What’s the Point of Field Athletics?
It’s that time of year again. Across the country, in conditions that are a bit too cool and on fields that are a bit too damp, Athletics lessons are in full swing.
There will be few schools who do not provide comprehensive coverage of throws and jumps, not least because they are encouraged to do so by the National Curriculum. And equally few schools who have found engaging ways to deliver Field events. The red faces that were smiling and laughing in previous terms’ games are significantly more rare as they form their dutiful queues waiting for the chance to make a 5 metre shot putt.
Whilst games coaching provides teachers with endless opportunity for creative and inspiring delivery, there is typical dull uniformity surrounding throwing and jumping lessons. One line of pupils throwing at a time, wait, go and collect, pass implement to next wave in Zulu style, receive technical instruction aimed at making the implement go further, repeat as necessary. Mark and measure throws to taste. Record if necessary to ratify a world record or win a Two Star AAA badge.
The combination of justified concern for safety, predominantly static activity, dependency on technical information and woefully moderate performance standards makes for a dull learning experience. Pupil curiosity wanes rapidly, until time elapses and the equipment is collected for the dull trudge back to the changing room. Next week, it’s the same formula with a different implement. One or two events per week until the annual whistle stop tour through Athletics is complete, and embarrassment on Sports Day is averted.
Why is this uninspiring picture so resistant to change? Many of the developments in the teaching of Physical Education in recent years have either by-passed Field Athletics, are not applicable for safety reasons or are limited by facilities and equipment.
Outstanding PE lessons provide significant physical activity, offer individual learning, the opportunity for experimentation and demonstrate progress. The amount of activity in throwing lessons can be dismally low, and heart rate monitors would barely register. Events are unduly technical, making progress difficult, and performance is predominantly determined by size and strength, rather than learned technique. Progress is as limited as activity.
Ironically, it is often the cold and wet days that improve the experience. Improvised lessons and indoor equipment provide greater levels of activity and enjoyment. When the sun comes out, it’s back to one performer at a time in high jump. When Dick Fosbury developed his flop, he little imagined that it would become one of the few compulsory experiences in schools worldwide. Nor would he have realized that a bottom first variation of his technique would be widely deployed to clear a bar set at one metre. The spontaneity of running, jumping and throwing are constrained in a straightjacket of Olympic events, a series of unfathomably random activities, created by accidents of history.
“What is the point of this?” is a legitimate enquiry of many games and physical activities. The point of sport is its pointlessness, and the beauty of many games is clearly in the eye of the beholder. This universal teenage enquiry seems especially valid when used of many shot, discus and triple jump lessons.