"Sir... I've forgotten my password"

Since starting the Digital Leaders training, I feel inspired, re-invigorated and my passion for ICT has returned. I am excited by the new tools I want to try out in my lessons, the cool projects I want to develop and the ways in which I want to make the school environment interactive and fun.
My enthusiasm has taken a real swiftie to the nethers this week. I start my lessons with the usual teachery stuff, starter activities (well, doing a uniform check and taking the register is a starter activity, of sorts), recaps of last lesson, lesson objectives for the current lesson. Then comes the sinking feeling as I say the words "Right, if you could login to the PCs please!". Some pupils put their hands up straight away, without any thought as to what it could be; some will make a token poke at their keyboards before uttering the dreaded words, others will make a genuine effort to remember before admitting defeat. But, all paths eventually lead to ..."Sir... I've forgotten my password". And so continues the Sisyphean adventure.

Each and every lesson at least fifteen percent of learners have login issues because of forgotten passwords. Bear in mind, these are passwords with no real length or format policy enforced on them.
Don't get me started on the problems I have with Hwb+ which enforces an appropriately strict password policy. The percentage of pupils with password-related Hwb+ access issues rises to at least 40% on average. in my school, Hwb+ access is clunky, at best, and each password change can take up to a minute. Worst of all, password changes are not necessarily a one-off issue. Repeat offenders present themselves, week after week after week.  For all the talk in recent months of teaching time being lost due to low-level misbehaviour (here), the amount of time my pupils lose due to an inability to remember an 8 character password of their own choosing, is equally dispiriting.

My predecessor in my previous school had a policy of charging pupils £1 per password change, which I was horrified by and quickly ditched; even I am thinking of a return to this draconian punishment (or should that be entrepreneurial endeavour?).

So, what's the answer? As a solution of sorts, I'm recommending to older pupils they store their passwords in a password vault on their smartphones. But, since these often require password protection, the irony is delicious. So, this is a plea. How do you get pupils to remember, week on week, an eight character (including one capital and one upper-case letter) password?

What's this?

I love Disney films. Their sunny disposition and feel-good message of good overcoming adversity. And don't get me started on the songs. Of course I have my favourites. The Toy Story trilogy, of course, A Nightmare Before Christmas, and the Tinkerbell* movies. But, these films, unlike so many of the other Disney classics, are not about stretching your boundaries, aspiring to be whatever your heart desires. Their message is of acceptance, contentment with your lot in life and dedicating yourself to being the best at what your role is. Not about aspiring to be better or different than you are, but to flourish and find fulfilment in your role and within its constraints. To be the best damn you that you can be.

My thoughts keeps returning to the dichotomy between satisfying the needs of an infirm education system and delivering a curriculum that supports and engages my pupils. I will always have to deliver lessons that meet the national curriculum. Doing this isn't quick and easy and leaves few opportunities for going off-piste. There is always be an end game I am working towards; end of Key Stage levels, giving pupils the skills they need to succeed in GCSEs.

Picture this conversation...

Head: So, Mr Lewis, your end of year 9 L5+ percentages are massively down on previous years, and fall below local and national levels. You've also fallen to the 4th quartile. How do you explain this?
Me: Yes, but my learners can now express themselves confidently and safely in this digital age.

Will that carry any weight? I doubt it. Will I be able to look myself in the mirror each night, and still have a job,  knowing I've made a difference to lives rather than provided a bunch of stats that show I'm a good teacher. Should I trust more in the intangible notion that I am making a difference? Does it matter what I think, when my head teacher and the local government are beholden to statistical data? If my effectiveness is only ever going to be measured by the results my pupils achieve, then is it wise to put the cart before the horse and put the learners at the centre of my lessons and deliver the curriculum they need rather than the one that's forced upon us?

So, how do I tick both boxes in my lessons?

This got me thinking about Sugata Mitra's extraordinary Ted talk from 2013. In it he says he doesn't think our current education system is broken, merely outdated. He is of course, correct on the latter, but I'd contest that it IS broken. It is and has always has been a behemoth that is fuelled by and driven inexorably towards quantifiable and measurable performance targets that benefit neither the learners, employers nor society. A self-serving machine; by effectively delivering the content the government dictates, I prove I am a good teacher; my school proves it is a good school, the LEA proves it is a good LEA, the government shows that it is a good government. What's missing this this though?
To move this behemoth from its current trajectory is near impossible, all it can do is continue along its path. New initiatives, curriculum revisions and national priorities come and go, but don't ultimately make a single meaningful difference. As inspirational as Mitra's vision of a school in the cloud is (and holy crap is it inspirational!), it's not achievable.Yet, anyway.

So, the new big question I have is this... How can we quantifiably evidence that our pupils are progressing and leaving schools with a skill-set that is desirable to employers and higher education. What even are the skills demanded by these nebulous entities?

Perhaps another question is.. Is it better to be highly effective in a broken system or to impotently rage against it? If it is truly impossible to effect meaningful change in our education system, should we strive at being excellent exam factories? Don't blame the player, blame the game. Or do we dare to be better? Can we succeed where Buzz Lightyear, Woody and Jack Skellington failed? Should I try to make my pupils fly, Space Ranger-like, or should I limit them to being mere toys?

*PS Whilst I will gladly watch any and everything Disney, the Tinkerbell movies aren't actually favourites of mine and have only been included to further illustrate my point.