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Aroha: breathing life into Tātaiako and Tapasā

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Image copyright CORE Education, all rights reserved.
Image copyright CORE Education, all rights reserved.

Setting the scene

I have a passion for re-imagining what secondary schooling and especially the middle years (Years 7-10) could look like. Starting out in my teaching career, my personal educational philosophy was simple: make this time memorable for students. But what seemed like a simple task was in reality an uphill battle.

In 2009 I started teaching at St Thomas of Canterbury College where the focus was on social justice and equity in education. In 2016 I was able to lead the transition of our junior school from a traditional delivery to a more integrated model in order to support future-focused learning and teaching (Bolstad and Gilbert, 2012). Coinciding with this, our school was granted a Teacher-Led Innovation Fund (TLIF) focused on deconstructing existing systems, structures and routines to create a 21st century curriculum with a specific focus on engagement and student agency.

Throughout the two years of the TLIF project, our evidence showed that we had created positive shifts in the engagement of our students, and we were also able to uncover data that we had not seen previously. For example, even though we had begun to integrate learning areas, for example with STEM, and begun to make projects more engaging by using student voice to inform our planning, our Year 9 Pasifika and Māori learners still showed reluctance to engage.

This perplexed me and forced me to reflect on what we were doing. What assumptions were we making? I wrote myself some key questions:

  • Was the learning in a context that Māori and Pasifika students could relate to?
  • Could involvement of the community, specifically iwi, help engage learners?
  • Were the conversations, or lack of conversations, at home having an impact on student engagement?

The Dr Vince Ham eFellowship 2020 offered by CORE Education was an opportunity to explore these questions in more depth, and so I began a new research journey.

My research

In applying for the Dr Vince Ham Fellowship I looked to the key concepts of Tātaiako (Teaching Council of Aotearoa New Zealand, 2011) to shape my research. These concepts specifically included:

  • Wānanga: participating with learners and communities in robust dialogue for the benefit of Māori learners’ achievement.
  • Whanaungatanga: actively engaging in respectful working relationships with Māori learners, parents and whānau, hapū, iwi and the Māori community.
  • Tangata whenuatanga: affirming Māori learners as Māori. Providing contexts for learning where the language, identity and culture of Māori learners and their whānau is affirmed.

When it came to considering my research design, I posed the following question: “How could students share their learning in STEM with parents in an authentic context?’’ But then the spanner in the works hit: Covid-19! My initial idea of having learning out in the community was derailed and for a while my project floundered until, through conversations with CORE’s research mentors, I soon realised that my question actually suggested the answer: I was focusing on the outcome without going to the source – the parents.

Methodology

Through the research design process, I began to focus on exploring new methods of gathering student voice. As a college we gather student data each term to help us reflect on our practice, but often through a digital form. This method has been successful but had also in some ways reinforced the questions I was asking myself. During the TLIF, our lead researcher posed the provocation: “It’s the voices you don’t hear that matter!” I realised it was often the Māori and Pasifika learners whose voices were needed the most but were often the quietest. How then might educators gather the voice of the voiceless? On reflection, it became clear that digital feedback was not culturally responsive.

With this idea in the back of my mind, it was at our first eFellows hui that the idea of Story Hui was suggested. Liz Stevenson, herself a former eFellow, created Story Hui (Stevenson, 2015) as a story-telling process to capture the voice of students around their capabilities, engagement and well being. Straight away I could see the missing link: I could see the benefits of Story Hui and how it could make learning and achievement visible for the Māori and Pasifika learners at our college.

Talanoa, hui and oral language are so deeply embedded in Polynesian culture it made sense that we gather voice in this way, rather than the written, Eurocentric ways of digital online forms. Stories speak to us at a deeper level; they value and honour diverse ways of knowing, being and learning. Stories put a face to the numbers and help to show what’s working, what’s not and why. It simply aligns better with cultural capabilities and in my view moves documents such as Tātaiako and Tapasā (Ministry of Education, 2018) from being a ‘tick box exercise’ to living, breathing documents. Therefore I wondered about using Story Hui as a methodology to test my idea about what students felt about school and the conversations they have at home with parents, if indeed these conversations happen.

