Pedagogy, power & clarity: Bernstein’s challenge to explicit instruction

Over the past decade explicit instruction’ has emerged as one of the dominant models of evidence-based teaching and learning. From Barak Rosenshine’s (2012) Principles of Instruction to Greg Ashman’s (2023) The Power of Explicit Teaching and Direct Instruction, its proponents have advocated for structured and teacher-led instruction with an emphasis on modelling, sequencing and deliberate practice. Teachers are encouraged to make learning clear, reduce cognitive load and design lessons that ensure success for all learners (Hendrick & Macpherson, 2017; Clark, Kirschner & Sweller, 2012).

Yet years before these approaches gained popular attention, the sociologist Basil Bernstein was also examining how such pedagogy forms impact learners in the classroom. His concept of ‘visible pedagogy’ – in which learning expectations are made explicit and teacher control is strong – anticipated many of the techniques and strategies now celebrated in explicit instruction. However, Bernstein viewed these not just as ways to optimise cognition, but also as social structures that distribute access to knowledge and status.

Bernstein offers a valuable complement – as well as a challenge – to the evidence-based trend in educational training and development, especially in its science-centric configuration. He shares its concern for clarity and access, but situates these concerns within the sociology of education: this asks who defines legitimate knowledge, whose language is privileged by teachers (or instructors) and how pedagogy reflects the wider inequalities we find in society. Bernstein’s work reminds us that teaching is never simply technical or rationally straightforward; it is always social, moral and political.

It is important to note, therefore, that while Bernstein was writing about visible pedagogy (discussed below), explicit and ‘direct instruction’ were emerging along different intellectual lines in the United States. On the other side of the Atlantic, Siegfried Engelmann was developing the highly structured Direct Instruction Model (Engelmann & Becker, 1978), whilst Barak Rosenshine (1986) – and later John Sweller (1988) – grounded explicit instruction in cognitive and empirical (or, more precisely, applied science) research. Whereas these approaches focused on what works in classrooms, Bernstein – by contrast – examined what such pedagogic forms signify, which includes how they reflect relations of power, language and social class.

Pedagogy, power and knowledge

For Bernstein, pedagogy is never neutral or objective – despite the assumption from some researchers and edu-commentators engaged with, or advocating, the ‘science of learning’ that it seemingly is. Bernstein saw it as the mechanism through which societies distribute knowledge and – implicitly or explicitly, as well as intentionally and unintentionally – maintain control. To explain this, he developed the concepts of ‘classification’ and ‘framing’ (Bernstein, 1975/2003).

  • Classification describes how strongly knowledge is separated into subjects or domains.
  • Framing refers to the degree of control teachers and learners have over communication – what is taught, how it is taught and on what terms.

Where classification and framing are strong, especially in the classroom, pedagogy becomes visible: boundaries are clear, expectations explicit and assessment transparent. Where they are weak, especially in the eyes of the pupils, pedagogy becomes invisible: boundaries blur, control shifts to the pupil and the nature of success is often implied rather than stated.

In many ways, this distinction mirrors current debates between structured instruction and discovery learning – with advocates of the ‘science of learning’ often criticising the latter. Here, visible pedagogy resonates clearly with explicit instruction, with its emphasis on modelling, guided practice and clarity of explanation (Rosenshine, 2012; Clark, Kirschner & Sweller, 2012). However, whilst Bernstein would acknowledge this, his interpretation goes further in a way that the cognitive and applied scientists do not or – in terms of paradigmatic limitations – cannot: these pedagogic forms are not simply technical strategies; they are expressions of social relations that shape who has access to powerful knowledge.

Speech codes and linguistic access

For instance, Bernstein’s theory of elaborated and restricted codes (Bernstein, 1971) adds a crucial socio-linguistic dimension to this argument. Bernstein observed that different demographic groups, especially in relation to social class, use language differently. Middle-class families tend to employ ‘elaborated codes’, which are explicit, abstract and suited to the discursive demands of schooling and academic work. Working-class families, on the other hand, often use ‘restricted codes’, context-bound, shared and implicit.

