Round Peg, Star Hole

Round Peg, Star Hole

AI Generated by Google Gemini

You probably know STAR. Situation, Task, Action, Result. It started as an interview technique, which made sense. Face to face, in a room with another person, it has a kind of logic. You tell your story. The interviewer can probe it. There is a dialogue.

Then someone decided that if STAR works in interviews, it should work on paper. Applicants started being asked to submit written examples before any human had spoken to them. Training providers began using written STAR narratives as evidence of learning. A tool designed for live conversation got stripped of its conversational context and turned into a bureaucratic artefact. Each step took it further from whatever legitimacy it had.

Youth work’s primary mode of learning is dialogue. Not templates. Not pre-formatted reflection forms. The unplanned corridor conversation. The observation that reframes how you see a young person. The session that went wrong and taught you more than the one that went right. It is emergent, relational, co-constructed. You do not walk away from a session thinking you successfully deployed Situation-Task-Action-Result. You walk away thinking about something a young person said that you need to let brew for a bit.

Written STAR demands the opposite. It requires you to extract yourself from the relational mess, flatten a lived situation into a linear sequence, and present yourself as a self-contained agent who acted on a situation rather than within it. It privatises and individualises what was fundamentally shared. The apprentice who genuinely learns through dialogue has to misrepresent that learning to prove it happened. They have to make it sound tidy, intentional, outcome-oriented, when the whole point of youth work practice is that it is none of those things in the way STAR demands.

The round peg, forced into the star-shaped hole, has to lose something to fit.

(If you were wondering whether that mangled metaphor has a saucy double entendre, that is your own dirty mind, not mine.)

Here is the question nobody asks. Who does written STAR actually serve? In a live interview, STAR gives both parties something useful: the interviewer has a shared language, the candidate has a structure when nerves might scramble their thinking. In a written application, STAR shifts the labour of sifting upstream onto the candidate. They have to pre-format their experience into the organisation’s preferred narrative before anyone has even read it. The institution reduces its uncertainty at the candidate’s expense.

In an education context, using written STAR as evidence of learning reveals what the provider actually values. Not the apprentice’s capacity for relational reflection or dialogic thinking about practice. Their ability to write a report that looks like competence in the institution’s terms. The form becomes the content. The mould matters more than what is being moulded.

This came from civil service recruitment, which got it from corporate HR. Nobody asked whether the technology carried assumptions that contradict the practice. STAR is not neutral. It embeds a particular view of action: individual, intentional, outcome-oriented. That sits uneasily with youth work’s view of action: relational, emergent, process-oriented. You do not have to be against accountability to notice that the tool you are using to measure something is not built for the thing you are measuring.

The STAR-shaped hole demands a STAR-shaped peg. If you are a different shape, if your practice is dialogic and your learning is co-constructed and your best work happens in the unscripted exchange you could not have planned, you have to cut bits of yourself off to fit. Or you have to write something that sounds like you fit, which is a different kind of loss.


Quick guide to STAR

  • Situation: someone told me to write this
  • Task: fill in the box
  • Action: made it sound better than it was
  • Result: someone said it was fine