All Pākeha teachers should be tauira ō te reo Māori.

“We know Māori students do much better when education reflects and values their identity, language and culture”. (Ministry of Education 2013, p.6).

Introduction

Professional standards for teachers do not currently have concrete expectation for cultural relevance for rangatahi Māori (Milne, 2017). Initiatives like Tātaiako provide cultural standards for teachers that prove excellent dust collectors in resource rooms nationwide, or are left strewn across the desk in tertiary teacher training programs. Policies such as Ka Hikitia, as noted by Anne Milne (2017), are helpful in theory, however hold a narrow view of what achievement looks like for Māori (Hutchings, Barnes, Taupo, Bright, Pihama & Lee, 2012). Ka Hikitia has proven to be both poorly implemented and having overarching gaps which under-resourced (among other things) teachers appear to find too burdensome to investigate (Milne, 2017). In studies conducted by the Children’s Commission, rangatahi note the limited ways in which Pākehā report achievement, and how it does not encompass whānau or hauora (2018). There were numerous mentions of feeling love for kura when tikanga Māori was interwoven into the framework; love for other tauira; and love for teachers who went the extra mile to make them feel valued as Māori (Children’s Commission, 2018). What this shows is how inextricably linked te ao Māori is with marutau, waiora, and whanaungatanga, and the barriers which colonising frameworks place upon Māori-centric success. Subsequently, the continued reporting of “underachievement” of Māori highlights the need for embedded practice instead of teacher performative efforts using te ao Māori as a tool to illustrate “cultural competency” (Hutchings et al, 2012). For rangatahi Māori to have āhuru mōwai in current mainstream education seems nigh impossible with the current lack of cultural engagement from tauiwi teachers, and colonial barriers through structural racism in education. What is needed in mainstream education training is a compulsory learning of te reo Māori, long term and interwoven engagement with te ao Māori within coursework, and location-based investigations into hegemonic cultural disparities.

History

The National Advisory Committee of Māori Education (NACME) initially did not have any Māori members, and from 1955 into the 1970’s continued to be a Pākehā-led interpretation of what Māori needed in education (Tomlins-Jahnke & Warren, 2011). When Māori became members of the board, the ideals of the collective moved from the deficit, parent based, Māori faulted view that te ao Māori and Māori culture was causing the gap in achievement, but to a lack of relevance and reflection of Māori in mainstream education (Tomlins-Jahnke & Warren, 2011, p.28). Whilst this was a step in the right direction, it did not address Māori learning as Māori, instead Māori learning in a multicultural context that did not recognise the rangatiratanga of tangata whenua and te reo as a taonga. These were ultimately seen as being “up for grabs” and Pākeha led and driven, paving the way for tokenistic expressions of attempting “cultural competency” (Tomlins-Jahnke & Warren, 2011). Tomlins-Jahnke & Warren note how Ka Hikitia “called attention to unlocking Māori potential by challenging the very system that has previously undermined the life chances of Māori children (p. 28). As discussed, they also note the challenges of its implementation into widespread and commonplace use, such as the belief that equity for Māori means that tauiwi will miss out. The dangers of these race-based one for all approaches is that the needs of Māori are overlooked in favour of the statistical norm (namely Pākehā) (Tomlins-Jahnke & Warren, 2011).

Freire identified the first step of change, awareness of the inequity, as critical consciousness through anarchy (1993). He notes that through a disruption of the status quo (in this instance a lack of cultural relevance, structural racism, and white supremacy in education) as an expression of self-actualisation for Māori (1993, p.10). He names the role of the colonisers (in this case the Pākehā majority) as shifting the framework from an authoritive possession of knowledge, to a co-intentional education where cooperative learning takes place (1993, p.19). Through recreating this knowledge, and the understanding of colonialism within education in mainstream settings, the narrative can change, and thus a power shift can occur (Freire, 1993, p.43). Peter Cleave’s 1989 publication outlines the Picot Report’s suggestion of how there is an imminent need for a “devolution from state to community rangatiratanga in relation to their governance over the education of tamariki and rangatahi” (p.66). Cleave pre-empted the emergence of charter schools and the popularity of Te Kōhanga Reo and Kura Kaupapa by noting that Māori parents and parents of Māori children would be faced with the prospect of sending their children to schools with a majority non-Māori Board of Trustees (BOT) (1989). Educational facilities that based their curriculum and practice around te ao Māori were a far more attractive option, especially for parents who had a less than pleasant experience within the education system (Cleave, 1989, p.67). However, this highlights an issue of inequality in regard to access to Māori-based education, especially for those in rural areas where a large amount of travel would be required to attend a Kaupapa-based school (Cleave, 1989). Cleave notes that this “implies that elite groups with the luxury of choice get the education that they want, while working class and underclass people may receive an education that falls short of what they deserve in cultural terms” (p. 67). This is especially true of middle to upper class Pākeha, who are able to attend local schools with a whitestream curriculum or pay for a private education. By decolonising mainstream curriculum, those who are experiencing the socio-economic side effects of colonisation are still able to receive a culturally literate education without having to bankrupt themselves or become further culturally alienated through education.

Wally Penetito notes that the education sector has always operated in a mode of colonisation (2010). Through assimilation and integration, tamariki Māori and rangatahi Māori were relegated to “brown Pākehā” through a removal of their cultural identity as Māori (2010, p.237). The Pākehā norm of structural and institutionalised racism has perpetuated a “common consciousness” that masks the history of colonisation from mainstream discussion, which in itself is a refusal to acknowledge the impact colonisation has had on Māori (Penetito, 2010). A divergence from the cultural norm of Pākehā centrality will make space for te ao Māori to be seen as a norm, and provide room for Māori to have their culture reflected to them in representation away from tokenistic performance.

Discussion

Russell Pine identifies how teachers can “provide significant opportunities within the classroom to promote learning of te reo Māori and understand their perspectives on learning the language to inform future revitalisation efforts” (2018, p.154). Pine’s research into Pākehā trainee teachers’ attitudes towards te reo as a taonga highlighted how, as adult learners of te reo Māori, that the students were unwilling in most instances to continue learning te reo due to it being too hard, difficult to access, and being time poor (2018. p.163). As university students, it is obvious that they have spent a lot of time, effort, and cognition on achieving their qualification. How then, are they able to attribute negative attitudes and excuses towards learning te reo (in order to apply a somewhat culturally responsive practice to their teaching) when they have spent a minimum of three years making time for something they have deemed important? The attitudes here exemplify how te ao Māori is only prioritised by Pākehā during te wiki ō te reo Māori, before an All Black’s game, or when they are being appraised (Milne, 2017). Whilst these participants are not outwardly racist, the perpetuation of the structural racism that allows colonisation to continue to denigrate Māori is the responsibility of Pākehā to disassemble (Penetito, 2010). Being complicit to this infiltration of colonisation is to allow it to continue unimpeded. What education needs is “active anti-racism”, i.e. moving against the current strong enough that you change the direction (Freire, 1993, Milne, 2017). Many of the participants in Price’s study wrote about their beliefs in the benefits of learning te reo, and its importance for Māori, however their follow through in focus groups and their “real” commitment to te reo was that of “it’s important but I won’t be continuing” (2018, p.164). This is a passing of the hot potato and lip service to pass cultural competency assignments without contributing anything of value to the acquisition of te reo Māori, as well as a glaring insight into the attitudes of those who will be teaching rangatahi Māori. One participant noted how there was so much in the curriculum already that they would not be teaching te reo in their classrooms because it would be “too hard” to fit anything else in (Pine, 2018, p.164). What is poignant here is how te reo Māori is not valued by student teachers. What this translates to for tamariki Māori and rangatahi Māori is that they are not valued (Children’s Commission, 2018). Without te reo Māori being a compulsory component of teacher training (in one-year graduate diplomas as well as three-year Bachelor programs), it will continue to be seen as a less than important part of application to an apparently culturally responsive practice.

Contrastingly, Diana Amundsen (in the same journal publication) immediately notes that Pākehā educators are tasked with “decolonising through reconciliation” (2018, p.139). Amundsen identifies the white privilege that allows Pākehā trainee teachers the ability to step away from te ao Māori without having their cultural identity stripped, or the location of their ‘self’ questioned (2018, p.146). One can argue then, that in order to be a culturally responsive teacher, and reconcile a decolonisation of education, that first location, then reflection is an integral part of teacher training. Without critical self-review, Pākehā will remain entrenched in a bubble of colonialism that they will continue to perpetuate whilst believing they remain squeaky clean. Until this identification as Pākehā occurs that dismantles the hegemonic racial disparities between Māori and Pākehā, a shift into post-colonialism is impossible, and institutional colonialism will prevail. The discomfort of Pākehā is synonymous with the “white fragility” of colonisers worldwide that facilitate the lack of decolonisation and maintains the Eurocentric status quo (DiAngelo, 2018). By skirting around the magnification of existing as part of the colonising norm, attitudes will not change, colonisation will continue to be interwoven into the fabrics of society, and racist sentiments will remain unthreatened, placing the onus of change back on Māori (Amundsen, 2018). Positioning any form of racism within the framework of colonisation allows this to first be highlighted and then erased through its view under a microscope (Penetito, 2010 & Milne, 2017). Tall poppy syndrome and race-traitorship is a perceived barrier to Pākehā teachers afraid to challenge the status quo or are otherwise ignorant of its necessity (Hutchings et al, 2012). This lack of consistency from Pākehā educators then belittles trust that rangatahi Māori can have in a Pākehā teacher, as from class to class (and day to day) their experience within a mainstream setting will differ markedly (Children’s Commission, 2018).

David Omotoso Stovall makes the important distinction between a deficit view of “achievement” versus “effects of colonisation” (2016). He claims we need to view the issue of Māori being left behind as an “educational debt as opposed to an achievement gap” (2016, p.105). He views this instead as a debt that is owed to Māori in light of the historical disparities and side effects of colonisation that have denigrated tangata whenua and impoverished generations (2016, p.105). Through this change of lens, pedagogy and application of the curriculum can then be “collectively imagined and executed”, and the onus and responsibility for change placed back on colonising structures (Omotoso Stovall, 2016, p.110). This builds on the rhetoric that there is a need for a place-based curriculum that co-constructs an identity-based structure with the school and rangatahi (Hutchings et al, 2012). An understanding of te ao Māori and cultural literacy is essential to understanding and facilitating this successfully.

The lack of reflection of rangatahi Māori in their environment when attending a mainstream school is a stark reality of Māori experience in mainstream schooling (Children’s Commission, 2018). What this shows is a need for tikanga to be embedded within the schooling framework, instead of being tokenistically performative for guests or the Education Review Office (Children’s Commissioner, 2018). The need for Pākehā teachers to ensure that they have built integral and strong relationships with rangatahi, and also allowed equal relationship building in the class means that whanaungatanga and a sense of belonging and trust will be able to develop within the classroom (Children’s Commissioner, 2018). Rangatahi have noted how they feel disempowered and find it embarrassing to be expected to speak and perform on behalf of Māori, when their cultural identify and connection to te ao Māori is not facilitated in mainstream schooling. (Children’s Commissioner, 2018). Rangatahi also identified how they felt undervalued, and thus undervalued themselves because they were Māori in a Eurocentric setting (Children’s Commissioner, 2018). Statistics reflected failure instead of a debt that Pākehā needed to repay. There is a self-fulfilling prophecy of teacher deficit thinking, rangatahi feeling disengaged and unmotivated, and thus a continued gap in measurable achievement (Children’s Commissioner, 2018).

Ann Milne asks If we can create the conditions that empower a student to follow their cultural norms throughout the day (2017). Critical consciousness is again mentioned throughout her work, and, like Freire, she identifies an anarchy that is crucial to the disestablishment of the colonising norm, and the movement towards equity (2017, p.8). The implicit expression of neoliberalism that seeks to further colonise and conquer through a process of assimilation is pervasive throughout the mainstream curriculum and pedagogical practice (Milne, 2017, p.9). Though many policies exist to minimise the gap between Māori and Pākeha students, Milne states that these are often unsuccessful due to the focus on achievement, rather than cultural understanding of Māori (2017, p.10). To “fix” the underachievement, the focus then becomes on the student, the home life, and their community, when in reality it should first come from the structural makeup of the governing body. This also presupposes that Māori are able to be quantified academically in the same manner as Pākeha. Participation of Māori in education is markedly different to participation as Māori, and the politics of knowledge have compartmentalised tikanga into a high school subject and removed the opportunity for Māori to lean as Māori in a culturally facilitating environment (Milne, 2017, p.33).

Hutchings et al found that Māori foundations for learning include notions of whakapapa and cultural identity (2012). They highlighted the importance of tikanga in classrooms to enable tamariki to feel cared for and to have positive experiences of manaaki, aroha, and nurturing (2012). The authors found that whānau Māori desire high quality schooling and high-quality outcomes for tamariki and rangatahi, and very few whānau felt like their aspirations were being realised in Pākehā education (2012). The disparities between whānau views and Pākehā structures were through measures of success as holistic instead of mono-dimensional views of linear achievement (Hutchings et al, 2012). Whānau identified the expression of structural racism in Pākehā schooling through:

A lack of commitment to te reo and tikanga MāoriA view of Māori as deficientMispronunciation of Māori namesConstruction of Māori children as “problem” childrenLack of inclusion of Māori knowledge and history within the curriculumLack of commitment to engage fully with whānau MāoriLimited or lack of engagement with hapū and iwi of the areaLack of knowledge or training of non-Māori teachers in relation to Māori understandings and practices

(Hutchings et al, 2012, p.25).

What this shows, quite glaringly, is that Pākehā teachers are failing rangatahi Māori through continued disengagement with te ao Māori (and thus rangatahi as Māori), and how this is facilitated by teacher training programs (Hutchings et al, 2012). By making learning of tikanga and te ao Māori optional in training programs (such as Massey University and Victoria University do), the universities are perpetuating the belief that cultural responsiveness too, is optional (Price, 2018). The reinforcement of colonising beliefs through our highest academic training institutions outlines the height that structural racism and institutional racism comes from, even in areas that are outwardly promoting an equitable view. Through first-hand experience of a Graduate Diploma teaching program, racism is demonstrably and overtly expressed throughout a number of trainees, which is unchecked despite confrontation and complaint to heads of school. The results of this will be a continued denigration of te ao Māori, a push into a labour based, lower-working class career (if finishing school at all), and a markedly deficit view of rangatahi Māori by Pākehā teachers. Whilst initiatives such as Tātaiako provide a baseline for cultural competency, and is unlike Ka Hikitia in the way that Ka Hikitia’s critics note it’s narrow view of Māori achievement (as well as its poor implementation) more needs to be done to ensure this reaches front-line pedagogy (Milne, 2017).

In an online submission to Education Central, Catherine Kelsey believes that teachers should “focus on the needs of their students and communities, rather than those of the workforce” (2018). What is imperative to note here, is how education in Aotearoa has historically been used to belabour Māori, and to relegate them to an impoverished working class through colonising education (Penetito, 2010). By focusing entirely on a workforce-based, achievement-centric educational ideal, tikanga Māori and the needs of a culturally responsive practice will continue to be swallowed by a neoliberal production line.

An analysis of structural barriers to whānau educational wellbeing, and how to support these through everyday experiences is what needs to change in educational policy. Through clarity of aspirations, which learning systems work best, and information used by Māori and what is useful them in practical terms will engage a cooperative construction of an equitable approach (Hutchings et al, 2012). Success and achievement will look different to each iwi, hapū and whānau, and blanketing “Māori achievement” under a Eurocentric framework that does not address structural issues only perpetuates the disparity. Policy development for Māori are ideologically irreconcilable with tino rangatiratanga and Pākeha notions of citizenship and governance (Mulholland & Tawhai 2016, p.299).

