If we do the maths, the target readership for this teen adaptation of Jacinda Ardern’s bestselling memoir A Different Kind of Power were at primary school when she was prime minister.

Those were the days when Ardern’s “stardust” – as her particular brand of political magic was described – saw her reach extraordinary heights of popularity, both at home and abroad.

But, as we know from the adult edition of her memoir, Ardern had always struggled with the self-confidence and self-belief we normally associate with effective leadership.

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Review: What If You Could – Jacinda Ardern (Penguin)

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Facing down this imposter syndrome informs the new book much more than the various events she had to contend with during her time in office. Dedicated to “the leaders of tomorrow – who just don’t know it yet”, it is more accessible and immediate, with much less political detail.

Ardern always wanted her original memoir to speak to her 14-year-old self, dedicating it to “the criers, worriers and huggers”. What If You Could expands on that, spinning her life experiences and challenges into a self-affirming guide to following dreams, being strong and ultimately creating a different kind of power.

No celebration of impossible standards

Deftly adapted by New York-based writer Ruby Shamir, the book spends no time dwelling on COVID. Ardern’s time working for Tony Blair in London is gone. Leaving the Mormon church is summarised in one sentence. But both books begin with pivotal bathroom moments.

In A Different Kind of Power, Ardern is in her friend’s toilet, taking a pregnancy test while waiting to learn if she can form a coalition and therefore become prime minister.

This time, she is in a high school bathroom stall before a debating competition, so nervous she’s cut her finger trying to open the jammed door. Cleverly, these different prefaces are united by the same passage:

My whole life I had grappled with the idea that I was never quite good enough. That at any moment I would be caught short, and that meant no matter what I was doing, I had no business doing it.

Instead, Ardern believed she was more suited to working behind the scenes. She wasn’t tough enough, was too “idealistic and sensitive” for the political front line.

And so the passages from the original memoir about her connection with Ernest Shackleton and the heroic age of Antarctic exploration are also gone. Despite her own achievements – one of New Zealand’s youngest ever prime ministers, a woman in a male-dominated world who gave birth while still in office – the book avoids any celebration of impossible standards.

Rather, she turns inward toward the psychological terrain, describing her feelings of being an imposter and the nagging fear of being exposed as a fraud.

Near the end of What If You Could, Ardern speaks directly to “everyone who doesn’t fit the old mould”. She encourages young people to channel the challenges of imposter syndrome into something positive:

In fact, all of the traits that you believe are your flaws will come to be your strengths. The things you thought would hold you back will in fact make you stronger, make you better. They will give you a different kind of power and make you a leader that this world, with all its turmoil, might just desperately need.

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Read more: In her memoir, Jacinda Ardern shows a ‘different kind of power’ is possible – but also has its limits

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Corrective mantras to self-doubt

If there is a whiff of the self-help genre here, it is also a welcome change from the kind of inspirational literature commonly aimed at young readers throughout modern history – heroic tales of courage, bravery, physical prowess and intelligence.

Aimed at encouraging good citizenship, often their goal was as much to encourage conformity, service and, if necessary, sacrifice.

More recently, however, books for young adults have tended to focus on individual agency, engaging readers by directly asking “what would you do?” The subjects may still be on pedestals, but the message is that you can follow in their footsteps and change the world.

To that end, each of the 17 chapters of What if You Could has a key aspirational heading that sets out a challenge and guides the reader beyond their own self-imposed limits: what if you could be sensitive and show you care, what if it’s okay not to have all the answers, what if you could face your fears.

The absence of question marks in the book’s title and chapter headings is deliberate. Each serves as a corrective mantra to wash away self-doubt.

Ardern affirms the power of traditionally gendered qualities such as being sensitive and caring. And she grounds her own progressive politics in the language of answering calls for change and doing things differently.

Her most personal feelings are explored in chapters about facing your fears, choosing your own path and following your passion, all of which address imposter syndrome and insecurity.

The final chapter echoes a currently fashionable self-affirmation catchphrase, “I am enough”, reframed here as “what if doing your best is enough”.

Ardern then returns to those high-school years and recollections of how hard being young can be. But adult life can be difficult too, she says, so you need to “be kind to yourself”.

