Why the RE teacher recruitment crisis is a problem

In the week that over a quarter of a million young people sit their GCSE Religious Studies exam, Paul Smalley analyses the crisis in religious education -demand for which is rising.

Paul Smalley

Paul Smalley is a Senior Lecturer in Religious Education at Edge Hill University and a Local Missional Leader in the Diocese of Liverpool.

Credit: Get Teaching

I could have laughed at Nick Gibb, the Minister of State for Education recently – but unfortunately, I don’t think he was trying to be funny. What caused my outburst of hilarity was a written answer he had given to a parliamentary question. The question had been asked by Catherine West, a shadow minister, and was enquiring about what steps the government was taking to ensure that recruitment targets for religious education teachers are met. As the daughter of a headmaster and a practising Quaker, it seems reasonable that she might take an interest in such matters; she is clearly aware of the recruitment crisis that is threatening the teaching of the subject in schools up and down the country. This awareness seemed to be lacking in the Minister of State’s response.

The first part of his answer was to report that the number of teachers remains high. And of course, he is correct – the number of Full Time Equivalent Teachers in England has remained fairly steady at around half a million for the last few years. What he didn’t mention is that there are over a quarter of a million more pupils now than there were five years ago. The pupil to teacher ratios in secondary schools has risen each year since 2013. Every teacher needs to teach more pupils. Last year the recruitment target for teachers was missed by some way and will be only slightly better this year.

Gibb’s answer was designed to suggest that there was no problem, nothing to worry about – when in fact there is a crisis.

But the question was about RE teachers specifically. And again, Nick Gibb chose his answer carefully, choosing the one year (2020/21) in the last ten when the recruitment target for RE teachers was exceeded – the year that the target was substantially reduced. In 2022/23 the recruitment target was missed by 25 per cent. On average between 10 and 12 per cent of RE teachers who train leave the profession within five years of training. This is higher than the average across all subjects.

Gibb’s answer was designed to suggest that there was no problem, nothing to worry about – when in fact there is a crisis. Teacher recruitment for all subjects is down 22 per cent from last year. However, RE stands out, being down a third of applicants from the last recruitment cycle.

Students often describe it as the one time in school where they can think independently about the people, events and beliefs in the world around them.

Why does it matter if there aren’t enough RE teachers?

Religious Education is the only subject which every state school must provide for all of its pupils. It has been this way since 1944 – but the subject has changed beyond recognition in that time.

It is a popular and increasingly important subject for our young people to study. Over the last five years entries to the GCSE have stood at around an average of 250,000 with entries to the full course GCSE rising by 30 per cent over the last decade. It is a subject which helps young people navigate the complex and dynamic nature of our multi religious, multi secular world. It has never been more important, recognised by wider society as vital for preparing students for life in global Britain.

Students often describe it as the one time in school where they can think independently about the people, events and beliefs in the world around them. It is a space where ultimate questions are discussed. Big questions such as: ‘Why do people suffer?’, ‘Is death the end?’, and ‘How should we behave in the world?’. In an increasingly secular world, young people need a space where they can explore these questions, gain insight into how Christians, members of other faiths and non-religious people respond to these issues and develop their own understanding of their place in the universe.

I wouldn’t go as far as some in saying that RE is an opportunity to de-indoctrinate young people against a prevailing secularising agenda, but RE is a curricular space where pupils can come to realise, that whatever their own personal background, someone’s belief or worldview, shapes and influences how they engage with and interpret the world around them. For some people these beliefs are fundamental; there is no place of neutrality on such matters – nobody stands nowhere. Pete Greig reminds us (in the book How to Pray: A Simple Guide for Normal People) that even those who state that they are not religious will often pray: there is a spiritual side to life, even if people fail to explicitly recognise it. If children are growing up in non-religious households, school may be the only place where spiritual matters are discussed openly and objectively.

High school pupils are now three times more likely to be taught RE by someone with no qualification in the subject than, for example, in history.

Teaching young people is a demanding job, and as someone who has been training people to teach RE in high schools since 2006, I know that teaching RE demands a particular skill-set. RE is multi-disciplinary, so it requires a teacher who understands how to think like a theologian, and a historian, a philosopher and a social scientist. It requires academic skills such as ethnography and literary analysis, but also the people skills to act impartially, empathetically and sensitively when discussing important and controversial issues. And all that on top of the skills required of any teacher – to manage behaviour, plan lessons and monitor progress for example.

However, such is the level of crisis that all too often RE is being taught by non-specialists, simply because there are not enough trained RE teachers. High school pupils are now three times more likely to be taught RE by someone with no qualification in the subject than, for example, in history. Of those who teach RE in secondary schools over half spend most of their time teaching another subject (compared to only 13 per cent of those who teach English and 27 per cent of those who teach Geography). These same pressures contribute to many schools’ RE provision simply not being good enough.

What can be done?

The first step for the government to take is to acknowledge that there is a problem – with teacher recruitment across the board. The teaching profession as a whole needs a boost – to show that teaching is an attractive career. Significant workload reductions and pay increases will help this perception.

