Stephen Mitchell

One of the most persistent misunderstandings within education is the assumption that good oracy is synonymous with confidence. We often speak about children “finding their voice” when what we really mean is becoming more publicly articulate, more outwardly assured, more comfortable speaking in front of others. The child who eagerly contributes, presents fluently and answers quickly is frequently understood to be a strong communicator, while quieter children can easily be viewed as lacking confidence, lacking language or, in some cases, lacking engagement altogether.

The reality is far more complicated than that.

Some of the most thoughtful children I have worked with have spoken very little in whole-class discussions. Some have needed significant time to process ideas internally before attempting to express them. Others have communicated brilliantly in smaller social spaces, only to withdraw completely when the audience became larger or the social stakes felt higher. Equally, I have taught children who appeared extremely confident on the surface, but whose communication sometimes relied heavily upon performance, speed or dominance rather than listening, reflection or genuine exchange.

The difficulty is that schools are naturally drawn towards forms of communication that are easy to observe. Public speaking, visible participation and verbal fluency fit comfortably within classroom systems because they are measurable and immediate. They create the appearance of engagement. A child speaking frequently is often interpreted as a child learning successfully.

But communication is not simply about volume or visibility.

In many classrooms, participation becomes subtly performative. Children learn the rhythms of what successful talk looks like in school: maintain eye contact, project your voice, answer quickly, sound certain. None of these things are inherently problematic. In fact, they can be enormously valuable skills. The issue arises when these behaviours become the dominant definition of communication itself.

When that happens, some children begin to disappear from view.

A child who hesitates before speaking may not be uncertain at all; they may simply be thinking carefully. A child who struggles to contribute during rapid-fire questioning may communicate far more effectively through paired discussion, storytelling, role-play or movement. Some children need opportunities to rehearse language socially before they are willing to share it publicly. Others express understanding physically long before they can articulate it verbally. These forms of participation often sit beneath the surface of traditional classroom interaction and, because they are less immediately visible, they can be overlooked.

I became increasingly aware of this tension during my doctoral research exploring the possible relationship between devised drama and oracy development in primary-aged pupils. Across the project, there were repeated moments where children demonstrated communicative growth in ways that resisted straightforward categorisation. Progress did not always emerge through louder speech or more polished presentation. Sometimes it appeared through sustained engagement in group interaction. Sometimes through increased willingness to remain within a collaborative task. Sometimes through physical expression, improvisation or the gradual confidence to contribute a single idea within a socially safe environment.

One pupil, for example, rarely volunteered during whole-class discussions and was initially described as lacking confidence in communication. Yet within drama sessions, particularly when working through fictional role, he became deeply engaged in collaborative storytelling. He negotiated ideas carefully with peers, sustained focus for long periods and demonstrated nuanced understanding of character motivation and emotional perspective. Interestingly, many of these strengths were not immediately visible within more traditional classroom talk structures because the social conditions were entirely different.

This is where drama becomes particularly significant, not as performance training, but as a pedagogical space that broadens the ways children can participate. Drama creates opportunities for communication that are shared, embodied and exploratory rather than purely presentational. Children are not always required to speak immediately as themselves. They can think through movement, gesture, rehearsal and role. They can test language collectively before offering it publicly. The pressure of personal exposure is reduced because ideas can initially belong to the fictional world rather than directly to the child.

For some pupils, this changes everything.

What is often described as “confidence” is frequently context. A child may appear highly articulate in one environment and almost silent in another. They may contribute richly amongst trusted peers yet withdraw entirely in spaces that feel evaluative or socially risky. If we fail to recognise the contextual nature of communication, we risk constructing simplistic narratives about children’s abilities that quickly become self-fulfilling.

This matters because schools are not neutral spaces. Children gradually learn what kinds of communication are valued around them. They notice whose contributions are celebrated, whose voices dominate discussions and whose participation passes unnoticed. Over time, these experiences shape how children understand themselves as communicators.

If our definition of oracy becomes too narrow, we may unintentionally reward performance over authenticity and speed over thoughtfulness. We may also overlook children whose communication develops more slowly, more socially or through less conventional routes.

None of this is an argument against teaching children to speak publicly or confidently. Those opportunities matter enormously. The ability to articulate ideas clearly, advocate for oneself and communicate effectively in formal settings remains hugely important. However, if we truly want classrooms where every child can develop their voice, we need a broader understanding of what communication actually looks like in practice.

Good oracy is not simply about speaking well in front of others.

It is about listening, interpreting, negotiating, imagining, responding and belonging. It is relational as much as individual. It is shaped by context, identity and social safety. Most importantly, it does not always emerge in the same way, or at the same pace, for every child.

Perhaps the challenge for schools is not simply helping children become more confident speakers, but creating environments where more children feel that their voice has somewhere meaningful to go.