No doubt there will be those for whom such notions – “you are not weak, you are human […] you are enough, just as you are” – will be reminders of why they resisted Ardern’s politics in the first place.

But in this time of global conflict, political cynicism and mean-spiritedness, they also represent a graceful, positive sentiment that world leaders – current and future – could do worse than adopt.

Katie Pickles does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Educators have long debated whether students should be “streamed” – or organised into different classes based on their academic performance.

Is it better for students to be learning with students of a similar “ability”, or a mix?

In Australia, most high schools stream students according to their ability, especially for maths. Streaming can also occur in the primary years.

New research from the United Kingdom suggests streaming can help some students. What does this mean for Australian schools?

Concerns about streaming

Education researchers have been raising concerns about streaming for decades.

Some scholars argue seemingly objective ideas around ability unintentionally favour white, privileged students. Students from minority racial groups and disadvantaged backgrounds are more likely to find themselves in the lowest streams.

Research suggests a student’s natural “ability” may be less important for academic success than a student’s background, or their motivation and approach to learning

What happens in the lower streams?

Students streamed into “lower” groups often end up doing lower-level work and miss out on the challenges they would need to develop more advanced skills.

The intent of easier work might be to protect low-stream students from repeated experiences of failure. But research suggests students end up stuck in a vicious cycle of low achievement. They get fewer opportunities to extend themselves, so they don’t perform as well and continue to get fewer opportunities.

Streaming can also impact students’ self-confidence. Some researchers have linked being in a lower class with students experiencing shame and not enjoying school.

This means streaming can widen achievement gaps already linked to social class and race. This concern has spurred “de-streaming” movements in New Zealand and Ontario, Canada.

In Australia, some schools have stopped streaming in a bid to be more inclusive, but streaming is still the norm.

A new UK study

Despite these concerns, a new UK study, involving Becky Taylor, one of the authors of this article, has just found high-achieving maths students in England achieved better results when streamed.

The study examined the maths results and self-belief of students in years 7 and 8. It did this by comparing schools (which were matched for background and other demographic factors). This included 28 that used mixed-ability grouping and 69 that used streaming.

It found streaming Year 7–8 students was beneficial for higher-ability students. These students made three months’ more progress in schools that streamed students for maths that those that did not. Streaming also did not damage the results or self-belief of students from disadvantaged backgrounds.

In fact, this study found students who were not streamed made only one month less progress overall than students who were, after two years. Students with disadvantage and students with low prior achievement made similar amounts of progress regardless of how they were grouped.

These findings were surprising because they seem to contradict previous claims streaming can harm some students without benefiting others. This new study can and has been interpreted as showing streaming benefits some students while creating no harm to others.

However, the findings do reinforce previous research suggesting streaming is inequitable and widens achievement gaps. The new study found high-achieving students made much more progress than low-achieving students when streaming was used.

What are the lessons for Australia?

Educators in Australia often look to the UK for policy and evidence in education. So they might interpret the latest findings as encouragement to stream students in Australia.

But we need to be cautious.

The teaching in most mixed classes in the study looked more like low-stream than high-stream teaching. There were no appropriate opportunities for extension. So the findings might not generalise to mixed classes that include challenging work.

Most examples of effective mixed “ability” maths teaching gives all students access to challenging, rigorous tasks, and teaches to the “top”.

The researchers also found a similar structure was widely used in all year 7 and 8 maths classes observed for the study. This involved teacher input, student practice, and a bit of feedback of the end. There was very little small-group work and almost no differentiation – where teachers vary their methods for different students’ needs. Research tells us small-group work and differentiation are important for helping students reach their potential.

Australia also has a different educational context. Many schools in the UK study were very large – Australia has many small rural and remote schools that can’t stream.

Finally, results also only cover streaming in mathematics, and it could be different for other subjects.

What now?

We encourage schools and policymakers to continue to approach streaming with caution.

Research still suggests streaming or mixed groupings can be done well or done poorly. It often comes down to the teaching – and whether schools keep evaluating how different students’ needs are being met.

Becky Taylor receives funding from the Education Endowment Foundation. She is an author of the UK study reported in this article.

David Pomeroy receives funding from the Teaching and Learning Research Initiative (TLRI). He is a member of the Kōkirihia implementation team, a New Zealand collective working to challenge streaming.

Olivia Johnston does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.