Conclusion

Teachers who are unable to “park” their feelings regarding constructive criticism of their adherence to tikanga Māori, and the ways in which they need to improve, are furthering a colonistic view that they (as Pākehā) are trying their best and thus they are correct. If the intention is not altruistic, then it is a further form of Pākehā perpetuation of colonising behaviour, and results in a lack of growth and understanding. Pākeha as the dominant norm results in whiteness being seen as default (Fleras & Spoonley, 1999). Structural racism and culture of colonisation is a feeding point for culturally illiterate teachers being pumped into mainstream schools. Colonisation is a cultural process that exists to disempower, disenfranchise, and alienate the people to whom the land belongs, and is alive and well (Hutchings et al, 2012).

How do you change the rhetoric and teacher engagement without a change in view and understanding of Māori first as tangata whenua, and then as learners as Māori? There is nothing specifically Māori about current curriculum or mainstream pedagogy (Milne, 2017). An overwhelming majority of Pākeha and non-Māori teachers in mainstream settings mean that Māori-centric practice is a rarity in mainstream schooling. This presents barriers to understanding and working with whānau, hapū and iwi, and the need to encourage trust in the community as difficult within a Eurocentric individualistic framework Milne, 2017). The fragmented identity politics that surround how non-Māori identify themselves (or are identified), whether it be Pākeha, tauiwi or tangata Tiriti, influence the lens through which te ao Māori is viewed. The only way to enter into a postcolonial society is through a voracious decolonisation of the state.

References

Amundsen, D. (2018). Decolonisation through reconciliation: The role of Pākeha identity. MAI Journal: A New Zealand Journal of Indigenous Scholarship, 7(2), 139-154.

Child’s Commissioner (2018). He manu kai Mātauranga: He tirohanga Māori. Education Matters to Me Series (Report 1 of 6). Wellington: Author.

Cleave, P. (1989). The sovereignty game: Power, knowledge and reading the Treaty. Wellington: VUP.

DiAngelo, R. (2018). White fragility: Why it’s so hard for white people to talk about racism. Boston: Beacon Press.

Fleras, A. & Spoonley, P. (1999). Recalling Aotearoa: Indigenous Politics and Ethnic Relations in New Zealand. Auckland: Oxford University Press.

Freire, P. (1993). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Translated by Myra Bergman Ramos). New York: Continuum.

Hutchings, J., Barnes, A., Taupo, K., Bright, N., Pihama, L., & Lee, J. (2012). Kia Puāwaitia Ngā Tūmanako: Critical Issues for Whānau in Māori Education. New Zealand Council for Educational Research. Wellington: NCER.

Kelsey, C. (2018, April 09). 21st Century Skills Debate Unhelpful. Retrieved from https://educationcentral.co.nz/response-catherine-kelsey-21st-century-skills-debate-unhelpful/

May, S. & Aikman, S. (2003). ‘Indigenous education: addressing current issues and developments’. Comparative Education, 39(2), 139-145.

Milne, A. (2017). Coloring in the White Spaces: Reclaiming Cultural Identity in Whitestream Schools (Counterpoints). New York, USA: Peter Lang Publishing.

Ministry of Education. (2013). Ka Hikitia: Accelerating success 2013–2017. Wellington: Author.

Ministry of Education (2016). Tātaiako: Cultural competencies for teachers of Māori learners. Wellington: Author.

Mulholland, M. & Tawhai, V. (2010). Weeping Waters: The Treaty of Waitangi and constitutional change. Wellington: Huia Publishers.

Omotoso Stovall, D. (2016). Born Out of Struggle: Critical race theory, school creation, and the policy of interruption. New York: State University of New York Press.

Pine, R.S. (2018). Teacher trainees’ attitudes and motivations towards learning te reo Māori. MAI Journal: A New Zealand Journal of Indigenous Scholarship, 7(2), 155-169.

Penetito, W. (2010). What’s Māori about Māori education? Wellington: Victoria University Press.

Tawhai, V.M. & Gray-Sharp, K.A. (Eds) (2010). ‘Always speaking’. The Treaty of Waitangi and Public policy. Wellington: Huia Publishers.

Tomlins-Jahnke, H. & Warren, K. T. R (2011). Full, Exclusive, and Undisturbed Possession: Māori Education and the Treaty. In V. M. Tawhai & K. A. Gray-Sharp (Eds.), ‘Always speaking : the Treaty of Waitangi and public policy. Wellington, N.Z. : Huia Publishers

Introduction

Policies relating to mātauranga Māori have been used as assimilatory tools for forced integration and erasure of te ao Māori (Tooley, 2000). Through what Tooley coins an “illusory representation of Māori by the state”, continued oppression has been able to occur under the guise of academic promotion (2000, p. 41). Initiatives for Māori success within a Eurocentric model have historically been constructed by Pākehā (Penetito, 2010). The fallacy of this is that the definition of success, as well as its control, remains within the hands of Pākehā, not with Māori (Tooley, 2000). With Pākehā-driven institutions as the dominant norm, this results in whiteness being seen as default (Fleras & Spoonley, 1999). This default influences the lens through which te ao Māori is viewed, and how any divergence, contrast, or critique is an immediate othering of the non-white self (Fleras & Spoonley, 1999). Through education in a mainstream context, the privilege of Pākeha becomes entrenched in society, and perpetuates the use of education as a vehicle for integration policies cementing the status quo, and thereby maintaining the status of Pākehā (Tooley, 2000). Despite changes to the practice of policy creation surrounding Māori achievement, the reality is that the only way to provide an equal and equitable framework for education is through first a decolonisation of the state (Fleras & Spoonley, 1999). Ka Hikitia has been introduced as a remedy to the Eurocentric modelling of Māori achievement policies. Through a foundation of cultural competency, Ka Hikitia outlines the bases from where a Māori “friendly” approach to education can stem. First we must address whether “cultural competency” is enough. Ka Hikitia mentions “high-quality” teaching, however there is a lack of identification of what this looks like in relation to Māori learners (Ministry of Education (MOE), 2016, p.1). High-quality teaching can refer to a number of pedagogical practices to Pākeha learners, however these are not specified in relation to Māori learners, and does not identify the diverse views within iwi, hapu and whanau. The positive aspect of Ka Hikitia is the broad way in which schools are able to implement it within their curriculum, meaning a one-size fits all approach is avoidable in regards to whānau, hapū and iwi visions of success.

Background

Initiative such as Tātaiako outline that Māori knowledge, that is, what learners bring as Māori, is an integral part of creating an equitable educational environment (MOE, 2016). Tātaiako is one of the few “mainstream” publications to quickly identify the need for teachers and staff to locate themselves culturally (MOE, 2016). By identifying your position in regards to language, socio-economic status, fiscal security, and education; your relative power in relation to others becomes highlighted, especially as Pākehā (Tooley, 2000). Ka Hikitia’s critics note it’s narrow view of Māori achievement, as well as its poor implementation and integration into mainstream schooling (Milne, 2017). How do you change the rhetoric and teacher engagement without a change in view and understanding of Māori first as tangata whenua, and then as learners as Māori? With the majority of Pākehā and non-Māori teachers as the norm, Māori-centric practice is a rarity in mainstream schooling. Education is incomplete unless rangatahi emerge with full knowledge, understanding, and comfort with te ao Māori (Tomlins-Jahnke & Warren, 2011).

Berryman, Lawrence & Lamont identify the creation of a culturally responsive space as integral development of cultural relationships for responsive pedagogy (2018, p. 3). They also highlighted the discovery that teachers in practice tend to focus more on aspects of the pedagogy that they found more familiar and accessible (2018. p. 4). What this exemplifies is that if Ka Hikitia is to be successful long term, then it needs to be taught as an integral course of teacher training in order to make it familiar enough for Pākehā teachers to implement it as a normalised aspect of pedagogy, instead of intimidating and difficult to implement. Academic failure of Māori is a failure of the state to Māori. David Omotoso Stovall views this as a debt that Pākehā government has to Māori through the side effects of colonisation that have relegated tangata whenua to poverty and labour intensive employment (2016, p. 105). Education cannot overcome the socio economic effects of colonisation such as housing, poverty, violence, or addiction. Therefore we need to address if Ka Hikitia is able to succeed within a socially disparitive social system that has not been decolonised or addressed?

Tomlins-Jahnke & Warren note how Ka Hikitia “called attention to unlocking Māori potential by challenging the very system that has previously undermined the life chances of Māori children” (2011, p. 28). One of the critiques of Ka Hikitia is that it can be seen as a Māori dimension added onto an existing framework, and can be reduced to a performative band-aid if it is not used to full effect (Hutchings, Barnes, Taupo, Bright, Pihama & Lee, 2012). Penetito calls this the “illusion of transformation”, and Mulholland and Tawhai claim that “policy development for Māori is ideologically irreconcilable with tino rangatiratanga and Pākeha notions of citizenship and governance” (2010, p. 61 & 2016, p. 299).

Teachers need to reflect on the nature of relationships in their classrooms (Berryman et al, 2018, p. 4). Is the student’s cultural identity and physical, emotional, and spiritual wellbeing also important? How then, would Pākehā recognise these relationships in practice? Through what Berryman, Lawrence & Lamont call the “identification of unconsciousness”, a light is able to be shone on the inherent biases that allow colonialist attitudes to be pervasive throughout education (2018, p. 6). Teachers need to master the practice of “parking” of the self in order to listen to rangatahi and whānau, and to make space for cultural relationships instead of colonialist perpetuation. Responsive pedagogy begins with listening. Dialogue opens the possibility for change. With respect for diversity there is the potential for learning and growth within the exploration of colonisation and its effects on Māori (Berryman et al, 2018, p. 8).

Through a decolonisation of mainstream curriculum, rangatahi Māori are still able to receive a culturally literate education without having to bankrupt themselves or become further culturally alienated through integratory education (Cleave, 1989).

Criteria for analysis

A policy directly targeting the gap in achievement between Māori and Pākehā needs to be successful in more than an identification of the barriers between Māori and success. Ka Hikitia is likely to achieve success if it:

Directly targets a competency based practice for teachers of Māori learners.Is Māori centric, and not reductory and narrow minded in focus.Identifies working with Māori in a mainstream/whitestream setting.Has measurable outputs for success.Takes a progressive, not deficit view of the reasons behind the gap in achievement.Identifies Māori achievement as existing outside of Pākehā measures of success.Provides a guideline for implementation and professional development and learning.

Wally Penetito adds his own criteria for policies surrounding Māori education:

Were there sufficient resources available to enable people to make any implementations?Were the policies and practices fully implemented?Who was meant to carry out the practices, and were they capable of successfully implementing them?

Using these criteria for success, we are able to analyse the possibility and probability for the success of Ka Hikitia within a mainstream education environment.

Analysis

The Ministry of Education (MOE) has identified that the initial roll out of Ka Hikitia was less than ideal, and disparities remain. This is important as it shows that Ka Hikitia is a working policy, and is able to build on the empirical evidence that schools will feed back to the MOE in regards to successes and shortcomings. What the MOE chooses to do with this information, whether it be approaching iwi for input, providing a higher spec roll out of information for leadership teams, or making Ka Hikitia a part of both teacher training and professional appraisal is, ultimately, up to them.

Ka Hikitia employs aspects of te ao Māori, such as ako, to provide a tikanga-based guide for Pākehā teachers of Māori to understand the location of rangatahi’s cultural experience. Ako highlights the co-construction of a teaching and learning platform, and through this changes the narrative of authoritive teacher and passive, reciprocal student (Freire, 1993). The interwoven connection to whānau, hapū and iwi is reflected in the notion of ako within an education environment, and provides a platform for teachers to understand the social ecosystem through which rangatahi exist. “When the vision is realised, all Māori students will: have their identity, language, and culture valued and included in teaching and learning in ways that support them to engage and achieve success” (MOE, 2013, p.13). Through an implementation of te ao Māori in the curriculum, the reflection of Māori on Māori will create a more Māori-centric, structurally equitable exposure to both te ao Māori and te ao Pākehā. By engaging with community, iwi, and Māori led models, te reo Māori and tikanga will become more prevalent within whitestream education (MOE, 2013, p. 10). This validation will seep into a wider consciousness, thus changing and amending the social zeitgeist that feeds on isolation and confirmation from its surroundings (Freire, 1993).

Māori students in English medium schools are more likely to have lower levels of achievement in literacy, numeracy and science than non-Māori students (MOE, 2013, p. 15). This exemplifies the lack of relevance for rangatahi in whitestream education, and how a continued form of assimilation through education creates a disconnect from education, and thus a perpetuation of socio-economic disparity (Hutchings et al, 2012). Through identifying the distinct role of Eurocentric teaching on the achievement rates of Māori, an impetus is placed back on mainstream settings to narrow the gap through a decolonising practice, and integration of tikanga within the curriculum.

Part of Ka Hikitia’s vision is for all Māori students to have strong literacy, numeracy, and language (unspecified) skills (MOE, 2013, P. 13). The policy aims to do this through an integration of Māori identity, language, and culture into the school’s curriculum and teaching pedagogy. How this will look is not defined, however there is a clear outline of implementing into the curriculum, meaning a deeper involvement than names of the week on the board, or tokenistic shallow displays of te reo. Having a guide for integration for curriculum means that adherence and embrace of tikanga is outwardly measurable by leadership, and also through appraisal. Data collected by schools will identify where extra resources will be directed to ensure they do not fall behind. What this doesn’t highlight is how, where, and what these resources will look like in a Māori-centric way. This data will, however, guide the decisions on who extra resources will be used. Another way that schools will be able to use data, is to gauge their success at implementing tikanga Māori into their curriculum and teaching pedagogy. This can then be built upon for success, reflection, or to identify that current efforts may not be executed to their full potential. Retention, achievement, and qualitative measures will all be reflected in the data collected by schools, and can be collated across regions to identify strengths and weaknesses. Ka Hikitia outwardly identifies their goals of 85% of Māori achieving at or above the median of their peers in both literacy and numeracy (MOE, 2013, p. 58). Ka Hikitia also has the goal of Māori who are leaving school with University Entrance achieving the same, or higher as their Pākehā classmates.

Ka Hikitia acknowledges that teachers and education professionals can hold deficit views regarding expectations of Māori students (MOE, 2013, p. 8). It is also acknowledged the detriment this has on learning and subsequent achievement of Māori. By outlining the need for all (whānau, hapū, iwi and teachers) to share high expectations of Māori students, a culture of “why try” can be avoided. The deep seated beliefs and stereotypes of rangatahi and whānau Māori are incredibly detrimental for self-belief and success for rangatahi, and for teachers to perpetuate this is a discredit to the education sector (Hutchings et al, 2012). The potential of Māori as Māori needs to be recognised through a systematic dismantling of Eurocentric power structures and colonialist attitudes within classrooms and schools.

“Learning needs to connect with students’ existing knowledge” (MOE, 2013, p.45). Identifying Māori-centred learning through the implementation of Ka Hikitia will allow a pedagogy that is relevant and reflective of Māori knowledge to be co-constructed with rangatahi and whānau. If schools do not have the fundamental understanding of te ao Māori required for equitable investigation, then this provides an apt opportunity to involve whānau and iwi into a collaborative creation of a Māori-based curriculum (Hutchings et al, 2012). Success as Māori exists outside of Pākehā measures of success, so the collaboration with whānau Māori will provide another platform for a framework that measures success of rangatahi as Māori, as designed by whānau.