Schools, however, typically reward the elaborated code. Pupils who already possess those codes through their discursive socialisation are advantaged; those who do not can find the expectations of schooling opaque and at odds with their norms and values; even an ‘alright Miss’ could be misconstrued as too informal an approach to authority. Of course, the biggest obstacle can be the hurdle of limited vocabularies, or codes, which make accessing academic content all the more challenging. This insight resonates with contemporary concerns about the language of schooling and the ‘vocabulary gap’ (Quigley, 2020). Like Alex Quigley, Bernstein recognised that access to academic language is fundamental to educational equity. Unlike most cognitive accounts, though, he framed this not as a matter of learning efficiency but as a question of social justice and power. It mirrors other core ideas within the sociology of education, including Pierre Bourdieu’s cultural capital theory (1983) or even Howard Becker’s conceptualisation of the ‘ideal pupil’ (1952).

Here, a one-size-fits-all instructional approach cannot fully account for the nuances of disadvantage and the myriad strategies and interventions needed to raise attainment across the board. These interventions cannot simply be reduced to ‘adaptive learning’ but will need to employ other forms of compensatory education, including a consideration of material and capital deprivation and how curricula and teaching styles engage with, respond to, and adapt to pupils’ needs in terms of curriculum content as much as pedagogical technique. This may involve employing lesson content, teaching techniques, or even courses that are out of favour in the current evidence-based climate (i.e., interventions may be sociological or philosophical as opposed to purely scientific in their evidence base; they may also be qualitative as opposed to rigidly quantitative).

Interestingly – and as a brief aside – this is one aspect of AQA’s A-level Sociology syllabus, which includes a compulsory unit on the sociology of education, that often resonates deeply with students. Regardless of their demographic backgrounds, it is one area – alongside Barry Sugarman’s (1970) notions of ‘immediate gratification’ and ‘deferred gratification’ – where consensus among the class tends to stifle debate. The fact that 17-year-olds can readily grasp and discuss such concepts is, I think, a testament to their credibility and enduring relevance.

Vertical and horizontal discourses

Furthermore, Bernstein later distinguished between ‘horizontal and vertical discourses’ (Bernstein, 1999). Horizontal knowledge is everyday and local, which includes practical know-how embedded in specific contexts. Vertical knowledge, on the other hand, is systematic and abstract, organised within disciplinary structures.

The purpose of education, argued Bernstein, is to enable intellectual and practical movement from horizontal to vertical discourse; essentially, from everyday our understanding of the natural and social world around us, to the specialised conceptual and academic frameworks that underpin the disciplines we teach in schools and universities and – in turn – that can lead to professional and occupational discourses and practices. This notion is not opposed to the recent knowledge-rich curriculum movement championed by writers such as Hirsch (2016) and Christodoulou (2014). However, unlike the rather simplistic standpoint that this knowledge can simply be taught, essentially told, to all pupils from all backgrounds, Bernstein’s perspective remains distinct – his concern was not simply what knowledge should be taught, but who gains access to the structures that define knowledge as legitimate. This raises questions about the relevancy of curricula, the practical opportunities it presents specific groups as well as wider issues such as ethnocentric content and the politics of the day (see, for instance, the differences between the citizenship curriculum under New Labour and the specifications for history and English under Michael Gove’s reforms a decade ago).

Bernstein and contemporary classrooms

What makes Bernstein’s sociology distinctive in today’s evidence-driven climate is its attention to context and power. I do not oppose or disagree with the ‘science of learning’ trend in educational training and development – one which is deeply embedded in the ‘Golden Thread’ of the Initial Teacher Training Early Career Framework (ITTECF) and the National Professional Qualifications that follow.

Nevertheless, evidence-based teaching often asks ‘what works’. To paraphrase many critics of evidence-based practice, Bernstein asks for whom it works and under what conditions (for example, see Biesta, 2007; Tikly, 2015). Bernstein’s analysis of classification, framing and speech codes reveals how even effective pedagogues can perpetuate inequality if the rules of participation remain hidden. In our rush to apply what works, or evidence-based (yes, informed) practice, perhaps we need to be more considered and academically holistic.

