Under His Eye

by Nicole Dyson, CEO and Founder at Future Anything

In 1985, Margaret Atwood penned The Handmaid’s Tale as “speculative fiction”, a not-quite dystopia stitched together from real-world histories. 

For decades, it lingered on bookshelves as a literary warning. 

Then it became a critically acclaimed TV series. 

Then a Halloween costume. 

Then a protest symbol.

And while Australia has been insulated from many such extremes, the shadow is creeping closer; in our schools and in our classrooms.

Not with Gilead’s commandments, but with policies, platforms, and pedagogies that quietly chip away at the humanity of teaching.

Welcome to the age of educational surveillance.

Where “low variance” doesn’t just mean consistency, it means control.

Where a prescriptive use of evidence-based pedagogy becomes ideology.

Where curiosity is suspect, and compliance is king.

How Did We Get Here?

In many ways, the classroom has become the final frontier of a broader cultural phenomenon: quiet quitting.

Coined in the aftermath of the pandemic, quiet quitting described a growing resistance to hustle culture; the collective decision to do what’s required, but no more, and to stop performing unpaid emotional labour for systems that rarely gave back. 

It began in workplaces. But now, it’s echoing down school hallways.

Young people, and increasingly, teachers, are breaking up with education.

Not in one dramatic moment, but slowly, over time. 

A quiet distancing. 

A growing disconnect.

And when you look at the data, the writing isn’t just on the wall- it’s on the whiteboard, the attendance roll, and the staffroom door.

Students are turning away.

• Attendance is plummeting. In 2019, 74.9% of students attended school 90% or more of the time. By 2024, that number has fallen to just 59.8%. For Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students, it is down to 35.2% attendance at 90%+ levels. (ACRA, 2024)
• Engagement is flatlining. In the latest PISA tests, 77% of Australian students admitted they didn’t give full effort – the highest disengagement rate in the OECD. (Cassidy, 2024)
• Achievement is sliding. Our PISA maths scores have dropped from 524 in 2003 to 487 in 2022 – a learning delay of more than 16 months. Reading and science follow similar declines. Just 51% of students met the National Proficient Standard in maths; under 60% in reading and science. (OECD, 2022)
• “Ghost children” are rising. In 2024, an estimated 80,000 students were completely missing from school rolls – unaccounted for, unsupported, and untracked. (OECD, 2022)

Teachers are exhausted.

• More educators are leaving the profession early, citing burnout, micromanagement, and a loss of professional trust. (Heffernan, Bright, Kim et al., 2022)
  

The rise of alternative education.

• Homeschooling is surging. For the first time in Australia’s history, the number of students who homeschool has pushed past 45,000. (Jackson, 2024)
• Flexible learning programs are expanding. Every year, flexible and inclusive education programs support over 70,000 young people across Australia. (aafie)
• Virtual schooling is growing. Virtual School Victoria has seen a 63% increase in enrolments since 2019, reaching 5,942 students in 2024. (mcie)

It’s clear that these trends deserve attention.

When engagement is dropping, achievement is slipping, and trust is dissolving, of course we want to fix it.

But the real question isn’t if we respond.

It’s how.

When Consistency Costs us Creativity

Enter: the low variance curriculum. 

A concept born from a noble and worthwhile ambition – equity in learning and a reduction in teacher-workload. 

But somewhere between the intent and the implementation, we settled. 

Not for excellence. Not even for good. We settled for sameness.

And in doing so, we’ve served up an echo of what great learning could be.

When I first stepped into the classroom, the shared G Drive of resources felt like a gift; a much-needed invitation to stand on the shoulders of giants. 

It wasn’t about copying and pasting. 

It was a little like the pantry in MasterChef.

Need something spicier? Add some chilli.

Short on time? Grab a five-ingredients-or-less recipe.

But in all cases, the secret ingredient was Variance. 

Because variance unlocked the art of teaching and learning; the ability to contextualise knowledge for your specific learners. Meeting them where they were at; or when… I mean, Friday Period 4 always needed a little something different to Monday Period 1.

Variance is the moment when a student asks a question that takes the learning down a fascinating rabbit hole.

Variance is the permission to bring your full self to the front of the room, and in doing so, create space for students to do the same.

Low variance, when used to lockstep learning, creates a handrail for some educators… but, a ceiling for others.

When everyone walks in lockstep, we may miss the fact that the class in front of us is running, crawling, leaping, or spinning in circles.

Learning isn’t a factory line. It’s a dance.

And yes, sometimes it looks messy. But so does joy.

Sir Ken Robinson said it best:

We all want equity, but let’s not settle for mediocrity.