Professional development in regards to equitable implementation of Ka Hikitia and a commitment to bridging the gap in achievement caused by the continuing effects of colonisation and structural racism present in education. A productive partnership is one that is collaborative, empathetic, and open to critical review. In order for teachers and senior leadership to play a pivotal role in the implementation of an equitable policy for Māori, self-reflection, location, and investigation are essential (Tomlins-Jahnke & Walker, 2011). A solution based approach, with an integrated and collaborative approach, will enable whānau and iwi space to have a voice, a role, and ownership over the measures of success of rangatahi. Schools are in a position where they can choose to perpetuate or delineate the progression of structural racism within their institution. It is not on the shoulders of rangatahi to be the vehicles for their own success; this must be facilitated and supported through teachers and staff. Ongoing learning for teaching staff and support workers is essential to promote a collaborative effort, co-constructed learning space, and a continued education for everyone involved in the success-initiative (Hutchings et al, 2012). Ka Hikitia outlines clearly that whānau and iwi are inextricably linked with rangatahi, and for them to be seen as an individual and separate will be detrimental to their learning experience. The MOE outlines that “education professionals need to know the best ways to support, teach and engage with Māori students, building on students’ inherent capability, cultural assets and existing knowledge” (2013, p. 62). Ka Hikitia outlines the promise for improvements in teacher education, professional learning, and development. It also claims improvement to appraisals and the overall effects this will have on a positive impact on Māori learners (MOE, 2013).

The second connection that allows Māori achievement to overlap as Māori, is a commitment to whānau and student engagement, with the provisioning for support to allow these relationships to flourish (MOE, 2013). These two overlapping foundations are encompassed by values that need to underpin the pedagogical approaches of teachers of Māori students.

Barriers to success

Ka Hikitia is not a complete solution, nor is it without its downsides. As many critics have already noted, the policy can be viewed as vague and not concrete for implementation (Milne, 2017). For Pākehā teachers who are resistant to change, and unwilling to identify their location in a cultural landscape, Ka Hikitia is likely to “fall on deaf ears”, be tokenistically glossed over in practice, and ignored. To mitigate this, the MOE will need to provide clear outlines, exemplars for practice, and a compulsory addition to professional learning and appraisal. A clearer guide for extracting valuable and usable information relating to rangatahi will ensure the success of Ka Hikitia in classrooms where Pākehā teachers have adopted the well-known martyrhood of “I don’t get it therefore I cannot do it”, as seen throughout my time teaching. Through simply identifying the structural issues and Pākehā perpetuation of continued colonisation through education, the pushback from those unwilling to identify themselves within this framework can be immense. Ka Hikitia and the MOE would need to adapt appraisal efforts in order to provide an idea of just how many Pākehā were holding onto assimilatory practices, and what professional learning can be tailored to them in order for them to work through their racism and deficit practices. These attitudes, of course, are allowed and trickle down from senior leadership. These issues need to be addressed at the top level of the school, which is another area for Ka Hikitia to focus on.

For white, rural and “blue” schools, how will Ka Hikitia be enforced? What strategies for Māori development to schools need to implement? If things have reached fever pitch by this point, then leaving schools to implement their own structures to improve the issues seems to be like asking an alcoholic to run a bar. An overused and overdone sentiment then, is “how”. How are the MOE going to embed the values outlined in Ka Hikitia into mainstream schooling? What does this look like? How is this accessible for culturally illiterate Pākeha teachers, and teachers who have arrived from overseas. How do they know what ethical engagement is? There is a high risk that further Pākehā demands on Māori emotional and cognitive labour will create large amounts of friction as opposed to collaboration. A solution for a Māori-led curriculum for schools struggling to find ways to implement te ao Māori is for schools to have information evenings to ascribe how te ao Māori will be used within the curriculum, and any gaps that whānau Māori feel should be filled.

Why is Ka Hikitia only aiming for Māori to achieve a minimum of NCEA Level 2? Why not Level 3? If Pākehā were expected to achieve only 2 out of 3 of the offered levels of high school qualification, then what is the point of offering Level 3 instead of Level 2? Why, then, is Level 3 not reserved for gifted and high achieving students? This can be seen as a further deficit view of Māori ability, as high expectations need to also match the expectations of Pākehā, albeit with measures to enable an equitable environment to match the privileges that allow Pākehā to succeed.

I find research surrounding colonisation and its effects hard going. Often I need to take time and space away as it is upsetting. What this exemplifies (in almost perfect fashion) is me using my privilege as Pākehā. I am able to escape a traumatic (and unlived) experience, without any detriment to my identification. I can continue to exist as Pākehā within te ao Tauiwi and park my burden, should I choose. My privilege as white remains untouched, outside of whatever other suppressions I may experience.

Conclusion

Structural racism and culture of colonisation is a perfect storm for a continued production line of culturally illiterate teachers being pumped into mainstream schools (Price, 2018). Amundsen’s studies of Pākehā identity within Aotearoa identify the white privilege that allow Pākehā trainee teachers the ability to step away from te ao Māori without having their cultural identity stripped, or the location of their ‘self’ questioned (2018, p.146). The lack of adequate reflection of rangatahi Māori in their learning environment when attending a mainstream school is a stark reality of Māori experience in whitestream schooling (Children’s Commission, 2018). What this shows is a need for tikanga to be firmly embedded within the schooling framework through the use of policies such as Ka Hikitia, instead of being tokenistically performative for guests or outside appraisal (Children’s Commission, 2018).

Pākehā teachers are failing rangatahi Māori through continued disengagement with te ao Māori (and thus rangatahi as Māori), which is continually facilitated by teacher training programs (Hutchings et al, 2012). Without having learning of tikanga and te ao Māori compulsory in training programs (such as Massey University and Victoria University do, and the optional classes are often with less that 25% attendance), the universities are perpetuating the belief that cultural responsiveness to rangatahi Māori is optional as well (Price, 2018). Education facilitates the replacement of te ao Māori with te ao Pākehā (Tooley, 2000). Penetito calls this “pacification through assimilation” (2010). He notes that there needs to be a creation of a system for Māori, by Māori – otherwise it is a further perpetuation of neoliberal assimilation and integration but through a Māori sanctioned pathway (Penetito, 2010). Ka Hikitia allows a Māori led, Māori driven curriculum to be implemented into schools, and provides the basis for a positive educational outcome for rangatahi Māori. By tightening the policy to include clear, concrete outlines of what this looks like in practice, as well as the MOE making its use evidently compulsory for whitestream schools, the trickle-down effect will result in a more equitable learning environment for rangatahi Māori.

References

Amundsen, D. (2018). Decolonisation through reconciliation: The role of Pākeha identity. MAI Journal: A New Zealand Journal of Indigenous Scholarship, 7(2), 139-154.

Berryman, M., Lawrence, D., & Lamont, R. (2018). Cultural relationships for responsive pedagogy: A bicultural mana ōrite perspective. He Whakaaro Anō, 1, 3-10.

Child’s Commissioner (2018). He manu kai Mātauranga: He tirohanga Māori. Education Matters to Me Series (Report 1 of 6). Wellington: Author.

Cleave, P. (1989). The sovereignty game: Power, knowledge and reading the Treaty. Wellington: VUP.

Fleras, A. & Spoonley, P. (1999). Recalling Aotearoa: Indigenous Politics and Ethnic Relations in New Zealand. Auckland: Oxford University Press.

Freire, P. (1993). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Translated by Myra Bergman Ramos). New York: Continuum.

Hutchings, J., Barnes, A., Taupo, K., Bright, N., Pihama, L., & Lee, J. (2012). Kia Puāwaitia Ngā Tūmanako: Critical Issues for Whānau in Māori Education. New Zealand Council for Educational Research. Wellington: NCER.

Milne, A. (2017). Coloring in the White Spaces: Reclaiming Cultural Identity in Whitestream Schools (Counterpoints). New York, USA: Peter Lang Publishing.

Ministry of Education. (2013). Ka Hikitia: Accelerating success 2013–2017. Wellington: Author.

Ministry of Education (2016). Tātaiako: Cultural competencies for teachers of Māori learners. Wellington: Author.

Mulholland, M. & Tawhai, V. (2010). Weeping Waters: The Treaty of Waitangi and constitutional change. Wellington: Huia Publishers.

Omotoso Stovall, D. (2016). Born Out of Struggle: Critical race theory, school creation, and the policy of interruption. New York: State University of New York Press.

Pine, R.S. (2018). Teacher trainees’ attitudes and motivations towards learning te reo Māori. MAI Journal: A New Zealand Journal of Indigenous Scholarship, 7(2), 155-169.

Penetito, W. (2010). What’s Māori about Māori education? Wellington: Victoria University Press.

Tomlins-Jahnke, H. & Warren, K. T. R (2011). Full, Exclusive, and Undisturbed Possession: Māori Education and the Treaty. In V. M. Tawhai & K. A. Gray-Sharp (Eds.), ‘Always speaking : the Treaty of Waitangi and public policy. Wellington, N.Z. : Huia Publishers.

Neoliberalism in Aotearoa seeks to commodify the access to education for state profit (Connell, 2013). Whilst education itself cannot be commodified, to exist as a participant in society, a certain degree of assimilation is required before a young person is a) legally able to leave schooling, and b) deemed worthy of entry level, labour-intensive positions in the workforce. By commercialising a human right (the right to education), a free market economy of education emerged, a landscape within which equitable, Māori-centric learning could only occur if it was deemed profitable√. This “predatory entrepreneurship” has created the perfect storm for a gaslighting social commentary on the rights of Māori to learn as Māori (Connell, 2013) . Within this, Ka Hikitia emerged. With sound reasoning; iwi consultation; and implementation of tikanga, Ka Hikitia (if implemented properly) is a valuable and powerful resource for schools attempting to decolonise their learning environment. The accessibility of the theory or framework is a barrier to its successful implementation (Bishop, 2005) . When Ka Hikitia was first released in 2008, it was lost amid 14 other initiatives being implemented at the same time. Can it be argued then, that the Ministry of Education [MOE] had no intention of ensuring the success of Ka Hikitia with full gusto, as the neoliberal framework within which it exists needs to feed off constant reviews and inquiries by various stakeholders and agencies? Is equitable Māoridom on its way to becoming another necessity that is to get lost in bureaucracy within the colonising loop of whitestream education? Who’s interest is being served needs to be at the forefront of policy creation and its engagement with wider implementation . Māori have had theory and frameworks forced upon them since the beginning of colonisation, and yet tauiwi continue to be the driving force behind policy set to raise the inequality in nationalised parameters of achievement (Pihama, 2010). Thus, theory and frameworks need to be ‘libertory’ in their application to education. How does Ka Hikitia centralise a Pākeha led approach to what the masses believe as an equitable implementation of te ao Māori into education? The neoliberal commercialisation of education is designed to further colonise Maori, with the deficit onus of lack of achievement placed back on the individual, the whānau, and Māori as a whole. A transparent window into the effects of neoliberalism on the implementation of Ka Hikitia is essential for identifying why it has been so woefully underused, and why beginning teachers, as well as the more seasoned, are globally ignorant of its concepts in relation to pedagogy√. Through this lens we can accurately and definitively identify neoliberalism as being profoundly harmful to policy development for Māori, whilst Ka Hikitia has a Māori-led approach to teacher-based practice, yet is drastically and tokenistically under implemented in schools.

The Fallacy of Equity in Neoliberalism

Neoliberalism is unable to be impartial, equitable, or otherwise non-discriminatory in its existence (Durie, 2003). If indigenous rights and practices were able to be implemented into mainstream education in order to raise not only the achievement of Māori within Eurocentric education, but their autonomical success, then the change would be swift and painless. As the current educational climate is designed to further colonise Māori, changes to tauiwi education and the delivery of knowledge acquisition is not within the economic interests of the neoliberal framework (Boston Martin, Pallot & Walsh, 1996). Māori are currently being shoe boxed in with the “myth of meritocracy”, which seeks to denigrate and impoverish indigeneity, though through an equitable approach to Māori education this is able to be somewhat diminished. Neoliberalism seeks to provide results (dividends, if you will) to stakeholders and ministerial obligation√ (Boston et al, 1996). Throughout a neoliberal framework, little stake is given to the self-actualisation of rangatahi, whānau, hapu and iwi within education, and the lasting impact of continued colonisation on Māori identity (Smith, 2003). Through measuring achievement in an economic model, learners are categorised into the framework within which they exist. If you are tauiwi, your noncompliance and lack of achievement can push you into trades, the arts, or freelancing. If you are Māori, the same self-expression is seen as a besmirching of an opportunity one should be grateful for, and a black mark on your personal character. Whitestream, Eurocentric, tauiwi education is not a place for the creation of āhuru mōwai for rangatahi. The issues surrounding the implementation of equitable Māori education cannot be co-opted, nor imported from surrounding theories (Pihama, 2010). What Pihama is illustrating, is that Kaupapa Māori IS Māori-centred theory, a praxis that places Māori within te ao and Mātauranga Māori, and does not subscribe to the neoliberal pressures of nationalised, tauiwi implemented, standardised results (2010). Liberation from the colonisation of the current paradigm, and a continued push for equity in educational policy relating to Māori are the foundations for which equitable policy needs to be built upon (Pihama, 2010). Pihama identifies Kaupapa Māori as a decolonising theory, which places te ao Māori at the centre of discussions around policy implementation (2010). We must continue to critically investigate the intersection between neoliberalism and colonisation. When will we enter the postcolonial, and, unless this is a Maori-centric de-colonisation, is it even post-colonial? Or is this a fallacy? The economy of education is further povertising Māori for the sake of capital gain. This capital gain can be seen as a direct result of colonisation, with tauiwi government reaping the rewards of an indigenous labour force. Knowledge is an economy in itself, and tino rangatiratanga does not fit into the neoliberal mould of the bestowing of knowledge to the worthy and white. The movement of the fundamental power relationships that govern the neoliberal threads of educational policy is seen as a direct threat to pro-colonising effects of education, and thus the fabrics of identity of Pākeha unable to critically examine their place in the racial, hegemonic, and patriarchal power structures of the current neoliberal framework (Pihama, 2010). As anticipated, change is reluctant and slow coming, and (as evident in te kohanga reo, kura kaupapa Māori, and whare wānanga), the beaurocratic hoops are near insurmountable (Milne, 2017).

Policy is not neutral in its construction, and so the collaboration between Māori and the MOE is imperative to ensure an as-neutral-as-possible approach is taken, with equitable resources provided for Māori to learn as Māori – not struggle within a tauiwi framework (Levy, 1999). Māori are currently being swept along with a commodified and marketable approach to education that does nothing for te ao Māori, nor for adherence to tino rangatiratanga and equitable, sovereign governance under Te Tiriti o Waitangi. The New Zealand Curriculum [NZC] Ka Hikitia website uses deficit language in its description of the disparty in Māori achievement, so how are we to expect colonising policy makers to think differently? The NZC website directly quotes “too many Māori students disengage from education before they reach their full potential” (2009). What this translates to, is a deficit driven blaming of the inequality in the achievement of Māori in education, and their ‘potential’ as seen through a Eurocentric light. The MOE’s 2014-2018 Statement of Intent proclaims:

“implementing Ka Hikitia – Accelerating Success, Tau Mai Te Reo and the Pasifika Education Plan which set the direction for the broader education sector to focus on improving outcomes for Māori and Pasifika children and students; we will help communities, whānau, hapū and iwi to work together to support educational success and ensure high-quality teaching that incorporates identity, language and culture” (MOE, 2014).

