerate “racism or bigotry of any kind” and labelled the campaign as “misguided and toxic”

“We will also not tolerate strangers and vigilante groups coming into our schools claiming to keep children safe when they have a clear hidden agenda to incite fear and alarm by spreading misinformation and inciting violence which is bigotry fuelled and inflamed,” a council spokesperson said in a statement to the media.

Also this month, the Reform mayor of Greater Lincolnshire, Andrea Jenkyns, received legal approval for her plans to withdraw Esol funding. She has said she wants to redirect the budget for such language courses to “Lincolnshire people”.

These examples are part of a pattern over the last 15 years of Esol education becoming politicised as part of the wider discussion on migration.

Politicising language education

Under David Cameron’s Conservative government, increasing emphasis was placed on English language acquisition as an indicator of “integration”. At the same time, however, funding for Esol was slashed, with cuts of up to 32% from 2009-11.

Additionally, Cameron’s policies were widely criticised by politicians and Muslim community groups. Critics argued that the policies stigmatised Muslim women as susceptible to radicalisation, by suggesting that the English language classes could be used to fight extremism.

Echoes of the Cameron-era policies are evident under the current government. Labour’s May 2025 white paper on restoring control over the immigration system emphasises English language skills for integration. It lays out a series of proposals to increase English language requirements for visa holders and permanent residency.

Researchers and teachers in the field of language and migration have argued that such policies take a one-sided approach to integration. The responsibility of acquiring high level English proficiency is placed wholly onto migrants, without any meaningful plans to provide the resources needed to meet the huge demand for Esol.

With decades of cuts, waiting lists for Esol have skyrocketed for public-sector funded college courses across the country. Community organisations, faith groups and migrant support charities have attempted to pick up the slack through casual, often volunteer-led English classes.

Community centres and schools are popular sites for both formal and informal Esol classes, providing easily accessible classes for migrant parents and helping them to connect with the local community.

A struggling sector

As a sector that has been severely underfunded for years, Esol is already struggling. Esol teachers have been battling against the effects of funding cuts – overwork, burnout – for over a decade.

The instructors I have interviewed in my ongoing research are concerned that attempts to further reduce Esol provision will have damaging consequences for migrants. For newcomers, Esol is a source of community, a means to access vital support and a tool to find stable, decent work.

They were also increasingly worried about the impact of the current political climate on the sector and – more importantly – on their students. With Esol taking a progressively more central place within polarised and hostile immigration debates, many felt a duty to defend Esol, and to defend migrants, refugees and asylum seekers.

For some, this meant taking inspiration from the successes of the Glasgow Campaign to Welcome Refugees from the early 2000s, when Glasgow became the first dispersal city for refugees in Scotland, in a government scheme that saw thousands of asylum seekers relocated to cities outside of London.

The campaign – led by political activists, many of whom were Esol teachers themselves – fought to unite the local community at a time of rising tensions, and to campaign for better services and resources for all.

In response to the recent attacks on Esol, some are organising to protect Esol provision and to refuse attempts by anti-immigration groups to divide communities. With initiatives such as Educators for All, Esol teachers are taking a stand to reject “racist campaigns that have targeted schools across Scotland”.

Katy Highet receives funding from the Carnegie Trust. She is affiliated with Stand up to Racism Sotland as a member of the steering committee.

Young people’s social worlds are ‘thinning’ – here’s how that’s affecting wellbeing

2025-12-19T13:43:05Z

AstroStar/Shutterstock

Between 2014 and 2024, the proportion of people aged 16–24 in England experiencing mental health issues rose from 19% to 26%.

This means over 1.6 million young people – enough to fill Wembley Stadium 18 times over – are affected by mental ill-health today.

Social media is often at the centre of conversations about what’s driving this trend. But while our increasingly digital lives are part of the story, the bigger picture is more complex. Young people are arguably spending more time online partly because the real world has less and less to offer them, as we’ve explored in a recent report for the Nuffield Foundation.

At the heart of their declining wellbeing is the hollowing out of the real-world infrastructure that supports healthy social development, with social lives becoming increasingly fragile and “thinned”.

This “social thinning”, a term we developed in research exploring trauma, includes fewer opportunities to play, take risks and build supportive relationships. This thinning, we believe, has worrying implications for development and mental health.

One of us (Eamon McCrory) is a neuroscientist who has spent years studying risk and resilience and brain systems that develop across adolescence. During this period, the brain refines the systems that help us understand others, form a clear sense of self and regulate our emotions.

Teenagers are wired to explore friendships, navigate complex social groups and practice handling conflict and rejection. These experiences help young people develop agency and independence.

But developing these abilities depends on spending time in a wide range of real social environments with different kinds of relationships, from casual interactions to close friendships.

When chances to practise these skills shrink, it can lead to loneliness and consequences for development. It can become harder to trust others, feel connected to peers or manage strong emotions.

For example, one study used the pandemic as an opportunity to test the effect of a significant reduction in social connections between teenagers. The researchers found that trust was low in adolescents during lockdown, and this in turn was associated with high levels of stress.