Research, Rigour, and the Risk of Reduction

Let’s look at (some of) the science.

Cognitive Load Theory (CLT) is one of the most cited theories in education. 

First introduced by Australian educational psychologist John Sweller (1988), it offers a powerful insight: that working memory has a limited capacity, and that good teaching should support rather than overwhelm it. 

CLT encourages us to reduce extraneous load and build knowledge incrementally, especially when students are novices (Sweller, Ayres & Kalyuga, 2011).

But, Cognitive Load Theory isn’t anti-inquiry. It’s pro-sequencing.

What it does say- very clearly- is that unstructured, minimally guided discovery can be ineffective if learners don’t yet have the schema to make sense of the task (Kirschner, Sweller & Clark, 2006). 

The emphasis is on sequencing, not restriction. 

Yet, in some schools, this nuance gets flattened. 

In these schools, CLT becomes an excuse to strip out challenge, to remove complexity, to avoid  open-ended inquiry – especially if it’s not “on the test.”

And, it’s not just CLT that’s been misunderstood, or misapplied.

Over the last decade, the Science of Learning™ has emerged as a dominant voice in education reform. 

Drawn largely from cognitive psychology, this curated toolkit has found its way into policies, and professional learning everywhere.

These are valuable tools. But they are just that: tools.

Even the creators of The Science of Learning are upfront about its boundaries. In the opening pages of the 2015 Deans for Impact report, they write:

It’s a curated toolkit- not a complete blueprint.

But somewhere along the way, this summary became scripture. And in some spaces, it’s being used to define not just what works, but what’s allowed.

The problem isn’t the science.

(Though, I have contemplated calling our Entrepreneur’s Odyssey ‘The Science of Entrepreneurship’ to see how it lands…)

The science is research-backed. And, evidence-based strategies should be sought.

The problem emerges when a single set of principles become a one-size-fits-all approach. When this happens, it stops being about evidence and starts becoming ideology. And then, rather than strengthen good teaching, the unintended negative consequence is that it inadvertently narrows the scope of what counts as good teaching. 

Meanwhile, Estonia, Europe’s top performer in PISA and a quiet powerhouse in educational reform, offers compelling evidence of what’s possible when content-rich curriculum and capability-rich curriculum are treated as partners, not competitors. 

Their national curriculum embeds eight general competencies (including self-management, learning to learn, communication, and digital literacy) across all subjects and year levels. 

These aren’t taught in isolation; they’re woven through learning experiences.

And the country’s Teaching and Learning Framework (TFL) takes it a step further, outlining a diverse set of conditions that make learning effective:

— Estonian TLF, digipadevus.ee

The framework invites teachers to think about the following when preparing and conducting a lesson:

• Give meaning to and set goals for the subject and tasks with students
• The student is the active party in lessons, not the teacher
• Activate prior student knowledge and experiences
• Does the lesson include plenty of questions and is asking questions part of the learning process?
• The lesson and learning process should encourage independent work and making mistakes
• Accept forgetting as a normal part of the learning process
• Let students practise spaced learning – to learn, forget, learn and forget
• Reading a text and watching a video is not deep learning
• Analyse both correct and incorrect answers with students
• Give students the opportunity to teach others in class and explain their understanding
• Give students opportunities to test their comprehension in the learning process
• Use various contexts and approaches when teaching
• Allow students to use focused and diffused thinking

Estonia’s approach works not because it follows one method, but because it balances what we know about cognition with what we understand about people.

And perhaps most importantly: it doesn’t compromise on academic outcomes. Estonia’s system delivers strong results not by narrowing learning to what’s measurable, but by broadening what’s meaningful.

Curriculum as Story: Stacking What Works

So, how do we design for both rigour and relevance?

We start by knowing our learners, and we use pedagogy for purpose.

I like to think that the best units of curriculum follow a narrative arc; weaving pedagogical strategies like storytelling.

Exposition

In any great story, the exposition sets the scene- it introduces the characters, the world, and what matters. In a unit of learning, this looks like intentionally creating connection and psychological safety: learning names, inviting student voice, establishing routines, and surfacing prior knowledge. These practices build strong teacher-student relationships; a strategy with one of the highest recorded effect sizes in Hattie’s research* (d = 0.72), and lay the foundation for every learning move that follows.

Adapted from Freytag’s Pyramid — a narrative arc for learning.

Inciting Incident

The inciting incident disrupts the ordinary. It introduces a problem, a question, or a tension that demands attention. In a unit of learning, this might be a guest speaker, an excursion, a provocative image, a controversial quote, or a real-world scenario posed as a “What would you do?”; all designed to ignite curiosity and give students a reason to care. These moments align with problem-solving teaching (d = 0.68), a high-impact strategy that boosts motivation, relevance, and critical thinking by positioning students as sense-makers from the start.