What they don’t state, is how. An incredulous amount of lip service is given to Māori concepts in education, however the action seems to get lost somewhere between the shiny pages of proclamation and the front line of implementation. The neoliberal approach to personalisation, agency, individualisation and competition have allowed further disparities in colonial parameters of education to emerge (Boston et al, 1996) . Within a neoliberal framework we must ask ourselves, what is the purpose of education in relation to Maori – does a neoliberal approach simply further a colonising force by blockading Māori into labour-based roles through continued perceived lack of achievement in whitestream education? (Easton, 1999). Or, is it an ill-fated opportunity for Māori to battle for sovereignty within education? Are we able to produce a better policy? Even if Māori education was given to iwi to govern, the policies that they would be held accountable to are still within, and constrained by, a Eurocentric, neoliberal, foreign framework. Codd States that “New Zealand schools now function like small businesses” (2004, p.27). The erasure of te ao Māori, a Māori identity, and acknowledgement of place as tangata whenua is hidden behind the propulsion of the “global citizen”. A move further from tīpuna and iwi, a move further into the business model of tauiwi education is a move to further colonise Māori through apparent opportunity (Durie, 2003). With a shift to a Board of Trustees as the new managers for education, a removal of teacher’s self-actualisation created an out of date, out of touch lens that equitable education is viewed through. Thus the tail begins to wag the dog, and what is best for the Māori learner is replaced with what is best for the economic model of the small to mid-sized business of state education (Durie, 2003).

Ka Hikitia or Utopian Ideal?

Ka Hikitia is a well-researched, Māori centric, equitable approach to making space for Māori to learn as Māori within a mainstream educational setting (Milne, 2017). Its successful implementation into schools will begin to open safe spaces for Māori learners, where tikanga and te ao Māori are interwoven with their education. Unfortunately this was made more difficult than it needed to be (on top of the Eurocentric resistance), due to the MOE releasing it en masse amid a raft of other initiatives. Ka Hikitia was lost among numeracy and literacy documents, and did not have the respectful integration into the curriculum it needed in order to flourish successfully (Milne, 2017). The government speaks of “accelerating success” so that Māori learners are able to achieve as Māori, however, as Ann Milne notes, there is no point on having a quality document that has all of the promises, if you do not first define and then identify what this means, and what it looks like in practice (2017). That is, how do senior staff implement this within the framework and ethos of the school? How do teachers weave Ka Hikitia through their pedagogical practice? 2008 was a time of economic privatisation, and further commodification of state-run education, and not an ideal time for a poorly resourced initiative for Māori learners to emerge (Connell, 2013). Further forward in the 2013 – 2017 vision, teachers are evidently not held to accountability with how they use tikanga in a non-tokenistic way in their classrooms, and this is non-enforced by management and the senior leadership team (Milne, 2017). Though engaging a tikanga-led framework into the curriculum was not going to be seamless in a tauiwi, neoliberal setting, a degree of success has been withheld due to the continued need for the MOE to create and fund initiatives, but not implement them properly.

Ka Hikitia is not a compulsory initiative, and the Education Review Office can do little more than suggest it be further implemented in their reports. The usefulness of Ka Hikitia in developing policy, as well as the analysis of current policy is extremely high. If a ready to go, tikanga-based framework is unable to be adequately implemented into practice and curriculum, then already there are indicators that Ka Hikitia has the potential to provide very real and up to date feedback on the cultural responsiveness of whitestream schools. The lack of professional development, poor resources, and implementation plan has been seen as a barrier to those finding the document difficult to engage with within their current teaching environment (Milne, 2017). Whilst this is an excuse due to the fear of many tauiwi to engage with tikanga due to its divergence from their lived norm, if the MOE is to see Ka Hikitia succeed in mainstream schools then this needs to be achieved through a wide ranging, highly supported, ministry led initiative. Simply leaving it in the hands of those who need it the most renders it a dust collector in resource rooms nationwide.

The MOE begins its Ka Hikitia strategy focus on the acquisition of te reo Māori in education (MOE, 2009). Whilst it correctly identifies te reo as a cornerstone of Māori identify, and the wellbeing of Māori learners through the acquisition of taonga, it doesn’t identify what resources, or how it will go about implementing this as achievable outcomes throughout Aotearoa. How will the ministry ensure that schools are providing accessible and widespread opportunities for rangatahi to learn te reo throughout their education? What is apparent throughout ministry initiatives, is that key words and statements referencing Te Tiriti and te ao Māori are peppered throughout suggestive guidelines, but never placed into sustainable, enforceable legislation and policy (MOE, 2009). For example, the MOE asserts “the goals, priorities and actions for Māori language in education are integrated into each of the other focus areas to ensure it has a clear presence in all aspects of a Māori student’s education” (2009). The MOE retains its deficit view by stating that the acquisition of te reo will provide Māori with the “opportunity they need to realise their unique potential and to succeed as Māori” (2009). What it seems to be saying, is that by learning te reo, that generations of colonisation and neoliberal capitalism will be removed for Māori to finally decide to succeed, Māori-ly. The ministry that is supposed to be a guiding principle for the teaching of knowledge in a post-Tiriti Aotearoa seems to be placing the onus partly on the board, but more fully in the hands of Māori learners themselves. The clear presence of te reo in Māori students’ education relates to what, is the question. Is that the sticky magnets with the transliterated days of the week for the board? Or the school values being performatively Māori on the front of the school gates, with no indication of how these are intertwined with tikanga within the school? What the MOE appears to be doing is placing a bowl of water where a lake needs to be and saying it is enough.

The MOE identifies four ways to accelerate change. These include prioritising resources, supporting whānau voice, maintaining momentum, and development of measures of success and progress (2009). Whilst these are necessary and crucial to the success of Ka Hikitia in whitestream education, what does this look like in front like implementation? If the MOE is to develop policy to apparently prioritise Māori learners and te reo, then where do these key factors become a reality for the lived experience of rangatahi? The main question surrounding this framework is what does this look like? Who are the MOE engaging with? When and where? Who are the stakeholders, and what is their role in the design and development of policy for Māori? What are the measures of progress that they seek to research, for what reason, and how will this benefit Māori? The statements outlined above seek to further the neoliberal framework of education under the guise of equity (Connell, 2013). If we approach the change strategy by the MOE with Durie’s Māori Development Framework for policy, the earlier stages show a promising adherence to Māori consultation, and an overall Māori-centric construction of Ka Hikitia (2003). What it lacks, however, is integrated development, the opportunity for monitoring by Māori, a positive focus, and alternate options for the achievement of the same goal. What this means for the implementation of Ka Hikitia, is that, in line with current MOE practice, the policy will be left in the hands of an under-resourced and culturally bewildered few, whilst the collected results will leave policy makers shaking their heads at the continued disparity between tauiwi and Māori (Durie, 2003).

To conclude, the neoliberal framework within which Ka Hikitia has attempted to make ground means that the full actualisation of an equitable practice will be lost in tauiwi economic rhetoric. Through neoliberalism, a continued progression of colonisation is enforced through state education, with lingering deficit ascertations of Māori inadequacy at their own self-actualisation (Durie, 2003). There is an imminent need for the MOE to identify a transparent application of Ka Hikitia into whitestream education, lest it is lost to yet another round of re-initiatives, think-tanks, and the ‘too hard’ basket of tauiwi educators. As Leonie Pihama and Mason Durie have articulated, a Kaupapa Māori theory framework is not simply lip service to Māori, but an overarching implementation of tikanga into the fabric of mainstream curriculum (2003, 2010). A neoliberal platform is a hostile one for tikanga to flourish in schools. Despite its initial cool reception, Ka Hikitia is a powerful resource if implemented adequately into schools, and with proper resourcing, professional development, and a commitment to its success, the MOE is able to ensure at least a slightly greater degree of te ao Māori in schools for tangata whenua. Phase 3 (2018 – 2022) is an opportunity for successful implementation by the MOE.

References:

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Codd, J. (2004). Export Education and the Commercialisation of Public Education in New Zealand. New Zealand Annual Review of Education, 13, 21-41.

Connell. R. (2013) The neoliberal cascade and education: an essay on the market agenda and its consequences, Critical Studies in Education, 54:2, 99-112

Durie, M. (2003). A framework for considering Maori educational advancement. In Mason Durie, Nga kahui pou: Launching Maori futures. Wellington: Huia Publishers pp 345- 371.

Easton, B. (1999). Whimpering of the state: Core education. Auckland: Auckland University Press.

Levy, M. (1999). Policy for Maori: values, assumptions and closing the gap. In Robertson, N. (Ed.). (1999). Maori and psychology: research and practice - The proceedings of a symposium sponsored by the Maori and Psychology Research Unit. Hamilton: Maori & Psychology Research Unit.

Milne, A. (2017). Coloring in the White Spaces: Reclaiming Cultural Identity in Whitestream Schools (Counterpoints). New York, USA: Peter Lang Publishing.

Ministry of Education (2009). Ka Hikitia – Accelerating Success 2013 – 2017. Wellington: Ministry of Education.

Ministry of Education (2014). Ministry of Education Statement of Intent 2014-2018. Wellington: Ministry of Education.

Pihama, L. (2010). Kaupapa Māori Theory: Transforming Theory in Aotearoa. He Pukenga Kōrero Raumati 9(2).

Smith, G. H. (2003, October). Indigenous Struggle for the Transformation of Education and Schooling. Lecture presented at N.Z. Keynote Address to the Alaskan Federation of Natives (AFN) Convention. in Alaska, Anchorage.

“There can be no authentic Māori education without a context in which te ao Māori can find its true expression. There can be no authentic Māori education without its encompassing wairua manifest in te reo Māori, There can be no authentic Māori education that does not set out from the beginning to enhance and strengthen he tuakiri tangata (a Māori identity). (Penetitio, 2010).

The erosion of language and culture as a form of latent colonialism is still overtly present in New Zealand society. Throughout his 2010 work, Wally Penetito outlines and heavily critiques the paternalistic endeavours of the education sector in othering Māori in education. To succeed in a pākeha framework, Penetito notes that you have to cede your Māori-ness and assimilate into Pākehatanga (2010). This duality is already experienced by all Māori students in mainstream schools, and is largely responsible for the disengagement and frustration felt by rangatahi in regards to their ill fitting education. A system “designed for failure” is what makes up the education framework in Aotearoa, and the vulnerability of those the system is failing ensures that they are not in a position to enact change (Penetito, 2010). Mirroring Milne (2017) and Bishop (2005), Penetito highlights how blaming the individual for the mass ‘underachievement’ of Māori deflects the real issues of systemic and governmental failure (2010). The role of Pākeha teachers in the denigration of Māori identity in mainstream education needs to be one at the fore of decolonisation, however the reality is unfortunately markedly different. As a Pākeha teacher of rangatahi, your position and privilege serves to reinforce the colonialist structures within mainstream education.

Pākeha teachers are often unaware of their cultural position and privilege. Throughout teacher training this became increasingly apparent, and led to me leaving the profession to use my skills elsewhere. I decided that I could no longer be complicit in the institutional assimilation of Māori through mainstream (read: whitestream) education. Schools typically preserve and distribute what is perceived to be ‘legitimate knowledge’, which is decided by the Eurocentric state, and perpetuated by its Pākeha cultural currency holders in teaching positions. Trying to break this mould, or simply identifying it can result in profound hostility between colleagues, as well as significant pushback from Pākeha parents. This extreme resistance to equitable change in whitestream schools illuminates whiteness as the cultural capital that is used in social currency (Milne, 2017). The politics of who creates the knowledge used in curriculum creation, who it benefits, and whose point of view it supports is one of the fundamental characteristics of the education system in Aotearoa. What Gillborn suggests is that educational policy in Aotearoa is an act of white supremacy (2005). With a neoliberal, neo-colonialist norm, the discourse surrounding Māori education is inherently racist and discriminatory in its essence. The teacher centric pedagogy implemented in whitestream schools is definitive of a framework that consistently and knowingly puts the needs of Pākeha students above and ahead of Māori (Pihama et al, 2004). Students in this scenario are passive recipients of this knowledge, which is largely out of context, entirely Eurocentric, and taught by majorityPākeha teachers (trained in a similar method during their qualification). Who officiates the knowledge, who decides this, and who perpetuates its implementation is decided by the dominant party. This is exceptionally harmful for marginalised learners, and placed the onus of emotional labour on rangatahi and their whānau to first highlight, then campaign for change.

Being Māori is a Māori reality, and rangatahi leave school ill-equipped as Māori learners. The current legislation and policy from the Ministry of Education [MOE] pay simple lip service, and continuously to and fro with proactive efforts to implement tikanga and te ao Māori into the curriculum. The message this sends to pākeha and Māori alike is that the MOE is both a) unwilling to fund initiatives that have shown success in a neoliberal, disparitive environment, and b) do not believe that Māori education as Māori is something that requires their full effort and attention (Milne, 2017). The depreciation of Māori cultural value, and subsequent disparities should not be tolerated, nor should they be explained under the umbrella of a colonialist framework to defer blame, and suggest the fault lies with the colonised, not the enforcer. What is desperately needed is the alignment of a cultural identity within education (Pihama et al, 2004). Change implemented into rhetoric, policy, and pedagogy will begin to shift the hands of colonisation, however, as discussed in greater detail below, there needs to be acknowledgement prior to progress. Teachers’ assumptions, actions and behaviours, as well as how they interact with students, are governed by the location they place themselves in, and how they understand and position Māori learners (Bishop, 2005).

Historical pathologising of Māori through the native school system has provided the foundations for a Eurocentric education framework to continue (Bishop, 2005). Bishop goes on to note how through the boom of urban migration, “people were encouraged to abandon their language and culture as rapidly as possible in order to learn the ways of the dominant culture. This agenda pursuied vigorously through education, and punishment was rife for those caught speaking Māori” (2005). In Bishop’s 2005 chapter in Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, research found that nearly 60% of teachers viewed Māori achievement in deficit terms, and as the fault of the child themselves, as well as their whānau and home life (p.74). Teachers also noted that they felt threatened by the presence of Māori students in the classroom. This chapter highlights diverse and widespread accounts of how deficit thinking is dangerous, deeply embedded, and overtly expressed within the teaching profession. None of the accounts from teachers identified that their pedagogy or the curriculum may be failing students, and instead spoke of rangatahi as if they were adults (with full conceptualisation and understanding of their actions) making informed decisions to be as disruptive as possible for no reason whatsoever other than their Māori-ness (2005). Māori students were accused of being lazy, unwilling to engage with the material, having attitude problems, and coming from transient, broken homes fuelled by drug use. In further studies, Bishop notes that teachers were almost unanimous in identifying every other person/home/agency other than themselves in the reason for such a high degree of Māori vs. non-Māori stand downs (Bishop, 2005). This, Bishop claims, was without exception.

Intervention is suggested to make the shift for teachers from deficit interpretation of the reasons behind behavioural difficulties to one of accountability and location of a cultural self. These teachers remain the glue of the ongoing colonialist discourse that pathologises the education framework of Aotearoa (Bishop, 2005). With the inability to acknowledge responsibility for the achievement and experience of Māori students in whitestream education, front-line change is unable to be affected even with legislative change. Identification of discourse is the first step in locating deficit views so they are able to be dismantled (Bishop, 2005). Critiquing racist institutionalised discourse is imperative for change. It is easier to blame someone else than to look within, and a great many Pākeha are both unable and unwilling to tackle the task of self-awareness. Teachers noted their positions of deficiency as outside of their control, and something that they could not influence or amend. This shift in thinking from personal attack to systemic identification is not sufficient for changing the status quo, and may retain the pervasive deficit views. The excuses that arise from noting that there are widespread failures make the issue seem so grandiose in size that they are unsurmountable, and thus we cannot deal with them (Bishop, 2005). In a colonial context, the expansion of schooling served as a tool for removing indigenous elites from power and for legitimising colonial rule (Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, 2005). Schools were perceived as facilitators of assimilation and integration of indigenous communities into the white man’s world (Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, 2005).

Likened to an educational crusade, institutions have became tools of political and economic control and domination (Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, 2005). Not only have schools historically used for colonising purposes, but their role in further marginalisation of Māori allowed a socio-economic class stratification to be designed from youth. Anne Milne identifies these white spaces are places of supremacy and cultural denigration, and the role of education policy in the active structuring of racial inequity (2017). Beginning with education, the government has implemented a socially constructed power of white interests. The construction of teacher as provider, student as replicator of knowledge has resulted in a whitestream expectation of zero construction of original thought, inquiry, activism, or critical thinking (Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, 2005).