In other words, the evidence points to deprivation of social connection as having developmental consequences, and over time, an increased risk of mental health difficulties.

Thinning social worlds

The real-world experiences that support these crucial neurological processes have been steadily declining. Between 2011 and 2023, over 1,200 council-run youth centres in England and Wales closed, and £1.2 billion has been stripped from youth service budgets since 2010 in England. Meanwhile, parks and open spaces have suffered from underinvestment.

Investment in youth services has shrunk. Knights Lane/Shutterstock

Cultural shifts have also had an impact. It has been suggested that fears about safety and a desire to minimise risks for their children have produced a “risk-averse” parenting culture. In schools, rising academic pressures and an emphasis on achievement have come at the expense of play and exploration.

Research suggests that children today have significantly less freedom to roam, play outdoors, or gather with peers than previous generations.

The environments in which young people can explore, fail safely and develop social mastery have been radically narrowed. It is into an already thinning social ecosystem that digital platforms enter.

Digital help and harm

Despite many arguments to the contrary, digital spaces are not inherently harmful. They can offer connection, self-expression and community.

This can be particularly true for those marginalised offline, with research suggesting social media can actually support the mental health and wellbeing of young LGBTQ people. Our online and offline lives are deeply intertwined, with online connections often allowing us to deepen existing relationships.

The problem is less that young people are online, and more that online life has rushed in to fill the gaps left by a shrinking offline world.

Moreover, digital platforms are built for profit, not development. Young people are shaping their identities, sense of belonging and social status within systems designed to drive constant engagement – a phenomenon which is only accelerating with the advent of AI.

Social media platforms encourage comparison, performance and rapid responses. More broadly, the digital world can pull attention away from the real world and place young people under persistent pressure. It can also affect how – across a formative period of development – they make sense of themselves and the world around them.

Solid foundations in a digital world

There is growing recognition that preventing mental ill health means investing in the social foundations of childhood. McCrory is the chief executive of the mental health charity Anna Freud, which is making a significant shift towards prevention: prioritising building strengths,reducing risks and supporting wellbeing before problems become entrenched. And, of course, positive relationships are the cornerstone of healthy development.

To reverse rising rates of mental ill health, we need to reimagine and invest in the social scaffolding that supports healthy development, ensuring children and young people grow up in socially rich environments. This requires serious investment in youth services, outdoor spaces and community infrastructure.

Schools need more time for play, creativity and extracurricular activities, not just academic performance. Families need support to create shared experiences, from outdoor play to community participation.

Digital platforms are now part of everyday life, but they must complement rather than replace experiences in the physical world. By enriching, not thinning, young people’s social worlds and giving them places and relationships that build trust, foster agency and support connection, we can strengthen the foundations for lifelong wellbeing.

Eamon McCrory is affiliated with UCL (Professor of Developmental Neuroscience and Psychopathology) and Anna Freud (CEO)

Ritika Chokhani is currently the recipient of a PhD studentship funded by the Wellcome Trust, focusing on similar research areas.

UK to re-join Erasmus+ – here are six benefits of the European exchange scheme

2025-12-17T17:34:44Z

Drazen Zigic/Shutterstock

The government has announced that the UK will be re-joining the Erasmus+ programme. Young people will be able to participate in the scheme again from January 2027.

Erasmus+ is a European Union programme that offers opportunities for students, teachers, and young people to study, train, volunteer or gain work experience abroad. The scheme aims to improve skills, promote cultural exchange, foster inclusion and strengthen cooperation between educational institutions and organisations.

When the UK left the European Union in 2020, it also decided to withdraw from Erasmus+. The Turing scheme, the government’s replacement, has faced a lot of criticism due to its limited scope and difficult processes.

The news about the UK re-joining Erasmus+ will feel like an early Christmas present to many who have been campaigning for this over the past few years. Indeed, international mobility programmes offer a range of benefits to young people (and not so young people). They can play a major part in an educational journey.

Here are six benefits that the UK will be regaining when it becomes a member of Erasmus+ again.

1. Being part of a long established network

The Erasmus programme was founded in 1987. Thanks to its 38-year-old history, the scheme benefits from tried-and-tested processes and a wide-ranging infrastructure. Having funded and supported over 16 million people over the years, Erasmus+ is built on a wealth of experience and firmly established international partnerships. It’s an accessible and well-supported programme.

2. Generous support for people from all walks of life

Participants in the Erasmus+ scheme are exempt from oversees tuition and examination fees. They also receive scholarships to subsidise their travel and living costs, which makes the experience more affordable.

We often associate Erasmus+ with students spending a term or more at an overseas university. But its focus is actually much broader. It includes opportunities to study, work, train, volunteer and even develop careers in sports coaching abroad.

3. Cultural and personal growth

For students, trainees and educators alike, international mobility programmes provide opportunities to experience other cultural contexts and gain different perspectives. They enable young people to develop their adaptability and cultural awareness, and, not least, their language skills.

