"Is this above the level of detail we teach?"

"Are we overcomplicating this?"

"Do we need to be this specific?"

These are the three most frequently-asked questions that the stylus team and I raise when writing marking policy — and there’s a short (albeit not simple) answer for each one.

Yes, it is above the level of detail we teach.

No, we are not overcomplicating it.

Yes, we do need to be this specific.

As Hannah, our Director of Schools at stylus, discussed in her recent video about marking policy, there are often high levels of disagreement from different teachers marking the same piece of work. This may be the fault of:

• Subjective skills

• Ambiguous language used in the TAF (‘beginning to’, ‘mostly’… we’re looking at you)

• Gaps in teacher subject knowledge

• Undefined rules in the English language (is it James’ giant peach or James’s giant peach?)

Although there is an argument for each of the above, we believe a large part of the blame can be pinned on something else entirely: lack of specificity in marking policy.

Why is specificity important?

When we look at each criterion we want children to meet, on the surface, the rules seem pretty straightforward. Let’s take apostrophes for contraction, for example:

The rule:

If you are joining two words together, replace the missing letter/s with an apostrophe.

Examples: 

Do not → don’t

Should have → should’ve

They are → they’re

Errors: 

Not replacing the missing letter with an apostrophe (e.g. dont)

Placing the apostrophe in the wrong place (e.g. do’nt)

Using an apostrophe but not omitting the letter (e.g. dono’t or don’ot)

Simple, right? But what about when a child uses an apostrophe in a seemingly random word? Hel’met. Dodge’ball. Ready’to’eat. Is this an error in apostrophes for contractions? Is this an error in apostrophes for possession? Is this an error in hyphens? Is this an error in spelling?

As much as we can plan for misconceptions and address them as and when they come up, there will always be some that we just do not see coming. How can teachers across the nation be expected to agree upon an approach towards these errors if they cannot predict that these errors will be made in the first place?

That’s where stylus comes in, and that’s why our marking policy’s key ingredient is specificity. This doesn’t just include legislating for all possible errors; it’s equally as important that we specify what counts as a successful example of demonstrating a skill too. The more detail we can include within our policy, the more consistent our AI feedback will be.

Some (specific) examples

A part of grammar that proves to demand specificity is words that fall into more than one word class and therefore function differently in different contexts. For example:

1. ‘My favourite part of bedtime is reading a book.’

This sentence uses the auxiliary verb ‘to be’ followed by a verb ending in -ing, so I can tick ‘uses progressive tense’ off my list, right? Wrong. The word ‘reading’ in this sentence isn’t actually functioning as a verb — it’s functioning as a noun. This little trick is called a gerund and appears more frequently in texts than you might have previously noticed. To be even more granular:

The impact on our policy: gerunds count as neither successful examples nor errors of using the progressive tense.

2. ‘Darwin was finished.’

Is this an example of using the simple tense? No —  the simple tense follows the pattern 'subject + verb' whereas this sentence includes the auxiliary verb ‘to be’. Does that mean it’s an example of using the progressive tense? No — the progressive tense requires a verb ending in -ing, not -ed. Perhaps it’s an example of using the passive voice? No — the subject (Darwin) comes before the verb. Upon much pondering, it dawned on me that the word ‘finished’ in this sentence isn’t functioning as a verb at all — it’s functioning as an adjective.

The impact on our policy: verbs acting as adjectives count as neither successful examples nor errors of any form of tense.

3. ‘Evolution is when a species adapts over time.’

Moving on from incognito verbs, let’s put the word ‘when’ under the microscope. ‘When’ falls into two word classes: adverbs and subordinating conjunctions. Which part of speech is it functioning as in this example? It cannot be a subordinating conjunction as it does not follow a main clause — but it also cannot be an adverb as it’s not modifying a verb. With much thought and discussion amongst the stylus English team, we came to the conclusion that it’s actually functioning as a relative adverb at the head of a relative clause (the relative clause being ‘when a species adapts over time’).

The impact on our policy: the word ‘when’ following the intransitive verb ‘to be’ counts neither as a successful example nor an error of using subordinating conjunctions.

4. ‘The shop was indeed built from bricks the colour of midnight, bricks that shimmered and sparkled under the glow of the gas streetlamps.’

My final cross-word-class conundrum is a direct quote from a KS2 favourite: The Nowhere Emporium. What is the function of the word ‘that’ in this sentence? It cannot be a subordinating conjunction as it does not introduce the object of the verb. ‘He thinks that you are pretty.’ What does he think? That you are pretty. ‘That’ as a subordinating conjunction can also be omitted from sentences and still make sense — if we omit ‘that’ from our example, we (accidentally) create a case of comma splicing:

‘The shop was indeed built from bricks the colour of midnight, bricks shimmered and sparkled under the glow of the gas streetlamps.’

Similar to ‘when’ from the previous example, ‘that’ is functioning as a relative pronoun at the head of a relative clause.

The impact on our policy: the word ‘that’ only counts as a successful example of using subordinating conjunctions if it a) introduces the object of the verb and b) can be omitted without changing the intended meaning.

Turning subjectivity into objectivity

Let’s park grammar for now and circle back to an earlier point: subjective skills can be a source of disagreement between teachers. Some key compositional criteria, such as character descriptions, atmosphere and purposeful dialogue, are often judged using a ‘gut feeling’ rather than being based upon anything concrete. Enter marking policy: stringent, detailed and, most importantly, objective, leaving no room for disagreement. Seems impossible for those more subjective skills, right? Not at stylus.

Creating atmosphere within narratives

It’s a word mentioned in the Primary National Curriculum once. It doesn’t even warrant its own objective — it sits as one skill listed amongst three others:“in narratives, describing settings, characters and atmosphere and integrating dialogue to convey character and advance the action”

What’s worse, we are given no indication of how to teach it nor what ‘counts’ as a good example. It’s no wonder that teachers disagree; it sounds pretty subjective to me.

