The coalition needs to improve the quality of childcare, not just the cost

There is a gulf in the quality of childcare available to parents in prosperous areas and those in deprived areas.

“I don’t need childcare, I have a wife.” This was one of the responses to a recent survey we carried out for our upcoming report on childcare. The government is right to worry about the equality of choice for women when attitudes like this still exist.  

Women’s employment rates since the birth of a child never reach the same level as men’s, even after their children are teenagers.  Yet, increases in female employment have been shown by recent analysis to be the key driver of increases in wealth among low and middle-income families in the last 50 years. Finding the right kind of high quality and affordable childcare, which makes a return to work financially viable, is rightly high on the political agenda as we kick start 2013.

Analysing Ofsted inspection marks from last year, Policy Exchange has today highlighted a gap between the quality of childcare available to parents across the country. Three quarters (77 per cent) of childminders were judged "good" or "outstanding" by Ofsted last year compared to only 61 per cent of childminders working in more deprived areas. This is deeply worrying as we know that high quality early years education improves children’s life chances.  Research has shown that in terms of vocabulary development, the poorest children are the equivalent of 16 months behind those in the highest income families. 

Our report also highlights that only 1 in 10 childminders and just over 1 in 5 daycare staff hold a qualification above A-Level equivalent.  We need to attract more bright graduates into the early years profession, particularly into these deprived areas which are most in need of high quality provision.  We should ensure that professionalization can be reflected in pay rates by prioritising early years education spend.

Despite citing quality as the most important factor in choosing a provider  cost was more important for low-income families. This increases the pressure on some nurseries to provide the cheapest childcare in order to attract parents.  If we want consumer choice to drive improvements, we have to ensure that all consumers, particularly those on low incomes, are genuinely able to make informed decisions based on quality and not cost.  Publishing Local Authority childcare provider quality ratings will allow parents to compare providers in their area alongside Ofsted ratings in order to make a more informed decision and better hold Local Authorities to account. 

Entitlement to free early years education is taken up less by the most disadvantaged families.  Equally, we estimate that 52,000 recipients who already apply for Working Tax Credit (WTC) and are fully eligible for the childcare element do not in fact claim it.  Furthermore, the HMRC have estimated that £265m was claimed erroneously in 2010/11, the majority in error, totalling 16.5 per cent of the total budget.  Simplification of the system for claiming childcare support by introducing online childcare accounts, which the childcare element of WTC, employer vouchers, and any money parents, friends or relatives wanted to set aside for childcare, could be paid into.  As a parent, you would not have to make complicated calculations about whether you are better off with vouchers or tax credits as the applications would be managed through one system and you could instantly access the most financially sensible choice.   

The coalition has an opportunity to address these issues in its response to the Nutbrown Review next week. Let’s hope the quality of childcare is at the top of its agenda.

David Cameron is pictured during a visit to a London Early Years Foundation nursery. Photograph: Getty Images.

Lucy Lee is head of education at Policy Exchange

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In defence of orientalism, the case against Twenty20, and why Ken should watch Son of Saul

My week, from Age Concern to anti-semitism.

Returning late from a party I never much wanted to go to, I leap up and down in the middle of the Harrow Road in the hope of flagging down a taxi, but the drivers don’t notice me. Either they’re haring down the fast lane or they’re too preoccupied cursing Uber to one another on their mobile phones. My father drove a black cab, so I have a deep loyalty to them. But there’s nothing like being left stranded in NW10 in the dead of night to make one reconsider one’s options. I just wish Uber wasn’t called Uber.

Just not cricket

Tired and irritable, I spend the next day watching sport on television – snooker, darts, cricket, anything I can find. But I won’t be following the Indian Premier League’s Twenty20 cricket again. It’s greedy, cynical, over-sponsored and naff. Whenever somebody hits a boundary, cheerleaders in cast-off gym kit previously worn by fourth-form Roedean girls wave tinsel mops.

Matches go to the final over where they’re decided in a thrashathon of sixes hit by mercenaries wielding bats as wide as shovels. Why, in that case, don’t both teams just play a final over each and dispense with the previous 19? I can’t wait for the elegant ennui of a five-day Test match.