Erasmus+ can help broaden cultural awareness. franz12/Shutterstock

They are also an a opportunity to make lifelong international friends, and potentially even more. A survey of over 55,000 students found that a quarter of those that had taken part in Erasmus+ met their life partner during their time abroad.

4. Reciprocal benefits

A major advantage of the Erasmus+ scheme is that it is a reciprocal programme. Member countries both send and receive participants. UK educational institutions and the wider community gain a lot by welcoming exchange students from other countries.

For higher education, for example, having students from different parts of the world on campus gives local students the chance to learn about other cultures right on their doorstep. Everyday interactions in classrooms, group work and social activities help build understanding, curiosity and respect for different ways of thinking and living.

International exchange students also contribute fresh ideas, skills and life experiences shaped by their home countries and education systems. Beyond campuses, local communities and economies benefit from increased cultural diversity and global connections.

5. Improved academic outcomes and employability

Taking part in international mobility programmes is not just beneficial for personal growth, but might also improve academic outcomes and chances on the job market.

Some research studies suggest that undergraduate students who have participated in Erasmus+ achieve better results on average. In any case, employers value international experiences and the agility and open-mindedness that participants in international mobility programmes have often developed.

6. Closer relationships with international partners

There are a lot of educational benefits of rejoining Erasmus+, but there may also be wider political and economic ones.

While having more graduates with intercultural experiences will be beneficial in itself, today’s news may also be a significant step towards a renewed relationship with the EU. And building bridges is never a bad thing.

Sascha Stollhans does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Child poverty: how bad is it in the UK?

2025-12-17T17:34:35Z

komokvm/Shutterstock

The UK government recently unveiled its child poverty strategy, with the removal of the two-child limit on benefits payments as the centrepiece.

What’s sobering is how desperately the UK needs a strategy to address child poverty. At the end of 2024, four and a half million children – 31% of all UK children – were in relative poverty, meaning that they live in households earning less than 60% of the UK’s median income.

And 18% of all children were growing up in food-insecure households, without consistent access to nutritious food.

Ladywell, in Birmingham, has the highest levels, with 62% of children living in relative poverty. In some areas of Leeds, London, Bradford, Manchester and Liverpool over half of children live in poverty. Nearly half of Asian British and Black British children are in poverty, as are 43% of children in single-parent families.

This problem isn’t limited to the UK. Research by Unicef found that 23% of the children in 37 surveyed high-income countries live in poverty. But while relative poverty in these countries declined by an average of 2.5% between 2013 and 2023, in the UK it rose by 34%.

Within the UK, Scotland reduced child poverty in 2025, thanks to policies such as the weekly Scottish child payment of £27.15 for all children under 16. Payments also go to those expecting a baby and during the baby’s first year of life, to support the health and nutrition of mothers and infants.

One in five Scottish children still live in poverty, but Scotland has kept child poverty levels stable in the last decade.

In England, policies such as the two child limit and the cap on total benefits payments, combined with reductions in spending, have led to rising levels of child poverty. Unicef estimate that as these there has been a real terms decrease in spending of around £3.6 billion on policies that support children.

Free school meals can help families. Kuznetsov Alexey/Shutterstock

Another challenge families have is the high cost of childcare. This reduces the number of women who return to work after having children, limiting family income. While an increase in government-funded hours of childcare has reduced costs in England for children aged under two, for those parents of three- and four-year-olds who already received a subsidy costs have gone up, as they in Wales and Scotland.

Testimonies from children collected by the Children’s Commissioner for England lay the problem of child poverty bare. A 14-year-old girl explained how she worried her family wouldn’t have enough to eat. “We do try as much as possible to save up what we have,” she said.

“Every time I got [food packages] the food was always out of date and mouldy,” said an 11-year-old boy. “I know I’m poor but I’m not going to eat mouldy food.”

What works

The government’s recent budget included the significant step of lifting the two-child cap on benefits, which limited the means-tested support that families could receive from the state to the first two children in a household. The removal of this limit will lift around 500,000 children out of poverty.

The government has also pledged to reduce the time families live in temporary housing such as bed and breakfasts. From 2026, free school meals will be available to all children in families on universal credit. This is progress – but children will still slip through the cracks.

It’s estimated that a third of the children in the deepest poverty are from migrant families, who have no access to state benefits.

One strategy that we can see is working is the provision of free school meals for all children in London. Three in five (60%) parents surveyed said they were able to spend more money on food as a result of free school meals, while 84% said that the provision of school lunches had helped their household finances.

Further action on child poverty requires investment in community support services, such as community kitchens and community support centres, which address the root causes poverty. Communities and children should be at the centre of future policies and plans.

This article was amended on December 19 2025 to correct the frequency of the Scottish child payment from monthly to weekly.

Dr. Regina Murphy Keith is affiliated with the World Public Health Nutrition Association a registered charity for nutritionists and she is a Commissioner on the UK RIght to Food Commisssion