In this way, his work complements rather than contradicts the cognitive tradition and current popular trends in educational discourse. It reminds us that pedagogy is both technical and moral: an act of teaching and an act of inclusion. If explicit instruction tells us how to teach well, Bernstein helps us understand why some students remain excluded even when teaching is effective. In a policy climate preoccupied with measurable impact, Bernstein’s sociology of pedagogy brings us back to a deeper question – not merely how to teach, but what it means to teach justly.

It is not that any of the cognitive or applied ‘science of learning’ or what works evidence-based practice is wrong, it is just that it is incomplete or – perhaps – lacking if it is to be considered a holistic and wholly adequate approach to teaching and learning. This applies to ‘explicit instruction’ as much as anything else – although I wouldn’t expect many of its more zealous advocates to completely agree.

References

  • Ashman, G. (2023). The power of explicit teaching and direct instruction. John Catt.
  • Becker, H.S. (1952). Social class variations in the teacher-pupil relationship. American Journal of Educational Sociology, 25, 451-465.
    http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2263957
  • Biesta, G. J. J. (2007). Why “What Works” Won’t Work: Evidence-Based Practice and the Democratic Deficit in Educational Research. Educational Theory, 57(1), 1–22. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1741-5446.2006.00241.x
  • Bernstein, B. (1971). Class, codes and control: Vol. 1. Theoretical studies towards a sociology of language. Routledge.
  • Bernstein, B. (1975/2003). Class, codes and control: Vol. 3. Towards a theory of educational transmissions (Rev. ed.). Routledge.
  • Bernstein, B. (1999). Vertical and horizontal discourse: An essay. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 20(2), 157–173.
  • Bourdieu, P. (1983). The forms of capital. In J. G. Richardson (Ed.), Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education (pp. 241-258).
  • Clark, R., Kirschner, P. A., & Sweller, J. (2012). Putting students on the path to learning: The case for fully guided instruction. American Educator, 36(1), 6–11. https://www.aft.org/sites/default/files/Clark.pdf
  • Christodoulou, D. (2014). Seven myths about education. Routledge.
  • Engelmann, S., & Becker, W. C. (1978). The teaching of reading and spelling: A direct instruction approach. Prentice Hall.
  • Hendrick, C., & Macpherson, R. (2017). What does this look like in the classroom? Bridging the gap between research and practice. John Catt.
  • Hirsch, E. D. (2016). Why knowledge matters: Rescuing our children from failed educational theories. Harvard Education Press. 
  • Kirschner, P. A., Sweller, J., & Clark, R. E. (2006). Why minimal guidance during instruction does not work: An analysis of the failure of constructivist, discovery, problem-based, experiential, and inquiry-based teaching. Educational Psychologist, 41(2), 75–86. https://doi.org/10.1207/s15326985ep4102_1
  • Morais, A. M., & Neves, I. P. (2018). Revisiting the concepts of classification and framing: Social class, knowledge structures and pedagogic practice. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 39(6), 861–879. https://doi.org/10.1080/01425692.2017.1403236
  • Quigley, A. (2020). Closing the vocabulary gap. Routledge.
  • Rosenshine, B. (1986). Synthesis of research on explicit teaching. Educational Leadership, 43(7), 60–69.
  • Rosenshine, B. (2012). Principles of instruction: Research-based strategies that all teachers should know. American Educator, 36(1), 12–19. https://www.aft.org/sites/default/files/Rosenshine.pdf
  • Sadovnik, A. R. (1991). Basil Bernstein’s theory of pedagogic practice: A structuralist approach. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 12(2), 141–158.
  • Sugarman, B. (1970). Social class, values and behaviour in schools. Heinemann Educational Books.
  • Sweller, J. (1988). Cognitive load during problem solving: Effects on learning. Cognitive Science, 12(2), 257–285.
  • Tikly, L. (2015). What works, for whom, and in what circumstances? Investigating the potential of a critical realist approach to researching learning in international and comparative education. International Journal of Educational Development, 40, 237–249. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0738-0593(14)00116-3

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