An Education Act: Built On Quicksand

A dilapidated house collapsing as it's precariously balanced on a crumbling foundation made of playing cards, symbolizing instability and fragility.

The shaky ground beneath the Schools Bill’s ‘suitable’ education

Imagine a team of builders proudly unveiling blueprints for a glittering skyscraper.

They cut the ribbon, pose for cameras, and lay the first stone. There’s just one small detail: they forgot to check if the ground can hold the weight. No soil testing. No foundations. Just lofty promises and polished speeches — a structure not built on bedrock, but sinking in quicksand.

Welcome to the Schools Bill.

This legislative monstrosity — dressed up in noble language about “children’s wellbeing” and “educational standards” — is in fact a dangerously hollow piece of work. It does what bad laws always do: uses feel-good slogans to hide vague, undefined, and unworkable demands.

And nowhere is this more obvious than in the Bill’s stated aim of ensuring every child receives a “suitable” education.

“Suitable means Suitable” — A Slogan Without Substance

Let’s pause there. "Suitable." It sounds reasonable, right? Who wouldn’t want a child to have a suitable education?

But here’s the catch: the Bill doesn’t define what “suitable” means.

• Does it mean academically rigorous?

• Does it include faith-based teaching?

• Is it based on test scores? Cultural alignment? Political acceptability?

No one knows. Not the Department for Education. Not Ofsted. Not even the lawmakers who drafted it. It's the legislative equivalent of Theresa May's famous line: “Brexit means Brexit.”

All spin. No substance.

A Law With No Definitions = A Law With No Limits

In civilised societies, laws are meant to set clear expectations. You know what you must do — and what happens if you don’t. That’s the foundation of justice.

But this Bill doesn’t tell you what qualifies as “suitable.” It leaves the meaning open-ended, handing enormous discretionary power to unelected officials and inspectors. A home educator, a faith school, or a parent can find themselves subject to scrutiny, suspicion, or sanction — without ever being told what standard they’re supposedly failing to meet.

It’s not just bad policy. It’s legislative malpractice.

This Isn’t About Standards. It’s About Control.

And that’s where the mask slips.

Because you don’t pass a national law demanding something, unless you know exactly what that something is — unless your goal isn’t clarity, but control.

The Schools Bill isn’t about raising educational standards. If it were, it would be working with parents and educators, not writing vague dictates and expanding bureaucratic oversight.

No — what we’re witnessing is an attempt to centralise control over how and what children are taught, especially those educated outside of state systems. Whether it's faith schools, private schools, or home education, the Bill gives the State sweeping power to judge, monitor, and override — all in the name of “suitability.”

But without defining that word, it becomes a blank cheque.

And who gets to fill it in? Not parents. Not educators. Not communities. But bureaucrats and politicians, based on whatever agenda happens to be in vogue.

What Responsible Lawmaking Looks Like (and Why This Isn’t It)

A serious Bill would start by:

• Defining its key terms clearly

• Setting measurable, fair standards

• Consulting meaningfully with the communities it affects

• Providing checks and balances on enforcement powers

The Schools Bill does none of this. Instead, it expects parents and schools to comply with an undefined requirement — and gives the State the right to penalise them if they don’t.

It’s as if Parliament passed a law saying: “Everyone must behave appropriately.”And when asked what “appropriately” means, they shrug and say, “We’ll let the inspectors decide.”

That’s not law. That’s authoritarianism wrapped in educational packaging.

Conclusion: When Quicksand Is the Foundation, Collapse Is Inevitable

In a democratic society, laws must be anchored in clarity, fairness, and respect for fundamental rights. The Schools Bill fails all three tests.

It’s a structure built on quicksand — vague in language, unstable in logic, and deeply suspect in intention. And just like any building without a foundation, its collapse is not a question of if, but when.

Our job is to make sure it doesn’t get built at all.