(Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 5.6)
Recently I listened to the Radio New Zealand interview with Te Taka Keegan and something he mentioned opened an avenue of new thinking for me.
“When you become fluent, you can see things through a different lens.”
In 2007, I was privileged to be a CORE eFellow. The quote by Wittgenstein in the title of this post informed my eFellow research, which looked at podcasting as a tool to help students develop their oral language capability. My findings revealed that some students needed time to develop and become confident in their use of oral language within a safe space. In this way, they can develop the necessary skills before being expected to use those skills combined with standing in front of an audience. With podcasting, students could record and listen to themselves, and practise, and improve. They could then tentatively put this recording out to the world for others to engage with through a podcast, but still be one step removed from the oral presentation. Emboldened by the positive feedback of their peers, they could take the next step of using those oral-language skills within a real-time presentation to the class or school.
The key learning was that we needed to enable those who couldn’t speak in front of people to continue to develop the necessary skills in a different environment. And, in this way, I felt that I had supported these students to extend the limits of their world.
Now, the same quote has come to mean something more to me as the limits of my world expand.
There is a debate in New Zealand at the moment about the inclusion of te reo Māori as a compulsory subject in schools. Te reo Māori was given official language status in New Zealand in 1987, and te Tiriti o Waitangi is a founding document of this country. New Zealand is a bicultural society — so, let’s look at Keegan and Wittgenstein again:
“When you become fluent, you can see things through a different lens.”
“The limits of my language mean the limits of my world”
If we are truly to live the vision of being a bicultural society, shouldn’t we all expand our world and see this country through the lenses available to us? Shouldn’t we truly be able to ‘talk’ to each other and bridge the barrier that is in place through these limits? Don’t our children deserve to be able to see the world through as many lenses as possible? Especially if one crucial lens was taken away from some of our children through draconian policies that banned the use of their language in the first place.
I am in the privileged position of having the choice to be part of a bicultural society. I can make the choice to see through another lens. Many of my friends do not have that choice — as someone once revealed to me:
“When my children and I open our door in the morning to head out to school, we don’t have a choice to be bicultural. We have to step out into the dominant culture and look for signs of our own culture within that world.”
I am taking the time to learn and practise my reo in a safe space, which is my very supportive workplace. Through its support and encouragement, I am emboldened to begin to expand my language as I step out into different parts of my world. Our schools can be that safe place for our children to learn and practise.
Have you found your safe place yet?
One question that seems to resurface regularly is ‘Do you need to be creative to create something?’ Again, we need to return to the simple definitions of the two terms and highlight their differences. One is clearly a verb (to create) while the other is an adverb (creatively) but is this enough? Sure, you can create something with relative ease. It is a process. Something that can be tracked and talked through. A fine example of creating is the simple act of following a recipe. If followed correctly, the outcome has been predetermined and will be successful. However, if we look at the very heart of what it means to be creative, the use of imagination and original ideas, then I would argue that following a recipe is not. Should you choose to deviate from the recipe and experiment with different textures, flavours, and spices, then you should expect a more unplanned outcome.
The second question puzzles me. A well-known children’s author, Maggie Tokuda-Hall, wrote in her book, ‘Also an Octopus’, that a good story ‘…starts with a little bit of nothing...’ and beautifully followed up with, ‘and everyone has a little bit of nothing.’ My point is simply that to be creative in its purest form, we often start from nothing. When not starting from nothing and building on the ideas of others, much of the challenge around ‘starting with a little bit of nothing’ has already been tackled. So, to answer the question in a roundabout sort of way, I truly believe that every child has a little bit of nothing and that every child has a wonderful imagination. It’s just a question of finding the right catalyst to ignite the fire — and the right tool to enable the flow.
Nā Whare Isaac-Sharland
I tērā tau, 2017, i riro i a au te karahipi iWhara a Tākuta Vince Ham, nā Tātai Aho Rau. Nōku te whakamānawa, nōku te whiwhi, nōku te hōnore. Ko te iWhara a Tākuta Vince Ham, he karahipi rangahau hei whakapakari i ngā pūkenga o te pouako. Me aro te kaitono ki tētahi kaupapa whakahirahira o te ao whakaako, o te ao mātauranga anō hoki. Mā te kaikarahipi te kaupapa rangahau e kōwhiri, māna hoki e whai. Mā Tātai Aho Rau ngā pukenga o te kaikarahipi e tautoko, e hāpai i te roanga o te tau, kia tutuki ōna hiahia, kia eke tana rangahau. Ka mihi ki a Tātai Aho Rau e whakawhanake ana i ērā pūkenga rangahau ōku.
E 23 ngā tau māua ko taku tane e whāia ana ko te reo me ōna tikanga te reo matua o te whānau, hei whakarauora hoki i te mātauranga Māori ki ō māua whānau. Kua roa tā māua whawhai i ngā whakaaro auraki. Heoi, i tētahi o ngā wāhanga o taku rangahau iWhara, i warewaretia katoatia aua akoranga, nā te mea i taku tuhinga e mea ana, “he iti noa iho ngā kōrero rangahau mō te kapa haka i tēnei ao hurihuri”. Tērā pea ka pānuihia tēnei o aku tuhinga e ōku karangamaha o te motu, ā ka puku ngā rae. Ka rongo au i ā rātou kupu e whakatika mai ana, me aro kē au ki ngā mātauranga Māori. Ka tika hoki tēnā kōrero, kei te ao Māori kē ngā tini kōrero hei taunaki i ngā hua o te kapa haka.