There have been numerous movements and initiatives at the burden of Māori to improve education for tamariki and rangatahi. The Kura Kaupapa and Kōhanga Reo movement, along with Whare Wananga, have allowed Māori a place to flourish as Māori. Despite the outrageous and prohibitive loopholes for these ‘character’ schools to operate, their success and positive results for Māori have been tenfold. Te Kotahitanga and Ka Hikitia are two Ministry implemented strategies to use in mainstream schools to raise the achievement of Māori learners. Pihama et al note how Ka Hikitia is not well understood in the education sector, including teachers (2004). They also identify the myth of Māori privilege, and the fear amongst Pākeha (whether latent or overt) that runs on the fallacy that if Māori are provided equitable resources then it is at the expense and comfort of pākeha (2004). The authors also highlight the recent attempts from the MOE to remove all references to Te Tiriti in its guiding principles, something that was only halted due to widespread outrage and protest (2004). The ongoing struggle of Māori led initiatives and conceptual frameworks with the bureaucratic hoops and targets to meet, furthers a colonising eurocentric framework through prohibitive policy that marginalises and hinders Māori education. The inability of teachers to conceptualise Māori concepts that they also were not taught at school, and a woeful inadequacy of teacher training programs in New Zealand in implementing this knowledge (Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, 2005).

There is nothing Māori about achieving at a national standard in a pākeha framework. Why are we defining Māori achievement in white terms, and how do we define Māori achievement as Māori? Surely this is not able to be done by Pākeha, and it is unrealistic for Pākeha teachers to have to both decide and implement this under the current educational framework. As is currently evident in statistical information; this is already woefully underperforming, inauthentic in its application, and misinformed in its analysis. The ‘dominant culture’ is the source for legislative and policy changes that further benefit the implementation of this seemingly equitable social change, when really it shifts the blame further onto Māori (whānau unengaged, unemployment, and socio-economic issues etc.) instead of providing a mirror for the legislation from whence these inequalities stemmed. Whānau and large families are seen as too noisy and bustly, and thus not conducive to a Eurocentric learning method of quiet, homework, and individual projects. To further this, parents are seen as not having adequate skills or abilities to help their children learn (in a pākeha framework at least), and community education initiatives are implemented to apparently amend this (Milne, 2017). Non-engagement in learning seen as an indication of a personal deficit, rather than a lack of engaging material and pedagogical practice that relates to non-Pākeha learners.

The impact of whitestream education on rangatahi is immense. Pākeha teachers and senior leadership are complicit in perpetuating the pathologising of lived experience of Māori, and the promotion of a deficit model of thinking (Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, 2005). This perpetuation of deficit thinking is repeated through the pathologisation of Māori lives, as well as antiquated adherence to te Tiriti, which serves only to promote the ideals of the Eurocentric majority (Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, 2005). Rejection of mainstream schooling as a Eurocentric hegemonic form of assimilation, and highlighting the colonialist framework behind the social zeitgeist of acceptance is the ‘new role’ of teachers in whitestream schools. With a divergence from whitestream schooling as the covert civilising mission of the neoliberal, the colonising force behind education will be able to be dismanteld for the benefit of all. “White spaces are spaces that allow you to require less of yourself and that reinforce stereotypes and negative ideas about Māori (Milne, 2017, p. 5). Milne gives accounts of whānau feeling of alienation from the school, as well as disengagement through a feeling of unwelcomeness, and a negative view of whitestream schools through their own experience (a legitimate, and valid view).

Milne highlights how whitestream education demeans cultural values through tokenistic expressions, of “dialling in” Māori-ness when suited in order to meet KPI’s of cultural expression (Milne, 2017). What this shows for rangatahi, is that their value as Māori is purely performative, and serves no purpose other than small opportunities for Pākeha consumption. A dehumanisation, if you will; reminiscent of a horse being pulled out for a display before being relegated to the stables once again. We are all one when there is a pōwhiri, then once again segregated by arbitrary levels of whiteness. Trivial and self serving, tokenism is dangerous in its promotion of apparently equitable cultural observation and ‘integration’ whilst going no further (and thus washing its hands of any further responsibility).

Shields, Bishop & Mazawi note that othering is not easily challenged because “it relieves teachers of the need to engage in pedagogical self-scrutiny or in any serious critique of their personal roles within schools, and the school’s role within the wider society. In effect pathologising school failure indicts the student while simultaneously protecting the social environment from sustained criticism” (2005). A critique and understanding of social theory, and the systemic and legislative issues that allow these views to exist as a social zeitgeist largely unchecked is essential for decolonising teachers’ views of Māori students, and locating themselves within a cultural framework. What we currently have is indirect acknowledgement of racist terms and themes, but no overt, ground-breaking ascertations that wholeheartedly identify and critique whitewashing in schools through Ministry-led, funded initiatives (Milne, 2017). There’s been so much “fixing” – fixing of the deficits in the student, in the family, and the wider community through further engagement in education (Milne, 2017). If colonialist education is the source of the disparity, then expensive implementations of further education into the whānau and community (which continue to denigrate through ‘I am not enough without a grasp of Pākeha education’) is only going to further entrench this into generations to come.

Who benefits? Coercion to form compliant partnerships that perpetuate neoliberal agenda fulfil the needs only of the dominant majority (Bishop, 2005). By deconstructing the current beliefs teachers have about their role in the achievement of Māori learners, the stratification of rangatahi can begin to be disestablished. Deficit thinking is a result of long term blindness that need to be examined by teachers in terms of their own cultural assumptions and how they themselves might be participants in the systematic marginalisation of students in their schools (Shields, Bishop & Mazawi, 2005).

Pākeha teachers have a responsibility to undertake their own decolonisation (Milne, 2017). By critically engaging, and seeking a wider inquiry into their own cultural location, teachers can begin to unravel the Eurocentric dominance in classrooms. Fears and doubts about this process can be self-justifying, as rejecting the status quo can be a direct threat to the threads of supremacy within the current societal framework. As deficit thinking is relayed in a way that is seen to be the fault of the individual and whānau, it is seemingly unchangeable (requiring intervention from self-serving policies rather than a dismantling of institutional racism). In order for teachers to help students become culturally competent, they must first become aware of their own culture and its role in their lives, and become culturally competent themselves (Milne, 2017). This “location” of oneself, is essential for Pākeha teachers who wish to decolonise the lens with which they view their Māori students, and the way they engage with the curriculum. Te Kotahitanga provides a way where teachers can locate themselves in relation to te ao Māori, however (from first hand experience in several secondary schools), this is largely non-existent unless actively enforced by leadership. There needs to be a counter story to the dominant one; a definition of success for Māori outside of eurocentricity, defined by Māori for and as Māori.

References:

Bishop, R. (2005). Pathologising the lived experiences of the indigenous Māori people of Aotearoa/New Zealand. In Shields, C. M., Bishop, R., & Mazawi, A. E. (2005). Pathologizing practices: The impact of deficit thinking on education. New York: P. Lang.

Gillborn, David; (2005) Education policy as an act of white supremacy: whiteness, critical race theory and education reform. Journal of Education Policy , 20 (4) pp. 485-505.

Milne, A. (2017). Coloring in the White Spaces: Reclaiming Cultural Identity in Whitestream Schools (Counterpoints). New York, USA: Peter Lang Publishing.

Penetito, W. (2010). ‘What counts as education: scholarship, philosophy, ideology’. What’s Māori about Māori education? Wellington: Victoria University Press. Pp 49-79.

Pihama, L., Smith, K., Taki, M., & Lee, J. (2004). A literature review on Kaupapa Māori and Māori education pedagogy. Auckland, NZ: The International Research Institute for Māori and Indigenous Education. Pp 13-33.

Shields, C. M., Bishop, R., & Mazawi, A. E. (2005). Pathologizing practices: The impact of deficit thinking on education. New York: P. Lang.

Te Tiriti O Waitangi is a document heralded by the crown as a legislative act allowing the crown to manufacture a seemingly equitable governmental landscape between tangata whenua and the British. The reality for Māori, however, has been a consistent and systematic institutionalised denigration of te ao Māori, as well as a generational subjugation under British rule (Stephenson, 2001). Wally Penetito gives an in depth and critical account of the effect this has had on Māori since the arrival of the English in his publication, What’s Māori About Māori Education? (2010). The current educational landscape, he argues, is designed to provide an environment where Māori are unable to achieve through a forced engagement with a Pākeha framework which works to suppress Māori identity (and thus cultural equanimity) through subsequent breaches of the Treaty agreement of tino rangtiratanga (2010). If we are to examine the validity of adherence to the Treaty through the lens of education, it is exceedingly obvious that not only are the rights of Māori to learn as Māori significantly impeded through eurocentricity, but also stymied through an institutional racism which is pervasive throughout New Zealand society. The current social zeitgeist reinforces deficit views of Māori, and places the onus back on tangata whenua to be responsible not only for the socio-economic impact on standardised educational ‘performance’, but the apparent lack of achievement by Māori learners. Walker concludes that education in Aotearoa is a tool used by the state to dilute Māori cultural practice (and identification) through the application of a Eurocentric ‘norm’, and to socialise Māori as a sub-equal labour force (1999). Despite several decades of well meaning task forces and ministry reports, it remains clear that Māori education is a Pākeha invention; a motion of paternalistic hegemony that attempts to placate through passive and subliminal denigration of the Māori identify (Penetito, 2010).

Schools assert what assimilation practices will be used to socialise indigenous children into a colonised society (Stephenson, 2001). Through education, the Pākeha government has ensured a systematic dismantling of the Māori identity through a re-socialisation into a Eurocentric world. With a dilution of ‘Māori-ness’, where the more Pākeha you become, the higher your likelihood of success is, the duality of Māori existence emerged. Through Te Tiriti, iwi’s autonomous governance was removed, and a colonising force began to attempt to extinguish the threat to the crown (i.e. Māori identity and tino rangatiratanga/mana ariki) (Penetito, 2010). The process of engagement with the Treaty was primitive, hasty, and ill designed (on behalf of the crown) post-Declaration of Independence, and the crown failed to have both documents aligned to ensure all signing parties were not only aware, but in full understanding of the immediate and future impacts of the apparent cessation of sovereignty (versus governance) on Māori and British alike. Durie asserts that the ‘two-tiered’ society that emerged from the misaligned translations of the Treaty created a privileged versus non-privileged class system, whereby Māori became the denounced and condemned (2013). Not only did Māori have to navigate a startlingly asymmetrical (and now legal) document, the British also introduced constitutional barriers to Māori self-actualisation and self-sufficiency under crown rule. The 1852 Constitution Act created barriers for Māori to have the right to vote (and thus have a voice) under the newly formed government, and provided the basis for the current racist views that Māori were complicit in their own cultural genocide (Durie, 2013). The incongruence of the various legislative changes made by the crown identify how the impetus of Te Tiriti was never to create an equitable foundation for co-growth of Māori and Pākeha together in a new nation; it was instead to have a thinly veiled legal green light to effect colonial change whilst being applauded for the apparently liberal approach to indigenous rights. The British were aware that Māori would not cede sovereignty to the crown as it appears in the English version, and the translational discrepancies between the two versions readily exemplify this (Penetito, 2010). This reflects current educational legislation, whereby tokenistic implementation of tikanga into classrooms is sporadic at best, and otherwise largely non-existent. By continuing to fail to value the Māori identity as valid and equal to Pākeha, the government reinforces the less-than effect of the Eurocentric majority (Durie, 2013).

Profit driven colonialism has worked as a benchmark for the neoliberal framework of modern mainstream education, moving further and further away from te ao Māori. The burden on Māori of the contradiction of Treaty agreements is pivotal to the institutionalisation of a capitalist economic system, and to the imposition of a centralised Pākeha state (Stephenson, 2001). Stephenson goes on to note that the Native Schools Act of 1867 was a way of quelling generational resistance to the sovereign right of the Pākeha government as sole governing power, which later builds into the role-assignment through deficit thinking of Māori as labourers, shearers, and, at best, secretaries (2001). Cultural transformation was used as a polite way of affirming cultural genocide in the reimagining of Māori as loyal British subjects within a European norm. Education was used as a form of social control in remote and impoverished settler schools, with the state using active intervention of education by making education both free and compulsory nationwide (making colonisation compulsory for Māori) (Stephenson, 2001 & Penetito, 2010). School thus became a vehicle through which the state was able to create “the New Zealand nation” and the duties and obligations of citizenship which held steadfast to a Eurocentric base of centrality, from which Māori were ultimately excluded whilst remaining ‘Māori’ (Stephenson, 2001). Through a form of social segregation through institutional education, the eugenically focused ‘racial fitness’ of hierarchal labour roles was imposed upon Māori, sentencing the indigenous to the third class. The Pākeha world is individualistic and monotheistic in sharp contrast to te ao Māori (Walker, 1999). With the state as the centralised production of knowledge, the transmission of a sanitised version of Pākeha cultural history through state sanctioned curriculum ensures the gaslighting of a painful Māori history, which seeks to erase and ignore the current racist social climate in Aotearoa (Walker, 1999). A first-hand account of the Māori experience is widely challenged by Pākeha unwilling to examine the unsavoury actions of their ancestors in relation to their point of privilege – a foundation built on the shoulders of Māori.

Māori self-determination is a driving force behind initiatives such as kohanga reo and kura Kaupapa (Durie, 1995). Despite existing within a Pākeha educational framework, the barriers Māori have had to face to implement these have been immense. Bureaucratic and policy hurdles means that the neo-liberal approach (and thus business model) of Māori-centric schooling remains entrenched in a non-Māori stronghold (Durie, 1995 & Penetito, 2010). If we first turn to the Ministry of Education as a governing body in Aotearoa, its focus on biculturalism and multiculturalism reality identifies a ‘post-biculturalism’ as markedly lacking in Māori actualisation as either a parallel or an independent and ‘zeitgeistic-ally’ valid concept (Durie, 1995). Within the Ministry of Education (and other government sectors), Pākeha commodification of Māori intellectual labour through state-hiring of vast numbers of Māori staff is a coopting of personnel who were subsequently unable to fully participate in iwi initiatives (furthering the assimilation into the colonising majority). The emotional labour of Māori thus doubled by the duality of existing in a Pākeha framework whilst having to be performatively, yet unobservedly, Māori. Hidden behind a shroud of altruism and a misguidedly liberal attempt to provide Māori with an equitable foundation to exist successfully within a Eurocentric framework disallows an effective dialogue on this commodification. The trickle down effect of this, naturally, occurs within schools, where brief tokenistic acquisitions of tikanga and Māori concepts fall woefully short of a valid and holistic implementation within and around curriculum and daily school life. Penetito identifies the various (and lengthy) policies, practices, and strategies that have been implemented to improve and encourage participation in mainstream education, however the prioritising of Pākeha education over Māori, as well as the enforcement of institutionalisation over Māori-centric schooling centres ensures that degree of control and educational amalgamation (2010). Durie notes that these legislative barriers show an effort is being made to “deprive Māori learners of the opportunity to study through the medium of te reo Māori” (2010). This denial of a taonga is a direct misadherence to te Tiriti, and identifies how the crown remains focused on erroneous issues of social policy, rather than the advancement of tikanga and te ao Māori through an equitable implementation into educational policy . Through this concerted effort, the crown has been able to begin a cultural dissimilation of Māori through a Eurocentric forced assimilation of European norms, and a vicious denigration of tikanga and te ao Māori. True acculturation has been the only way forward in a non-subordinate role for Māori into mainstream society, furthering the initial goals of those who created Te Tiriti.