Stop! Culture police!

I go to the Delacroix exhibition at the National Gallery to shake off the sensation of all-consuming kitsch. Immediately I realise I have always confused Delacroix with someone else but I can’t decide who. Maybe Jacques-Louis David. The show convincingly argues that Delacroix influenced every artist who came after him except Jeff Koons, who in that case must have been influenced by David. It’s turbulent, moody work, some of the best of it, again to my surprise, being religious painting with the religion taken out. Christ’s followers lamenting his death don’t appear to be expecting miracles. This is a man they loved, cruelly executed. The colours are the colours of insupportable grief.

I love the show but wish the curators hadn’t felt they must apologise for Delacroix finding the North Africans he painted “exotic”. Cultural studies jargon screams from the wall. You can hear the lecturer inveighing against the “appropriating colonial gaze” – John Berger and Edward Said taking all the fun out of marvelling at what’s foreign and desirable. I find myself wondering where they’d stand on the Roedean cheer-leaders of Mumbai.

Taking leave of the senses

My wife drags me to a play at Age Concern’s headquarters in Bloomsbury. When I see where she’s taking me I wonder if she plans to leave me there. The play is called Don’t Leave Me Now and is written by Brian Daniels. It is, to keep it simple, about the effects of dementia on the families and lovers of sufferers. I am not, in all honesty, expecting a good time. It is a reading only, the actors sitting in a long line like a board of examiners, and the audience hunched forward in the attitude of the professionally caring.  My wife is a therapist so this is her world.

Here, unlike in my study, an educated empathy prevails and no one is furious. I fear that art is going to get lost in good intention. But the play turns out to be subtly powerful, sympathetic and sharp, sad and funny; and hearing it read engages me as seeing it performed might not have done. Spared the spectacle of actors throwing their bodies around and singing about their dreams against a backdrop painted by a lesser, Les Mis version of Delacroix, you can concentrate on the words. And where dementia is the villain, words are priceless.

Mixing with the proles

In Bloomsbury again the next day for a bank holiday design and craft fair at Mary Ward House. I have a soft spot for craft fairs, having helped run a craft shop once, and I feel a kinship with the designers sitting bored behind their stalls, answering inane questions about kilns and receiving empty compliments. But it’s the venue that steals the show, a lovely Arts and Crafts house, founded in the 1890s by the novelist Mary Ward with the intention of enabling the wealthy and educated to live among the poor and introduce them to the consolations of beauty and knowledge. We’d call that patronising. We’re wrong. It’s a high ideal, to ease the burden of poverty and ignorance and, in Ward’s words, save us from “the darker, coarser temptations of our human road”.

An Oscar-winning argument for Zionism

Speaking of which, I am unable to empty my mind of Ken Livingstone and his apologists as I sit in the cinema and watch the just-released Academy Award-winning Son of Saul, a devastating film about one prisoner’s attempt to hold on to a vestige of humanity in a Nazi death camp. If you think you know of hell from Dante or Michelangelo, think again. The inferno bodied forth in Son of Saul is no theological apportioning of justice or deserts. It is the evisceration of meaning, the negation of every grand illusion about itself mankind has ever harboured. There has been a fashion, lately, to invoke Gaza as proof that the Holocaust is a lesson that Jews failed to learn – as though one cruelty drives out another, as though suffering is forfeit, and as though we, the observers, must choose between horrors.

I defy even Livingstone to watch this film, in which the Jews, once gassed, become “pieces” – Stücke – and not grasp the overwhelming case for a Jewish place of refuge. Zionism pre-dated the camps, and its fulfilment, if we can call it that, came too late for those millions reduced to the grey powder mountains the Sonderkommandos were tasked with sweeping away. It diminishes one’s sympathy for the Palestinian cause not a jot to recognise the arguments, in a world of dehumanising hate, for Zionism. Indeed, not to recognise those arguments is to embrace the moral insentience whose murderous consequence Son of Saul confronts with numbed horror. 

This article first appeared in the 05 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The longest hatred