The Compass Belongs to the Learner: Why Explicit Teaching Might Be Holding Us Back

I’m not sure if you’ve seen the latest video doing the rounds on social media. The ABC recently shared a clip from Australian Story about explicit teaching, framed as a way for teachers to ‘take back command of the classroom.’ Watch the clip here.

That word, command, hit hard.

Why? Because in a contemporary learning environment, where we strive to build student agency, curiosity, and co-constructed knowledge, do we really want to be talking about command? About control? About reclaiming the front of the room?

It made me pause. And it made me ask: Where does explicit teaching truly fit in contemporary education? And maybe even more importantly—should it?

Let me be clear: this isn’t a critique of explicit instruction as a practice. There are times when clarity, structure, and modelling are essential. Students deserve access to high-quality, well-sequenced instruction, particularly when building foundational knowledge. But perhaps the deeper question is: how is explicit teaching used, and who owns the learning process?

What if the “explicit teaching” students receive isn’t always from the teacher?

What if it’s from a podcast, a mentor, an article, a database, a YouTube video, or even another student? Then we’re not removing explicit learning, we’re simply decentralising the source.

What if the real skill is knowing when to seek it out?

That metacognitive moment, “I don’t know this yet, and I need to learn it before I can move forward” is gold. It’s far more powerful than waiting passively to be told what comes next.

What if teachers are designers, not just deliverers?

They design the provocation, the scaffolds, the environment, the culture of inquiry. They’re observing, prompting, modelling thinking, and curating resources, sometimes instructing directly, yes, but always in response to the learner, not in control of them.

So maybe the conversation isn’t about abandoning explicit teaching, but about reimagining it. From something owned by the teacher to something accessible to, and activated by, the student.

What does this look like in practice?

Here are a few ways explicit instruction can live within a contemporary learning environment:

• Mini-lessons: A teacher might begin a PBL unit with a short, focused mini-lesson on research skills, explicitly modelling how to use keywords, validate sources, or take structured notes, before releasing students into their own inquiry.

• Just-in-time instruction: During a design thinking challenge, students hit a roadblock in prototyping. The teacher pauses to demonstrate how to use a specific tool or technique, explicitly modelling a skill at the moment of need.

• Student-to-student modelling: A student who has mastered a mathematical concept records a tutorial using an app like Explain Everything or SeeSaw. Their peers watch it on demand, accessing explicit teaching from a fellow learner.

• Flipped resources: A teacher creates (or curates) short videos that explicitly explain key concepts. Students access them as needed while working on self-paced or inquiry-based tasks.

• Co-constructed success criteria: Rather than the teacher presenting a rubric, the class unpacks and builds it together. The teacher models examples and non-examples, making success explicit, but in collaboration with students.

In each of these examples, the teacher is still guiding learning. But rather than dominating the space, they’re using explicit instruction flexibly, when it serves the learner best.

In fact, I wonder if our attachment to explicit instruction is less about pedagogy and more about comfort. We've been conditioned to believe that success looks like test scores, neat outputs, and measurable outcomes. The traditional model, efficient, predictable, and standardised, feels safe.

But success for what?

If we define success as human flourishing, critical thinking, innovation, empathy, and adaptability, then we have to admit the current model is falling short. We’re still trying to measure 21st-century learners with 20th-century tools, in a system built for the 19th century.

And when we cling to rigid assessment regimes, we unintentionally send the message that compliance > curiosity, memorisation > meaning, and certainty > complexity.

So, where does explicit teaching fit?

In a contemporary classroom, it fits as one of many tools in a rich pedagogical toolkit. It’s most powerful when used intentionally, at the right time, for the right purpose, with the right learners. It can sit alongside inquiry, collaboration, play, and authentic problem-solving. It supports, but doesn’t dominate.

Students don’t need us to hand them knowledge, they need the skills, dispositions, and confidence to seek it, navigate it, question it, and apply it meaningfully. And yes, they need guidance. They need teachers who know when to step in and when to step back.

And that’s the real challenge: letting go.

Letting go of the illusion of control. Letting go of being the expert at the front. Letting go of the idea that safety lies in certainty, when in fact, it’s in trust. The kind of trust that allows learners to take risks. And teachers, too.

Because if we’re not careful, our grip on traditional methods will slowly squeeze out the very things we say we value most: curiosity, creativity, and joy.

So what do we need instead?

We need brave school cultures where teachers feel safe enough to take risks. We need leaders who value depth over data, who nurture unlearning as a sign of growth. And beyond our schools, we need families and communities who walk with us, understanding that when schools shift, it’s not because we’ve lost our way, but because we’re finally finding it.

Contemporary learning doesn’t mean there’s no place for explicit teaching.

It just means the student, not the teacher, may hold the compass.

And maybe that’s where real learning begins.

Mel Evans, Co-Founder, The EduShift Collective

Curious about how this thinking could evolve in your school?

At The EduShift Collective, we work alongside schools to explore contemporary learning, support pedagogical transformation, and co-design professional learning that honours both evidence and innovation. If you’re ready to shift the conversation, or the compass, we’d love to walk with you.