Pākeha well meaning, yet misguided initiatives such as the implementation of institutional marae as an effective halfway point for Māori existing within a Pākeha centric elitist institution (such as a university) show that the belief of how Māori exist as Māori is perceived as performative and ritualistic – shallow in its endeavour. Institutional marae belong to the institution they are situated upon – usually a Pākeha, elitist body that is using tikanga in a tokenistic application of an apparent movement into an equitable future, or as a ‘halfway house’ for Māori and Pākeha alike to engage in a watered down and out of context Māoridom (Penetito, 2010). Penetito continues to identify how tauiwi are often compulsorily engaged in enforced weekends away on these marae, which are an exercise in endurance and seek only to highlight the discomfort of tauiwi in te ao Māori, furthering the mission of eurocentricity to magnify its lack of usefulness in current society (within multiculturalism) (2010). We need to ensure that Māori culture remains intact through strengthening and preservation, rather than coopting and assimilation/integration. Assimilationist policies make it easier to transition from the Māori to the Pākeha world with a shedding of an indigenous identity, but make it increasingly difficult to live as Māori within a Pākeha societal framework, or for tauiwi to conceptualise the importance of Māori to exist as Māori (Penetito, 2010). There is an evident lack of a mirror in Pākeha education that reflects te ao Māori in anything relatable aside from tokenistic displays of “kotahitanga” as a school value, an award winning kapa haka group, or an institutional marae. This means that Māori struggles will consistently be seen as performative as the perceived benefit of its cultural assimilation and implementation.

Pākeha education is designed and administered through the Eurocentric norm, with Māori expected to either keep up or step off, with any perceived failure deemed to be the fault of the individual and/or the whānau, not the context in which they are placed. Māori students are transformed from ‘learners’ into subjects, items to be studied and counted towards a badge of either woe (and more funding) or cultural ‘celebration’ (and praise from the liberal white majority). How does the identification of the Māori self-as-an-other influence the acquisition of Pākeha concepts through a Eurocentric education system? The overwhelming evidence shows that this duality, alongside the endurance of living under a racist government, has a markedly negative effect on rangatahi and tamariki in mainstream schooling (Penetito, 2010 & Stephens, 2001). The imposed versus chosen identity of Other or Assimilated mean that rangatahi are having to adopt a contorted identity that traverses their varied environments, social expectations, and responsibilities; all whilst having to learn and develop as teens. Most of us are awkward and difficult during these years without the added pressures of invisible, yet enormous social navigation. We as a society need to move away from the reductionist views of tokenistic cultural value for Pākeha and their comfort with te ao Māori, instead moving into a Māori driven, Māori influenced mode of education as a norm, not a ‘character’ or ‘charter’ environment. Pākeha arranged Māori education is a system designed for failure. Students are disenfranchised and disempowered, yet held to squeaky clean standards of character, whilst at the same time having the expectational bar set so low that to exceed this is surprising to the euro-norm at every turn. This systemic failure is comprehensive, and biased failures in the system evidence that these systemic failures serve an interest for someone/something (Penetito, 2010). Penetito notes that the Waitangi Tribunal found that “judged by the system’s own standards, Māori children are not being successfully taught, and for this reason alone, quite apart from the duty to protect the Māori language, the education system is being operated in breach of the Treaty” (2010). He also believes that “the existing system is based around a regulatory framework that at best maintains Māori communities at the margins of society, and at worst converts Māori individuals into brown-skinned Pākeha (2010). If we apply the ‘logic of sameness’ to Aotearoa, the existence of Māori as Māori cannot be conceptualised outside of a Pākeha framework (Penetito, 2010). Thus, for Māori to be currently viewed as a self-actualising entity, the Eurocentric norm needs to be dismantled and reimagined as cooperative rather than authoritive, with the removal of the coercive and exclusive ideal as Pākeha education being both essential and valuable to Māori above a Māori centred education for success in future endeavours.

Penetito’s work collates the Pākeha centric reports on Māori education which are driven by global change, rather than the identification of a need for an equitable indigenous educational framework in New Zealand (2010). He identified that, whilst there was an acknowledgement of the need for tikanga in relation to Māori in education, that the success of Māori and the responsibility for academic achievement remained with Māori (without the need for a critical examination into the factors that inhibit this). There were few Māori involved in the application of these early reports. The move towards a neo-liberal framework and business model of education becomes apparent in the reports in the 1980’s, such as the Picot Report in 1988, which had a majority of businessmen on the taskforce, as opposed to Māori educators/iwi (2010). Whilst the Picot Report accurately identified the need for the imminent inclusion of te reo in schools for Māori to build on as learners, it did so through a business model that identified simple and (seemingly) obvious suggestions for educational utopia without having the knowledge or the understanding of how this translates in front-line teaching within the current social context. This is critically consistent in education ‘reform’ (for lack of a better word) and feeds into the view of policy makers being overtly optimistic at best, and woefully out of touch at worst. Highly revolutionary at the time, due to its blatant identification of the need for a change in establishment, its application has unfortunately not been reflected in current practice. Penetito builds on this by stating the partnerships suggested in the report ended between bureaucratic institutions. He also notes that Te Tiriti remains as a component of rhetoric, rather than reality in adherence to Māori education (2010). A continued lack of goal oriented approaches to educational equity are apparent in further reports (Māori Education Commission Report, 1998-1999) where the nuances of the inequality and its impact on educational achievement in Māori are further identified, however despite critical acknowledgement there has been no real change incited from Ministry-driven reports. Kaupapa Māori schools have circumnavigated a Pākeha framework with which to input Māori concepts, as opposed to constructing Māori-based schools with foundations in tikanga and iwi involvement (Penetito, 2010). These reports identify the power indifference of the overarching structure, and how Māori are often requested and required to be teachers to Pākeha of te ao Māori so it can be firmly ignored in its application to educational equity and progress. Penetito relates this back to Hobson’s encapsulation of Māori as “New Zealanders” in signing te Tiriti, and ceding apparent sovereignty (versus rangatiratanga and mana ariki) to the crown. He iwi tahi tātou is espoused by racist Pākeha nationwide when discussing Māori centric issues that require even a shred of empathetic reasoning.

Disestablishment of the current monocultural educational (and governmental) framework is essential to rebuilding a foundation where Māori can learn and succeed as Māori alongside Pākeha in education and society. The immediate need is for a transformation of a mass consciousness – the social zeitgeist of Aotearoa into equity, instead of the ill-informed and misguided attempts at perceived equality√. Dismantling the status quo, the cultural binary, where one must exist exclusive at one end of a continuum that is heavily weighted towards the Pākeha side (where the more ‘Māori’ you go, the more the odds are stacked against you) is essential for its success. This binary will remain diametrically opposed in its application, hence the viability of any hope of equity in comparison to this cultural duality being mutually exclusive in its wish/need for survival. The dichotomy of Pākeha education will continue to fail, marginalise, and denigrate Māori until the hegemonic approach to education is reimagined to provide for all, not just Pākeha in its constitution.

References:

Durie, M.H. (1995). Beyond 1852: Māori, the state and a New Zealand constitution. Sites no. 30. Autumn.

Flears, A. & Spoonley, P., (1999). Maori policy: reconstructing a relationship. In Fleras, A., & Spoonley, P. (1999). Recalling Aotearoa : indigenous politics and ethnic relations in New Zealand, pp 185-227. Melbourne ; Oxford : Oxford University Press, 1999.

McFarlane, A.H., (2015). Restlessness, Resoluteness and Reason: Looking Back at 50 Years of Maori Education. New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies, 50 (pp.177-193).

Penetito, W. (2010). Whats Māori about Māori education? the struggle for a meaningful context. Wellington, N.Z: Victoria University Press.

Shield, C.M.,R. & Mazawi, A.E. (2005) Pathologizing practices: The impact of deficit thinking on education (Chapter 1 pp. 1-22). New York: Peter Lang.

Stephenson, M. (2001). Education and creating New Zealanders. Paper presented at NZARE conference, Christchurch, New Zealand. Retrieved from http://www.nzabe.ac.nz/conferences/2001/a_main_frameset.htm

Walker, R.J. (1999). Māori sovereignty, colonial and post colonial discourses in Australia, Canada and New Zealand. In P. Havemann (Ed) Indigenous peoples rights (pp 108-122).Auckland: Oxford University Press.

You teach from your own experience as a cultural member. Education in Aotearoa is Eurocentric in essence, despite increasing efforts, and for this to be further perpetrated by an authoritative teacher enhances the marginalisation of non-European learners. Within the structural hierarchy of teacher to student, it is essential that teachers are not only aware, but increasingly attuned to what this means in a bicultural and multicultural education setting (Bell, 2011). Bell notes how culturally responsive teaching is inherently political in its application, is emancipatory, and negates the stereotypical application of deficit thinking held by pervasive biased beliefs (2011). It is not equal opportunity, but equity of outcomes which needs to be at the forefront of any teaching pedagogy.

Fraser and Hill stress that a culturally responsive pedagogy is essential for dismantling the overarching implications of Māori and Pasifika non-engagement in learning, and enhancing both the achievement and enjoyment for previously marginalised students (2016). The government has begun tentative exploration of indigenous rights, however this is not enough to bolster the limited ability for structural self-sufficiency of Māori and increase the diminishing local community where tikanga Māori is the norm (Tawhai, 2013). There is no mention of Māori as tangata whenua in the treaty – their “citizenship” was part of a global, world membership of colonial Britain. This effectively erases indigenous and cultural governing structures, and thus identity as Māori. Furthermore, hapū and iwi were not treated as a collective identity, which removes yet another practice of Māori cultural beliefs – the individual existed only in the colonialist view and was another tool for reducing self-governance of Māori (Tawhai, 2013).

Not only are socio-economic and parental influence important, but the long lasting effects of colonialism and lack of Māori achievement in school which allows for a consistent degree of disengagement in learning (Nuthall, 2007). Distinctive lack of cultural engagement is seen with low-achieving students, which furthers the stronghold of other avenues such as gang membership to foster that sense of community and belonging. Nuthall also noted unwillingness of other students to engage in talks of Pasifika culture as experienced by their peers (2007). His research found marginalisation felt by students was enhanced by exclusionary language of the teacher, and lack of involvement of anything other than verbal Māori cues (Nuthall, 2007). This social segregation reinforces inequality, and is further perpetrated by “ethnic blindness” of teachers. By refusing to acknowledge multiculturalism in the classroom, you are denying an aspect of a student’s identity and extending institutional bias (Fraser & Hill, 2016).

Bi-cultural & multi-cultural education:

Bicultural education is the rubric from where teachers approach both tikanga Māori cultural practices and a European educational framework. We are a bicultural nation (as well as a multicultural society), meaning that both of these aspects must be fully integrated and implemented for the benefit of the educational majority. Tātaiako shows us that by combining ako, whanaungatanga, tangata whenuatanga, manaakitanga & wānanga competencies, we can bolster and enable Māori success in education. By participating with both learners and communities (whānau, hapū, iwi), an inclusive approach to bicultural education is able to be achieved to a greater extent (Te Kāwanatanga o Aotearoa, 2016). Wānanga gives Māori community room for self-governance within an educational framework which may differ from a teacher’s experience. This is essential to note, especially the importance of whanangatanga for teachers in understanding their position of privilege and power within a bicultural and multicultural postcolonial social construct (Te Kāwanatanga o Aotearoa , 2016).

Multicultural education stems from our national community and the vibrancy of ethnicities that this includes (Bell, 2011). Acknowledgement and exploration of various ethnic groups identifies belonging to a global community, and aids in understanding and gaining empathy for a wide range of religious, cultural, and social practices. Implementing multicultural practices into the classroom enhances the learning experience all involved, and aids in providing a base of acceptance for the various culturally diverse members of the classroom.

The similarities of both bicultural and multicultural education are easily identifiable, with a collective acknowledgement of a non-European cultural membership (or at least non-pākeha). The appropriate investigation and celebration of cultural differences, as well as how they fit into a New Zealand educational setting are consistent between the two – for example, Matariki, observation of Ramadan, Chinese New Year, Diwali etc. We see membership in multicultural groups such as Pasifika students performing at PolyFest which is encouraged and supported.

Conversely, bicultural education has the specific task of ensuring the Treaty of Waitangi is being acknowledged, as well as the indigenous implications of colonialism. Whilst these issues occur in one form or another in numerous other countries, they are New Zealand-centric in nature, and specifically engage with indigenous Māori practice in a postcolonial setting.

Benefits of bi-cultural & multi-cultural approaches:

Implementing the guiding principles, tools, and strategies of Tātaiako and Ka Hikitia in conjunction with the New Zealand Curriculum [NZC], ensures the development of community relationships and engagement with Māori will be enhanced. This is beneficial for not only students, but parents who perhaps had a negative schooling experience. The results of a bicultural approach to education means that a multicultural engagement of students is easily implemented into this pedagogy. The benefits of this for ALL students, not just Māori, are tenfold.

Firstly, Māori students will have the opportunity for higher engagement if tikanga is observed, with a culturally relevant learning environment providing a holistic base for learning (Bell, 2011). By following the practice of tikanga Māori in the classroom, a community engagement (including whānau and parents) means that a collective model of support will be put in place to aid in the academic success of Maori students. Parental engagement has a significant effect on the attitudes towards learning, and if parents struggled at school it is likelier that the children will have a pervasively negative attitude towards it as well (Rahsbrooke, 2013).

Secondly, the implementation of a culturally appropriate learning environment for Māori means that the observance of other cultural belief systems will be seen as equally important by students (if an inclusive approach is adopted and modelled by the teacher). For those with cultural membership outside of Māori or Pākeha identification, a sense of cultural expression and observation is key in providing a safe learning environment of all students.

Thirdly, for the European majority, the observation of bicultural and multicultural practice in education intensely aids in the wider understanding of racial and ethnic inequality. Through empathetic exploration and understanding of both Māori and (for example) Pasifika cultural practices, is the first step in identifying racial privilege and the widespread and long lasting effects of colonialism. By acknowledging and participating in a bicultural and multicultural society through education, cultural/racial/ethnic majority students can be the beginning of the dismantling of the institutional bias and deficit stereotypes pervasive in society.

Expression of multi-cultural & bi-cultural context:

(review of an education provider's mission statement)

The school’s mission statement and values touch on the subject of diversity, and at first glance seem to promote the valued variety of students to achieve together. The vision statement uses vague key words also, with “culturally located” being apparently inclusive of a ethnically diverse school population. Native trees and a koru are used to express their indigenous and “culturally located” ethos, as well as a picture of the kapa haka group. This seems to be a theme with the school, with the house system also having Māori identifiers. Something to note in the first three pages of the document is the school’s unwillingness to lend itself to any concrete identification of cultural exploration. The initial evaluation is one of “ticking the boxes” to keep the ERO wolves at bay. This spoon-fed Māoridom is essentially unhelpful for bicultural education, and lends itself to nothing more than token key words.

Significant areas to strengthen & prioritise:

1). The school’s inclusion of the community as a whole is through newsletters, with nothing else in the way of community engagement. This does not even begin to touch on the base of tikanga Māori and community identity and engagement, which in turn will only exacerbate the truancy problem beginning to emerge. Pasifika students are also noted as having high levels of truancy – again highly likely to the lack of cohesion between school, home, and the community. A strong sense of “otherness” is most likely felt in a highly Eurocentric learning environment.

2). In fact, there is no mention of Pasifika at all aside from the truancy note from ERO. Being “culturally located” does not mean simply noting Māori trees as house names, it is having a Pasifika group (however small), having times in the year to celebrate various cultural events, and normalising multiculturalism within classroom teaching practice. Pasifika students are not the only members of the multicultural school environment, with students from China, Vietnam, South Korea, and Germany having a vast amount of ethnic and cultural diversity to enrich the school. This bipartisan approach to multiculturalism is inherently unhelpful – either being European, Māori, or “other” scaffolds a cultural hierarchy which reinforces a wider social construct.