Rising Action

The rising action builds momentum, layering tension, detail, and complexity to prepare for the turning point ahead. In learning, this is where knowledge and skills are taught explicitly (where CLT and the Science of Learning shine): through modelling, worked examples, mini-lessons, guided reading, and deliberate practice. Strategies like direct instruction (d = 0.60) and deliberate practice (d = 0.79) are powerful here, they reduce cognitive load, support schema development, and give students the tools they need to think independently later.
But stories don’t end in the rising action- and neither should our pedagogy. This phase is essential, but should be transitional.

Climax

The climax is the turning point, the moment the protagonist must act, take a risk, or choose a path. In learning, it’s when the teacher shifts from sage on the stage to guide on the side, offering students the license to create. This is where learners are given choice and control: deciding how they’ll respond, what they’ll build, and how they’ll show what they know. Whether it’s story, solution, argument, or artefact, the learning becomes theirs. At this point, we’re not just assessing knowledge- we’re witnessing transfer (d = 0.86) and nurturing self-efficacy (d = 0.92), two of the most powerful predictors of long-term success. It’s the moment when learners begin to believe not just what they know, but what they can do with it.

Falling Action

Despite its name, the falling action isn’t about slowing down. The protagonist, now changed by the climax, must decide how much they’re willing to grow or change. In learning, this is the phase where students use feedback as fuel: refining, iterating, and shaping their work with fresh perspective. When feedback is timely, specific, and embedded in process, it shifts from telling to guiding, and becomes one of the most powerful drivers of growth (Hattie, d = 0.70).

Resolution

The resolution reveals what’s changed. In the classroom, this is where agency becomes visible. It’s the point where students share, publish, present, or reflect, not just to complete a task, but to celebrate their learning. A gallery walk, a class showcase, or a shared portfolio: the form matters less than the opportunity to hold space for recognising growth. When students understand what success looks like- a key element of teacher clarity (Hattie, d = 0.84), motivation isn’t just sustained, it’s strengthened.

Dénouement

The dénouement in a narrative is where the strands of the plot are drawn together to create meaning. In learning, it’s where students pause to connect the dots: What went well? What didn’t? What would I do differently, and why does it matter? These metacognitive moves (Hattie, d = 0.60) don’t just consolidate understanding; they sharpen self-awareness and prepare students to learn better next time. Because the most powerful kind of reflection doesn’t just close the story, it helps shape the next one.

What Happens When We Stack It?

Each of these pedagogical strategies has impact on its own.

But when pedagogy is stacked with purpose across a lesson, unit, or experience, they don’t just add up.

They amplify.

This is pedagogy not as prescription, but as choreography.

And at the heart of it?

Trust.

Trust in teachers to make the right move at the right time.

Trust in learners to rise when they’re ready.

“Better never means better for everyone,” Margaret Atwood warned.

“It always means worse, for some.”

But maybe not here.

Maybe when we move beyond the binary; beyond one strategy, one framework, one truth, we find something more powerful than a single method.

We find stories worth telling.

Because what if the best learning journeys aren’t the ones that follow a script, but the ones that invite us to write a better ending, together?

*Regardless of your perspective on Hattie’s research on effect size or not, it’s important to note that most, if not all, good science evolves. That’s why it’s so dangerous to isolate any single piece of research as the single source of truth; you risk the whole House of Cards crumbling down when (inevitably) a new truth emerges. Remember when doctors prescribed cigarettes to treat asthma? It wasn’t fringe- it was mainstream medical advice. Until we knew better.

About the author: Nicole Dyson

Nicole Dyson, CEO and Founder of Future Anything, is a multi-award-winning educator and entrepreneur, and a global authority on project-based learning and youth entrepreneurship. Nicole has received numerous accolades, including the 2023 ‘Gamechanger Award’ in Queensland’s 40 Under 40, The Educator’s ‘Most Influential’ list, and multiple business and education awards for Future Anything.

Nicole passionately believes that youth-led ideas have the power to bend the future and supports educators, schools, and systems to design and deliver future-focused learning that unlocks young people’s passion and potential.

Activate is Future Anything’s award-winning in-curriculum program. As a convergence of entrepreneurial pedagogy and Project-Based Learning, Activate allows educators to unleash passion, potential and agency in every classroom.

Find out more about Activate here

Subscribe to Future Anything’s regular e-newsletter to have resources delivered right to your inbox. You can sign up here.