School children or MPs: who works the most?

You guessed it – it’s the kids – who work 310 hours more than MPs.

As Michael Gove continues his personal mission to make British schools a little more work-house like and less of a national handicap in the “global race” to nowhere, Margaret Hodge has suggested MPs might take a look at their own work habits. “It feels as if we are hardly working,” she told the Guardian. “Members of the public would be forgiven for thinking that it is MPs who are lazy and that it is parliament that is failing to provide good value for money.”

A little comparison is in order. This year the Commons are expected to sit for fewer than 140 days. During the 2010-2012 Session, the House sat for a total of 2,342 hours and 25 minutes, which comes to 296 days over two years. During the same period, school children spent a total of 2,660 hours in school, a total of 380 days.

That’s 310 hours and 84 days more than MPs.

The Lib Dem transport minister Norman Baker responded defensively to Hodge’s claim. “Some MPs work bloody hard all year round,” he said. Edward Garnier, Conservative MP for Harborough, argued that Hodge's claim select committees have inadequate hours to carry out their business is erroneous. “If she [Hodge] wants her committee to convene, they should be allowed to whenever they like. They do not need the house to be sitting to do so.”

Presumably, when the teachers’ unions make the same argument, the effect will be derided by an Education Secretary who keenly ignores the recommendations for shorter school days, increased flexibility and more support for teachers, which come from our Scandinavian neighbours, opting instead to lionise nations with scantly regulated school systems in East Asia.

The hours quoted above are based on my own comprehensive school's (that is to say, the most common type of school in Britain), which are from 8.20am – 3.20pm every day, 39 weeks a year (minus 5 teacher training days). This does not did not include extracurricular activities, breakfast or after school clubs, homework, revision and the rest.

Some students work bloody hard all year round, after all.

Hard at work - Michael Gove. Photo: Getty.

Philip Maughan is a freelance writer in Berlin and a former Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.