Autonomy has a peculiar glamour in educational discourse. It sounds enlightened, progressive, humane, even virtuous. Give children independence and they will flourish. Loosen the reins and curiosity will bloom. Let them choose, explore, discover, and somehow the experience will alchemise into understanding. Supervision, by contrast, carries an air of mistrust. It feels fussy and faintly Victorian, as though the very act of watching might somehow diminish the child.
Autonomy flatters adults every bit as much as children. Professionals hear the word and imagine themselves elevated: trusted, liberated, recognised as masters of their craft. Autonomy promises dignity. It speaks to our desire to be left alone to get on with the work we believe we understand. Supervision, by contrast, feels like an intrusion. To be observed is to risk judgement. To be guided is to risk being corrected. No wonder autonomy has become such an easy banner to rally behind. But do we dress it up as principle when i…