But there is a specific problem with RE recruitment. Postgraduate teacher training attracts a bursary to teach Geography of £25,000. RE trainees receive no bursary. I have heard of well qualified humanities or social science graduates who have chosen Geography over RE simply because of this. In years when there has been a bursary available to train as an RE teacher, then recruitment has risen significantly.

But what might really make a difference is a properly funded National Plan for RE to ensure it is properly resourced and taught by professionally trained teachers.

For more information about becoming an RE teacher or supporting the campaign, visit: Teacher Recruitment - Culham St Gabriel's (cstg.org.uk)

Article

Assisted dying

Care

Comment

Politics

7 May 2025

4 min read

Assisted dying is not a medical procedure; it is a social one

Another vote, and an age-related amendment, highlight the complex community of care.

Henna Cundill

Henna is a researcher with the Centre for Autism and Theology at the University of Aberdeen.

Graffiti reads 'I miss me' with u crossed out under the 'mem'

Sidd Inban on Unsplash.

Scottish Parliament’s Assisted Dying bill will go to a stage one vote on Tuesday 13th May, with some amendments having been made in response to public and political consultation. This includes the age of eligibility, originally proposed as 16 years. In the new draft of the bill, those requesting assistance to die must be at least 18.

MSPs have been given a free vote on this bill, which means they can follow their consciences. Clearly, amongst those who support it, there is a hope that raising the age threshold will calm the troubled consciences of some who are threatening to oppose. When asked if this age amendment was a response to weakening support, The Times reports that one “seasoned parliamentarian” (unnamed) agreed, and commented:

“The age thing was always there to be traded, a tactical retreat.”

The callousness of this language chills me. Whilst it is well known that politics is more of an art than a science, there are moments when our parliamentarians literally hold matters of life and death in their hands. How can someone speak of such matters as if they are bargaining chips or military manoeuvres? But my discomfort aside, there is a certain truth in what this unnamed strategist says.

When Liam McArthur MSP was first proposed the bill, he already suggested that the age limit would be a point of debate, accepting that there were “persuasive” arguments for raising it to 18. Fortunately, McArthur’s language choices were more appropriate to the subject matter. “The rationale for opting for 16 was because of that being the age of capacity for making medical decisions,” he said, but at the same time he acknowledged that in other countries where similar assisted dying laws are already in operation, the age limit is typically 18.

McArthur correctly observes that at 16 years old young people are considered legally competent to consent to medical procedures without needing the permission of a parent or guardian. But surely there is a difference, at a fundamental level, between consenting to a medical procedure that is designed to improve or extend one’s life and consenting to a medical procedure that will end it?

Viewed philosophically, it would seem to me that Assisted Dying is actually not a medical procedure at all, but a social one. This claim is best illustrated by considering one of the key arguments given for protecting 16- and 17- year-olds from being allowed to make this decision, which is the risk of coercion. The adolescent brain is highly social; therefore, some argue, a young person might be particularly sensitive to the burden that their terminal illness is placing on loved ones. Or worse, socially motivated young people may be particularly vulnerable to pressure from exhausted care givers, applied subtly and behind closed doors.

Whilst 16- and 17- year-olds are considered to have legal capacity, guidance for medical staff already indicates that under 18s should be strongly advised to seek parent or guardian advice before consenting to any decision that would have major consequences. Nothing gets more major than consenting to die, but sadly, some observe, we cannot be sure that a parent or guardian’s advice in that moment will be always in the young person’s best interests. All of this discussion implies that we know we are not asking young people to make just a medical decision that impacts their own body, but a social one that impacts multiple people in their wider networks.

For me, this further raises the question of why 18 is even considered to be a suitable age threshold. If anything, the more ‘adult’ one gets, the more one realises one’s place in the world is part of a complex web of relationships with friends and family, in which one is not the centre. Typically, the more we grow up, the more we respect our parents, because we begin to learn that other people’s care of us has come at a cost to themselves. This is bound to affect how we feel about needing other people’s care in the case of disabling and degenerative illness. Could it even be argued that the risk of feeling socially pressured to end one’s life early actually increases with age? Indeed, there is as much concern about this bill leaving the elderly vulnerable to coercion as there is for young people, not to mention disabled adults. As MSP Pam Duncan-Glancey (a wheelchair-user) observes, “Many people with disabilities feel that they don’t get the right to live, never mind the right to die.”

There is just a fundamental flawed logic to equating Assisted Dying with a medical procedure; one is about the mode of one’s existence in this world, but the other is about the very fact of it. The more we grow, the more we learn that we exist in communities – communities in which sometimes we are the care giver and sometimes we are the cared for. The legalisation of Assisted Dying will impact our communities in ways which cannot be undone, but none of that is accounted for if Assisted Dying is construed as nothing more than a medical choice.

As our parliamentarians prepare to vote, I pray that they really will listen to their consciences. This is one of those moments when our elected leaders literally hold matters of life and death in their hands. Now is not the time for ‘tactical’ moves that might simply sweep the cared-for off of the table, like so many discarded bargaining chips. As MSPs consider making this very fundamental change to the way our communities in Scotland are constituted, they are not debating over the mode of the cared-for’s existence, they are debating their very right to it.