3). There is no pastoral care for Māori, Pasifika, or international students. It contradicts the term ‘pastoral care’, if there is not a culturally relevant environment to feel safe, heard, and most importantly understood. Engagement with truant students by an authoritative figure that will have little to no experience in belonging to a minority colonised culture is going to be ultimately unhelpful, and enhance the feeling of marginalisation within a school setting, as well as in the larger community.

4). The token use of Māori key phrases borders on mockery if there is no cultural follow through. Tikanga Māori is unable to be upheld and ethically observed if it is routinely picked apart at the shallowest of levels. Furthering this, the community environment of the classrooms evidences the unilateral hierarchical structure of teacher teaching to students, as opposed to a community environment where learning is shared and investigated together.

To conclude, whilst commendable efforts are being made to “reduce” or “reverse” the effects of colonialist cultural genocide of Māori in Aotearoa, a shift in the institutionalised approach not only by the education sector, but by the national community as a whole is essential. Simply writing the date on the board in te reo, and using “kia ora” as a greeting is a weak display of tokenism and ultimately reinforces the idea that tikanga Māori must only be applied at face value. Bicultural and multicultural education are essential to the enhancement of academic success for all students, and is vitally important for education in Aotearoa.

References:

Bell, B. (2011). Theorising Teaching in Secondary Classrooms: Understanding our practice from a sociocultural perspective. Cornwall, UK: Routledge.

Fraser, D., & Hill, M. (Eds.). (2016). The Professional Practice of Teaching in New Zealand (5th ed.). Victoria, Australia: Cengage Learning. (Original work published 2012).

George, A. S., Brown, S., & O'Neill, J. (Eds.). (2014). Facing The Big Questions In Teaching: Purpose, power and learning (2nd ed.). Victoria, Australia: Cengage Learning. (Original work published 2009).

Graham, L., Berman, J., & Bellert, A. (2015). Sustainable Learning: Inclusive practices for 21st century classrooms. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.

Mullholland, M., & Tawhai, V. (2010). Weeping Waters: The Treaty of Waitangi and Constitutional Change. Wellington, New Zealand: Huia Publishers.

Nuthall, G. (2007). The Hidden LIves of Learners. Wellington, New Zealand: NZCER Press.

Rashbrooke, M. (Ed.). (2013). Inequality: A New Zealand Crisis. Wellington, New Zealand: Bridget Williams Books Limited.

Te Kāwanatanga o Aotearoa. (2013). Summary of Ka Hikitia: Accelerating success 2013 - 2017. Aotearoa: Te Tāhuhu o Te Mātauranga.

Te Kāwanatanga o Aotearoa. (2016). Tātaiako: Cultural competencies for teachers of Māori leaners. Aotearoa: Matatū Aotearoa.

This report shows just one example of how we can help create and facilitate a positive and culturally relevant change in direction to a more equitable learning environment for rangatahi in Aotearoa.

"School A" had a change of leadership, meaning a new principal with fresh ideas, and a keen desire to improve literacy school-wide. The stagnant state of Māori achievement needed a revamp, and a step in the right direction. We identified that whānau involvement in the co-construction of a culturally relevant curriculum was essential for improving the holistic wellbeing of Māori learners and their place as tangaga whenua within a mainstream environment.

Engagement of whānau in education is imperative to ensuring adequate input, voice, and recognition of the unique experience of rangatahi in mainstream secondary schooling. Due to the monocultural environment most Māori learners are present in, tikanga Māori is seldom or sloppily (note - tokenistically) observed, and Māori are inadequately supported to learn as Māori (Tuhiwai-Smith, 2005, Bishop, 2015). Whānau, hapū, and iwi involvement are imperative to locally centric and Māori driven pedagogical practice in mainstream schooling, and the challenge for many schools is to first build relationships, before sitting back and listening. A kaupapa Māori approach to collaborating with whānau ensures a Māori centred voice is able to emerge when discussing what is best for Māori (Tuhiwai-Smith, 2005). School A had a change in senior leadership, which welcomed a subsequent change in direction, and an attempt at emerging from a Eurocentric, latently deficit focussed approach to one of cultural richness - with sufficient collaboration with local iwi. The results enabled Māori learners to be adequately catered for as the norm, and equitable attitudes to measures of success being co-constructed with staff and whānau.

Observation of te ao Māori not just at home, but as a social navigation outside of school life was a concept few staff had considered prior to meeting with whānau. What this highlighted throughout the process was, despite living beside another for several decades, most tauiwi had little concept or understanding of what it was like to be Māori in Aotearoa (Manning, 2012). Kanohi ki te kanohi discussions and collaboration proved invaluable when staff who (perhaps) held dated views of pedagogical practice or social change experienced difficulties in grasping the importance of the project. The immense effort on behalf of the senior leadership team, Kaumātua, and whānau magnifies how mainstream schools are well within their capabilities to ensure Māori learners are equitably catered for, and whānau feel heard, valued, and respected as whānau.

Extensive research has been conducted into the value of whānau involvement in education. This report looks at how whānau are able to shape and preserve education for rangatahi as Māori learners at School A. The rationale for engaging with whānau are exemplified in Penetito’s various publications, where he argues that whilst tikanga is being implemented into curriculum and pedagogy (however sporadically and with varying degrees of enthusiasm), this is still being conducted within a Eurocentric framework laid out by the Ministry of Education (2010). Here Penetito outlines how the barriers to learning remain through the continued other-ing of Māori learners with distinct and separate paradigms, instead of encompassing a kaupapa Māori approach as an educational practice (2009). Russell Bishop mirrors Penetito’s sentiments when noting the neo-liberal fallacy of the education sector, and how the privatisation and commercialisation of education has led to a standardised, credit-harvesting colonial institution (2005). Measured success in education is a precursor for economic success in the future, with the unequitable cultural disparity in education results furthering the generational gap in economic parity between Māori and tauiwi. For Māori learners to achieve Pākeha measures of success in education means having to consistently navigate a duality throughout the day. Not only are rangatahi expected to conform to Eurocentric norms and practices whilst at school, they must apply themselves in a historically hostile socio-political environment whilst attempting to learn as an othered person. For some, this challenge is understandably exceedingly difficult, and the extensive disparity in perceived success and achievement is startling when compared to Pākeha peers (Hutchings et al, 2012). The identifiable gaps in educational achievement between Māori and non-Māori have been caused through a colonial, imperalist apprach to individualised and monocultural education, and can therefore only be remedied with extensive input from a culturally-centric conceptual understanding.

School A’s Approach:

School A is situated in a semi-rural small town with an increasing number of residents movingg in from outside main centres. The roll has suddenly expanded from a steady ~900 students to over 1,200 students in the past three years. There has been a large shift in teacher movement, with several teachers reaching retirement, moving out of the area, or undertaking a new employment direction. The school has a large Māori cohort, with 45% of learners identifying as Māori, 50% as Pākeha, and 5% as Pacifika, Asian, Indian, or other European. Despite the large proportion of Māori students, the school’s reputation is one of an outdated, agricultral, extensively European and patriarchal framework. Their previous ERO report noted how the gap in Māori achievement and culturally responsive pedagogy was an area of concern for future success of Māori, and that the school provided few opportunities for Māori to learn as Māori.

The senior management team, along with heads of departments, agreed that a robust culturally appropriate curriculum needed to be implement to address the concerns in the ERO report, and to involve whānau in the learning process of rangatahi in the school. Manning’s work, whilst related to Early Childhood Education [ECE], makes a poignant statement about the distinct necessity to ensure that beginning teachers have a supportive platform to implement resources such as Tātaiako into their pedagogy (2012). Without significant whānau, hapū and iwi input, a continuous recycling of dated and essentially limiting practice will continue. School A noted this at an end of year discussion between heads of faculty, deans, and senior staff members regarding the NCEA results of the year. The gap in achievement needed to be addressed, and thus far no input from whānau and iwi had been sought regarding their tamariki’s place and wellbeing at the school. They had few Māori staff members and a high number of beginning teachers starting in the new school year, thus were aware that a radically implemented method of seeking a culturally competent outline within which to apply the curriculum and teaching practice was necessary. What is notable here, is the trickle down effect that having an on-board principal has on the motivation and agreeability of seasoned staff members in rising to the opportunity to accept a change in mindset and to grow as both teachers and members of the community. This strengh of leadership is, as far as consistency and longevity are concerned, essential for ensuring whānau are able to trust in the school and the leadership team as being sincere and committed, and not just tokenising their involvement for points.

The first step for School A was building relationships with local hapū and iwi to begin to bridge the gap and listen to where they believed a good point of reference to start would be. Local Kaumātua had whānau links to one of the Māori members of staff who was able to approach them informally before introducing senior staff. This was fortuitous, as the previous principal was lacking in both tact and opennes, something which marred relationships between iwi and the school before the new principal came in. This built over the holidays, with the senior leadership team collaborating with Kaumātua to draft a rough outline of how the school could work to re-engage whānau with the school, provide ample opportunities for whānau to have significant input into the curriculum, and also implementation of tikanga into daily school life. Penetito’s sentiments were observed with regards to this building of relationships with whānau and iwi in this beginning stages, as merely discussing issues, or gauging a brief overview about hopes and dreams for the future of Māori in mainstream education is woefully insufficient (2010). This essential collaboration with Kāumatua in implementing a kaupapa Māori approach to communicating with whānau ensures that a Eurocentric imposition of acquisition is not being interred, albeit with the best of intentions.

Teaching and administration staff were informed of the intent to involve whānau in the construction of a culturally appropriate curriculum through various hui and iwi collaboration. After initial consultation, staff were asked what clarification on pedagogical changes and praxis whānau could provide more information on for teachers to begin implementing this into their day to day practice. A list of questions for whānau that emerged were:

How do you locate yourself as Māori within mainstream Pākeha education?What does success for your rangatahi look like as a whānau? As a hapū and iwi?What do whānau need from teachers in order to feel welcomed and heard in day to day interactions, and during teacher/whānau meetings.What do you wish you had at school?What do your tamariki need to exist as Māori within a mainstream setting?Would you like to see more te reo in classes?How often would you like to see school staff at marae gatherings and events? How important is this to you as whānau?

What was evident was the willingness of tauiwi teachers to attempt to begin to conceptualise where they fit into the power paradigm within the schooling system, and what they could to in order to reduce the disparity in power-ownership between whānau and School A.

In consultation with Kaumātua, whānau were invited to a hui at the school wharenui. This was done with a notification sheet in both te reo and English to ensure wider accessibility to the information, and included an overview of the structure of the school, as well as the design of the current curriculum. A description of and an invitation to run for a place on the Board of Trustees [BOT] and the input they have in the school was also included. BOT members were present to provide further illumination on their role, and to discuss how they are a mediating structure between the community and the school. BOT were also there to reflect upon how they could better involve whānau in the governing aspects of the school. The new principal was officially introduced to whānau, who had an opportunity to ask questions about their vision for the school, before the facilitation of discussion was passed back to the Kaumātua. Whānau were invited to air their issues with the design and application of the current curriculum, and how it sat with their views of what a culturally competent practice were. School A and Kaumātua had discussed previously that the school was interested in what locally relevant concepts they could introduce into the curriculum. What is essential here is that School A took the initiative to actively seek collaborative design on their curriculum instead of simply discussing views with whānau before continuing in a pseudo-collaborative, yet sufficiently lacking in applicable practice (Penetito, 2010, Bishop, 2015). Here clarity is essential, as miscommunication and a lack of transparency are the foundations for schools continuing to misinterperet and misrepresent whānau views (Bishop, 2005). At the conclusion of the hui, whānau were given an email for further ideas that they may have thought of upon reflection, which wouid be forwarded to the senior leadership team. The questions posed by teaching staff were also distributed, and their answers recorded at length to be dispersed and discussed at the next staff meeting. The final aspect of the hui was a goal setting exercise, where whānau were able to express the goals for their own children, and secondly for how the school as a whole fit in with whānau and iwi and future collaboration. Ways for the whole staff to begin to build relationships with whānau at the beginning of the year were discussed, and it was agreed that at the beginning of the school year (and each term) the school would hold whānau evenings during the first or second week. These would be held on Monday, Wednesday and Friday for those who are unable to make it some nights. This ensured that whānau are presented with ways to work around an already busy routine so there are more chances to meet with staff, and there is no pressure to change routine if they are unable to make it on a certain day. This method also allows whānau who are unable to come together to come separately.

One aspect that arose from the whānau hui, was the need for transparency and communication from the BOT. Whānau felt largely in the dark about the role of BOT and how this related to them and the learning of their rangatahi. A proposed outcome that was later implemented was that BOT and Kaumātua would spend time meeting and discussing the vision and momentum of the school together prior to each BOT meeting to ensure tikanga is implemented from the top down. There was also the introduction of a Māori student representative that compiled reports to be sent to BOT meetings. This would have a collation of the overall feelings of how Māori learners viewed the success of a more dynamic and culturally appropriate curriculum, and the areas that the school needed to improve upon further in order to streamline, and perhaps provide more support to teachers that were finding some concepts difficult to grasp initially. The rationate behind input from whānau, iwi, and rangatahi at BOT meetings (which would then be discussed with school staff), was that a collective voice would become apparent. This means that consistent feedback from each overarching perspective would be able to be taken into account. When you contrast this to the previous arrangement of a tiered heirarchal power structure with almost zero whānau input to discussion, let alone construction of curriculum design, and no rangatahi voice whatsoever; the increase in admin and initial energy output are miniscule in comparison to the opportunity afforded by a kaupapa Māori approach to collaborative work with iwi and whānau.

The extensive historical knowledge and experience of local Kaumātua was previously ignored and unutilised by the exiting principal. The wealth of cultural relevance possessed by iwi elders ensured that local, place-based tikanga was able to be integrated into the curriculum that was directly specific to the Māori learners in the school. Each iwi and hapū will have extensive and rich history linking to various geographical locations and phenomena in the area, providing extensive opportunities for iwi-centric investigation and learning for rangatahi (both Māori and Pākeha) (Penetito, 2010). Local waiata, haka, and kanikani can be shared with rangatahi who whakapapa to local iwi, and the historical relevance aiding in building a conceptual foundation for tauiwi students. By teaching Māori using a placed based framework, their identity as Māori is preserved, valued, and enriched through day to day engagement with their education, as opposed to only outside of school, at home, or at marae events. Valuing Māori-dom without co-opting its essence respects learners identity without capitalising on its acquisition.

After an extensive collaborative effort, feedback and evidence to whānau was an imperative aspect that required addressing to indicate and evidence positive outcomes of hui and collaboration. Rangatahi were consulted, and their idea to show parents and whānau their learning was conducted in whānau evenings held at the end of the term to showcase learning. This was an opportunity for students to teach groups of whānau about a concept they have learned in regards to local tikanga and how that has fit in with their learning in a wider context. The benefits to this approach included tauiwi parents having a tikanga-based curriculum evidenced with success and (ideally) enthusiasm by their children. As Pākeha parents may have little to no understanding of tikanga and te ao Māori, this provides a platform for their children to take an educational and guiding role in teaching their families about where they fit into the overarching power paradigm. To conclude the trial year of tikanga implementation, School A organised an end of year hui to gauge success by whanau and rangatahi through extensive discussion and evaluation. Non-Māori parents were asked to clarify how their views and understanding of tikanga and te ao Māori have grown, and what impact this has had on the views of their own socio-political position, but their inherent bias as non-Māori.