However, it’s important to consider why we teach children to build atmosphere in the first place. Yes, we know we must teach it because it features within the National Curriculum ― but let’s take a step back from our writing checklist. As English teachers, we are lovers of the written word. We should want to teach atmosphere because we know just how big of an impact it can have on a piece of writing; it can take a lacklustre text and transform it into a literary masterpiece. We may disagree on our favourite pieces of literature but there is no denying that a writer has or hasn’t created an atmospheric narrative. 

When writing (supposedly) subjective policy, our Director of Schools, Hannah, says that being pushed to define errors as well as successful examples is what helps her to understand why one piece of writing is better than another.

“She stepped out of the car and walked towards the trees.”

Did this child create atmosphere? No — we have no idea what the mood of the character is nor how we are supposed to feel as the reader. Now, add an adverb to the sentence:

“She stepped out of the car and walked tensely towards the trees.”

Did this child create atmosphere? Yes — they told the reader that the character felt ‘tense’ in his action. Next, place that sentence in its wider context:

“Their end-of-summer picnic had become something of an annual tradition. Joe brought the crisps, Laura brought the drinks and Hamish brought the sandwiches. All that was left was for Nadia to bring the gang’s favourite doughnuts from the local bakery. What a glorious feast it would be! Luckily, Nadia had managed to nab a ride to the park with her older sister. She stepped out of the car and walked tensely towards the trees. Her belly rumbled with hunger as she waved excitedly at her friends in the distance.”

Did this child create atmosphere? Yes — but it does not match the events taking place. Why is Nadia walking tensely towards what has otherwise been described as a happy picnic? This would therefore be defined as an error under our marking policy.

Some may argue that directly referring to the mood in this way is not an effective way to build atmosphere — and stylus would agree. This is why we’ve taken specificity to the next level by splitting the single criterion ‘creates atmosphere’ into two criteria: ‘basic’ and ‘description’. Don’t forget that this is a single word within the National Curriculum. You can only imagine how granular we’ve had to be with sentence demarcation…

So, what is a ‘descriptive’ atmosphere?

Most teachers will be familiar with the phrase ‘show, not tell’. This encapsulates everything that we would expect from a higher-level atmosphere.

“Jenny walked happily down the corridor, confident that it was all going to work out.”

The adverb ‘happily’ tells us how the character feels — but what if the writer showed us instead? Isn’t this, after all, what creating an atmosphere is: building an emotion within the reader without ever explicitly naming that emotion?

“Jenny skipped down the corridor, leaping up to tap the top of each door frame. 'It's all going to work out!' she sang to herself as she went.”

In this version, the dialogue and verb choices (skipped, leaping, sang) create a happy, positive atmosphere.

“Jenny lumbered down the corridor, dragging her bag behind her. “It’s ruined. Everything is ruined,” she sighed to herself as she went.”

In this version, the dialogue and verb choices (lumbered, dragging, sighed) create a despairing, negative atmosphere.

“Jenny trudged down the corridor, dragging her bag behind her like a wounded animal. “It’s — it’s all ruined.””

In this version, it’s the onomatopoeia (trudged), simile (like a wounded animal) and dash interrupting the flow of dialogue that create the same despairing, negative atmosphere.

There’s no one way to build atmosphere — but, as we’ve tried and tested here at stylus, there is a wrong way. Consider this example:

“Jenny trudged down the corridor, leaping up to tap the top of each door frame. 'It's all going to work out!' she sang to herself as she went."

The juxtaposition of the heavy, negative verb ‘trudged’ used alongside the light, positive verb “sang” makes the atmosphere unclear and inconsistent. Just like describing a happy picnic as ‘tense’ would be marked as an error for ‘basic atmosphere’, this contradiction would be marked as an error for ‘descriptive atmosphere’ — as would referencing sunshine in a tale about a day where everything goes wrong, as would using a series of long, complex sentences to describe a fast-paced race. Defining these errors has moved mountains in our path to objectivity amongst a seemingly subjective curriculum.

What is there to gain from such specificity?

By virtue of writing such rigorous, detailed marking policy, we can generate rigorous, detailed feedback. Let’s face it — if a child is making an error, it’s highly unlikely they know that what they’re doing is wrong. This means that generic feedback like “fix your possessive apostrophes” falls on deaf ears. We need to be more specific. What was it about possessive apostrophes that they struggled with? Did they:

Not use apostrophes at all?Misplace them in plural nouns?Use them before the -s in plural nouns, e.g. pencil’s?Use them in words ending in an -s, no matter the word class, e.g. jump’s?Use them in possessive pronouns, e.g. her’s, their’s?Use them in words following possessive pronouns, e.g. her book’s, their coffee’s?Write it’s instead of its to indicate that something belongs to it?

Without a firm grasp of the child’s error, how can we help them to understand their mistake or begin to correct it? It goes without saying that teachers would love to be able to provide this level of detail for every child in their class — but the reality is that there isn’t enough time in the world. That’s why we’ve built a team of expert teachers at stylus to delve into the nitty-gritty in order to deliver AI-generated feedback that recognises the intricacies that children can include within their writing. In other words, so that you don’t have to.

Less time sat at your desk (or, let’s face it, kitchen table) reading 30 pieces of writing and more time planning to address a whole-class misconception. Less time finding evidence and ‘tick-boxing’ and more time helping the children in your class grow as writers. Less time manually tracking progress and more time making a difference.

If you’re interested in becoming one of our partner schools, contact us to find out how our KS2 service works. We use AI to take the work out of written feedback — teachers deserve weekends.