One example of successful implementation of tikanga Māori as a learning platform is the initiative from Ngāti Kahunguru. Ngāti Kahungunu are an iwi who have taken tikanga-based curriculum in mainstream schooling into a wider national view. Their evidence based approach to the implementation of a Māori-centric learning environment stem from the view that language and identity are essential for self-actualisation and wellbeing of tangata whenua (Jahnke, 2012). By eschewing a deficit viewpoint in regards to Māori achievement, Ngāti Kahungunu provide a strengths-based platform for Māori achievement to be gauged as Māori. Using a kaupapa Māori approach in their proccess, Māori voice remains at the forefront of any research, consultation, and discussion with mainstream schools. A mainstream approach to education provides few opportunities for Māori to succeed and grow unimpeded as Māori outside of performing arts or sport, and the efforts of Ngāti Kahungunu ensure that these disparities are illuminated in mainstream education, and identified as one of the driving forces between the inequity in achievement under national standards of success.

Recommendations:

School A made monumental steps forward in implementing a culturally relevant and ethical curriculum into their school practice. By identifying the unequal power structures between the school and whānau, an equitable approach was able to be constructed through a kaupapa Māori view of collaboration. Still, the work with whānau is still a burgeoning success and will require further review, critique, and evaluation to continue on a forward and upward trajectory. One recommendation would be a Kaumātua led critique and evaluation of the school’s approach to involving whānau in the curriculum design of the school. For example, were all school staff respectful and receptive to whānau? Do whānau feel the school has provided an equitable space for the opportunity to improve the experience for Māori learners in a mainstream school? What could the school do to improve upon for next year? Constant migration to an equitable future is crucial to maintaining momentum for success. Another recommendation would be an opportunity for whānau to reflect on their engagement with the school, and how they view an increase in engagement has aided their rangatahi in feeling more at ease in Pākeha schooling, along with a holistic view at the overall success of the person. Have the success criteria set out by whānau been accessible to rangatahi? What role do whānau see in the future of the collaboration with School A? By coming together to workshop and brainstorm in whānau centric hui, a ‘radical’ approach will be streamlined into normality.

A concerted effort from School A to accommodate whānau was imperative to evidence a strong commitment to integrating whānau into the construction of a culturally relevant environment for Māori learners (Penetito, 2009). The school had made large strides towards creating a collaborative environment where whānau had not only a strong voice, but the power to steer curriculum design towards a kaupapa Māori approach of tikanga-lead learning. The Ministry of Education [MOE] cultural competency guidelines, Tātaiako, identifies the imporatance of the acquisition of Place Based Education (PBE) for teachers to implement into their curriculum (MOE, 2011). PBE is being actively utlised in collaboration with whānau. Simply asking, “what will benefit this community”, and “what do the community want” is identifying a location within which te ao Māori exists and must be observed and understood within the concept of a teaching practice (Penetito, 2010). This development of cultural literacy will ensure that issues (like the ECE tone-deafness Manning notes in Ōtautahi, 2012) are able to be minimised as or even before they arise due to a concsientious adherence and observation of tikanga. Tauiwi teachers are especially quick to rally a defence or dismissal of critique or clarification surrounding their use (or misuse in Manning’s case) of Māori cultural concepts, however this needs to be robustly addressed through extensive professional development in order to weed these views out (Bishop, 2015). Personal location of onseself first as an individual, then as an educator needs to be conceptualised in order to identify an imbalance in a power dynamic, or to acknowledge and address the socio-political (and economic) differences between various staff, students, and senior management.

References:

Anaru, N. A. (2011). A Critical Analysis of the Impact of Colonisation on the Māori Language through an Examination of Political Theory (Masters Thesis, Auckland University, 2011) (pp. 1-97). Auckland University.

Bishop, R. (1999). Kaupapa Māori research: An indigenous approach to creating knowledge. In N. Robertson, Maori and psychology: Research and practice. Proceedings of a symposium sponsored by the Maori & Psychology Research Unit, Department of Psychology (pp. 1-6). Hamilton: Māori and Psychology Research Unit, University of Waikato.

Bishop, R. (2005). Freeing ourselves from neo-Colonial domination in research: A kaupapa Māori approach to creating knowledge. In: Denzin N and Lincoln Y (eds) The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research. 3rd ed. London: Sage, 109–138.

Hutchings, J., Barnes, A., Taupō, K., Bright, N., Pihama, L., & Lee, J. (2012). Kia Puāwaitia, Ngā Tūmanaki: Critical issues for Whānau in Māori Education. New Zealand Council for Educational Research: Te Rūnanga O Aotearoa Mõ Te Rangahau I Te Mātauranga Wellington.

Jahnke, H. (2012). Beyond Legitimation: A Tribal Response to Māori education in Aotearoa New Zealand. Australian Journal of Indigenous Education. Vol41:2: pp1-10

Janke, T. (2009). Writing Up Indigenous Research: Authorship, copyright, and Indigenous knowledge systems. NSW: Rosebery.

Kovach, M. (2009). Indigenous methodologies: characteristics, conversations and contexts. Toronto, University of Toronto Press.

Mahuika, R. (2015). Kaupapa Māori theory is critical and anticolonial. In L. Pihama, & K. Southey, Kaupapa rangahau: A reader. A collection of readings from the kaupapa Māori research workshops series. (pp. 35-45). Hamilton: Te Kotahi Research Institute.

Manning, R. (2012). Place-based education: Helping early childhood teachers give meaningful effect to the tangata whenuatanga competency of Tātaiako and the principles of Te Whāriki. In Gordon-Burns, D., Gunn, A., Purdue, K., and N. Surtees (Eds.). Te Aotūroa Tātaki. Inclusive Early Childhood Education: Perspectives on inclusion, social justice and equity from Aotearoa New Zealand. NZCER press. Pp57-73.

Ministry of Education. (2007). The New Zealand Curriculum. Learning Media Ltd. Wellington.

Ministry of Education. (2009). Ka Hikitia. Learning Media Ltd. Wellington.

Ministry of Education (2011) Tātaiako : cultural competencies for teachers of Māori learners. Wellington [N.Z.]

Ministry of Education. Retrieved from https://educationcouncil.org.nz/required/Tataiako.pdf

Ngaha, A. (2011). Te Reo, a language for Māori alone?: An investigation into the relationship between the Māori language and Māori identify (Doctoral thesis, 2011). Auckland University.

Penetito, W. (2009). Place-based Education: Catering for Curriculum, Culture and Community.New Zealand Annual Review of Education, 18, 5-29.

Penetito, W. (2010). What's Māori About Māori education? : the struggle for a meaningful context. Wellington, N.Z. : Victoria University Press, 2010.

Pihama, L. (2015). Kaupapa Māori theory: transforming theory in Aotearoa. In L. Pihama, & K. Southey, Kaupapa rangahau: A reader. A collection of readings from the kaupapa Māori research workshops series. (pp. 8-16). Hamilton: Te Kotahi Research Institute.

Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodology: Research and indigenous peoples. New York: Zed Books & Dunedin: Otago University Press

Smith, L. T. (2005). On tricky ground: researching the native in the age of uncertainty. In: Denzin N and Lincoln Y (eds) The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research. 3rd ed. London: Sage, 85–107.

Smith, L. T. (2015). Kaupapa Māori Research- Some Kaupapa Māori principles. In L. Pihama, & K. Southey, Kaupapa rangahau: A reader. A collection of readings from the kaupapa Māori research workshops series. (pp. 47-52). Hamilton: Te Kotahi Research Institute.

Wilson, S. (2008). Research is ceremony: indigenous research methods. Black Point, N.S., Fernwood Publishing.

Research within indigenous communities continues to be conducted in a way that is Eurocentric, acquisitional, and inequitable. Non-Māori working in a research role with tangata whenua are in a position where a location of oneself in regards to privilege and power is essential in considering if the research is first of value, and secondly ethical in a kaupapa Māori framework.

Undertaking research in an indigenous context requires oneself to ‘locate’ a position as a researcher and honestly evaluate the reasoning behind the research itself. Several factors need to be accounted for when undertaking research within an indigenous setting, with the most obvious being the ethical responsibility of a pākeha person using Māori first as a subject and then quantifying the data from the subject (indigenous, colonised peoples) into reliable ‘results’ to support a hypothesis. How this sterile, dehumanising, and objectifying process impacts versus benefits a community is debatable when placed within a contemporary social setting, and demands a robust and appropriate approach lest a continued academicised colonisation be perpetuated (Tuhiwai Smith, 2005). Co-opting indigenous knowledge for personal benefit (through theses, or postdoctural publishing opportunities) exemplifies the arrogance that highlights Eurocentric attitudes to non-white cultures’ intellectual, spiritual, and ancestral property as being free for the taking. Understanding who is benefitting from the imposition of research within a community, whose voice is projected, and which perspective the lens of the theory looks through are imperative to ensuring ethical and trustworthy work is being conducted.

Each researcher will have their own differentiated story that influences their interests, beliefs, and resilience to the challenges of researching in an indigenous context. Personal identification provides the foundation for the approach undertaken, the perspective of the research, and the methods used in collecting ‘data’. Indigenous research has historically been an exercise in cultural and academic Eurocentrism that favours a data-centric approach and dehumanisation of indigenous peoples through systematic analysis (Sullivan, 1994). A contrast of historical knowledge-acquisition of Eurocentrised researchers and a research method(s) that fits within an indigenous paradigm are perspective and voice (Tuhiwai Smith, 2005). My voice when researching within an indigenous community or investigating indigenous concepts should be heard only when making inquiries, or clarifying a response – my voice’s job when conducting research is to instigate others’ dialogue and collate the information gifted to me into an appropriately coherent structure, nothing more. The perspective in which the research results are framed need to come from the community participating in the research. A pākeha-centric approach and interpretation of data does little if anything to contribute to a strengths based positive direction of indigenous research, nor does it aid in the development of researcher/tangata whenua relationships (Bishop, 2005).

As tauiwi undertaking research involving Māori there will always be the risk of subjectivity within my study. We are not yet in a decolonised society, and my position and role within a context of colonialism and Eurocentricity means that I am still at the top of the racial food chain. The gradient and saturation of accountability and integrity is exceedingly diluted in some parts of the country. A lack of subjectivity should be at the forefront of any researchers agenda, and by implementing this effort comes an awareness of how the extensive misconceptions and myths in Aotearoa regarding Māori are widespread. Russell Bishop notes this in his opening statement in his chapter regarding kaupapa Māori and neocolonialist domination in research (2005). The ease in which these misconceptions move within social discourse shows the impact Eurocentric research can have on furthering racial disparities and constricting positive equitable change. In order to become a fully objective pākeha researcher of Māori concepts, one must make great efforts to become accustomed and familiar with kaupapa Māori, including tikanga, te reo, mana motuhake, and tino rangatiratanga. Especially important to research relations with tangata whenua relate to tino rangatiratanga, whereby one example of the disparities in the translations of the English and Māori versions of Te Tiriti where governence and sovereignty remain untranslated and misleading (Matson, 1991). As such, the self-determination of research participants is essential to building long lasting, respectful, and productive relationships with Māori (Bishop, 2005). Tuhiwai Smith futhers this by noting how historical anthropological research furthers colonisation and ‘actively halts self-determination’ (2005).

Keith Sullivan identified several problematic initiatives created by pākeha with no consultation or involvement with Māori, acting instead on their behalf with little to no understanding or acknowledgement of tikanga or holistically indigenous practice (1994). Sullivan also identified the lack of narrative metaphor as tauiwi/pākeha, meaning that a singular dimension is present in research conducted by pākeha, instead of the multidimensional approach of Māori and other indigenous cultures. The creation of ethical space, of equitable research, is an intrinsic necessity when working with Māori in a research setting. Castellano called this an ‘intercultural knowledge exchange’ (2008). Included in this is a rejection of institutionalised Eurocentricity as the valid norm. As mentioned earlier, academically mandated ethics come from a colonialist perspective with a breadth of history regarding the unethical attainment and acquisition of indigenous knowledge (Bishop, 2005).

Locating yourself as a researcher is imperative to ensuring the conglomeration of Māori knowledge is not a subliminal motivating factor behind research (Sullivan, 1994). Representation that is representative of indigenous cultures is essential, and possible through firstly identifying your personal position in terms of prior experience, education, and worldviews. I am an extensively educated, white, gay single mother. These factors are intrinsically linked to how I interpret qualitative data, the methods I will be immediately drawn to when designing a research paradigm, and effects the interaction between members of the community and myself. The way I live my life may lead some to see me as tautangata, as a strange person (also a stranger), and could present an opportunity for conflict when views or beliefs contradict. Essentially, balancing the interests of my individual research with the needs and interests of the community will be the end goal to a successful and mutually beneficial research process. A discussion with the community of what is being researched, what this will look like, what purpose it will serve, who has ultimate responsibility, and what acknowledgement will be given for the sharing of knowledge (Tuhiwai Smith, 2005, 2012).

Hugens (2016) notes the following points to consider in the context of indigenous research ethics:

· How to balance group interests and individual interests to promote justice and inclusiveness

· How to respond to the needs of vulnerable groups at risk within Indigenous communities

· How to provide access to data for local benefit and also protect the privacy of members of small communities with dense networks of relationship

· How to enhance the skills and infrastructure in Indigenous communities so that they can engage in equitable research partnerships

· How to respect both the expectations of community accountability and the value of freedom of inquiry

· How to overcome reluctance among academic researchers and students to engage with Indigenous knowledge and Indigenous-led research`.

These questions pose an extremely useful framework to utilise when creating a research proposal and strategy, as well as justifying the usefulness of the research itself. Here indigenous based ideology for ‘White Knight Syndrome’, i.e. wanting to save the world, ensures that the acqusition of indigenous knowledge is not being justified for the ‘good of mankind’, but as a mutually beneficial undertaking between two invested parties (Tuhiwai Smith, 2012). Tuhiwai Smith also identifies the perils of research instigating policy (2012). The dangers of non-indigenous based research birthing changes in policy is that it is often tone deaf and lacks the breadth and understanding of an indigenous perspective. Here is a direct example of the need to decolonise research through a location first of self, then of self within context of the research and the participants required.

Any research involving indigenous concepts, peoples, or lands, needs to be part of a decolonising process that acknowledges and makes space for equity and tangata whenua-centric ethical responsibilities. The issue, however, with ethical guidelines is that they are often set by an academic institute, in itself an elitist colonising force. How then, as tauiwi in a tertiary setting, is equitable, ethical, meaningful and worthwhile research able to be undertaken in an indigenous setting? The obstacle is replicating data on lived reality and experience of indigenous peoples when you are part of the colonising force still present. Existence as pākeha in Aotearoa means to be part of the on going Eurocentric zeitgeist, and unless you are living and breathing the dismantling of this hierarchy and decolonisation of New Zealand then your presence in research will never be able to understand, replicate, or otherwise justify an observed perspective of indigenous Māori concepts.

References:

Bishop, R. (2005). “Freeing ourselves from neocolonial domination in research: a kaupapa Māori approach to creating knowledge”. In Denzin, N, & Lincoln, Y. The SAGE handbook of qualitative research. 3rd ed. Thousand Oaks, SAGE Publications, p 109 – 138.

Castellano, M.B. (2008). “Indigenous research”. In The Sage encyclopedia of qualitative research methods. Thousand Oaks, SAGE Publications.

Hugens, I. (2016). Social movements, resistance, and social change in Aotearoa New Zealand. Kōtuitui: New Zealand Journal of Social Sciences Online, 11(2).

Matson, J., N. (1991). The Language, the Law and the Treaty of Waitangi. The Journal of The Polynesian Society, (4), 343.

Sullivan, K. (1994). Bicultural Education in Aotearoa/New Zealand: Establishing a Tauiwi Side to the Partnership. New Zealand Annual Review of Education, (3), 191 – 222.

Tuhiwai Smith, L. (2005). “On tricky ground: researching the Native in an age of uncertainty”. In Denzin, N, & Lincoln, Y. The SAGE handbook of qualitative research. 3rd ed. Thousand Oaks, SAGE Publications, p 85 -107.

Tuhiwai Smith, L. (2012). Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. Zed Books: London.