Findings

My initial wonderings had centred around the question of conversations about education at home. Did they happen? The biggest takeaway from my research blew my assumptions. Participants talked about learning almost daily! Moving into the Story Hui I wanted to unpack exactly what students and whānau talked about and their views on education, as my hunch was that this was not aligned.

Covid-19 and the ensuing lockdown had brought learning into the home and for many whānau challenged their world views about education without the barrier of school. Key findings from my research included the following:

Who talks?

The data suggested that families talked far more than I had imagined, in most cases daily. For both parties it was seen as important to discuss learning, and particularly for students to let parents see that they are doing well. These discussions were open and honest and echoed the importance of kōrero and its relationship in improving learning outcomes.

Difference in worldviews

One parent said, “Lockdown was an eye opener on how learning happened, especially group work and use of devices.” Parents, while acknowledging much of the content they learned in school was pointless and the soft skills they use in day-to-day life were more important, often focused only on literacy and numeracy. Parents commented that during lockdown they were surprised with how much collaboration took place, while students saw this as being what they valued most about learning.

Proud to be Māori!

Whānau discussed the importance of culture being represented in learning. Students at our college report that they feel proud to be Māori, and believe culture is represented in their learning. However whānau reported that their own school experiences clearly impacted on their views. Participants spoke of negative experiences and how this had an impact on them as they tried to fit into a Pākehā | Palangi system. For whānau they wanted to ensure the experience of school was mana-enhancing for their tamariki.

Recommendations

My assumption is that as educators we often see cultural competencies and documents such as Tātaiako and Tapasā as merely a paper exercise to comply with Ministry requirements rather than having a living, organic system in place to enhance the voice and learning of our Māori and Pasifika ākonga.
Whanaungatanga and tangata whenuatanga cannot be achieved on paper. Schools need to have systems in place to engage with whānau outside of traditional meetings or surveys. Story Hui or other forms of Talanoa provide this.

My experience of engaging with new systems of gathering voice was that whanaungatanga and tangata whenuatanga were embodied, and enhanced the mana of both students and whānau. Schools need to be critical of whose voice they are gathering and how they are collecting it to ensure that voices are genuinely heard in the planning and implementation of learning.

Find out more about the Dr Vince Ham eFellowship

Further reading

References

Bolstad, R., Gilbert, J., & McDowall, S. (2012). Supporting future-oriented learning & teaching. Ministry of Education.
Ministry of Education. (2018). Tapasā. Ministry of Education.
Stevenson, L. (2015). STORY HUI TRUST. STORY HUI TRUST. Retrieved 26 March 2021, from https://www.storyhui.org/.
Teaching Council of Aotearoa New Zealand. (2011). Tātaiako. Ministry of Education.

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Three high school students use laptops for online gaming

An unexpected journey through eSports

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Three high school students use laptops for online gaming
Image courtesy of Duncan Trickey

“However, in the end, the real importance of good computer and video games is that they allow people to re-create themselves in new worlds and achieve recreation and deep learning at one and the same time” (Gee, 2003, p.3)

My name is Duncan Trickey and I am the teacher in charge of sports at Otago Girls’ High School (OGHS). For some time I had been wondering, “Why was it that the ākonga at OGHS did not play eSports?” (eSports is a form of sports competition that uses video games). This question made me curious. Why did this matter to me? Why did I think it mattered to the school? This became my research focus as a Dr Vince Ham eFellow in 2020.

Why was it that ākonga were not playing eSports?

I conducted a survey of OGHS ākonga in 2019, before the eFellowship began, and it showed that students were not competing in eSports though some of them thought they would like to. In response to this, I arranged to run a duty time in the innovation hub called the eSports and Gaming Club. We had two new gaming computers purchased through community funding which meant ākonga were not reliant on their own devices. During the lunch times students could play any games they wanted. We had between five and ten ākonga attend our weekly meets which showed that there was definitely an interest in playing eSports.

At first, Brawhala and Minecraft were the most popular free games. We then found League of Legends. This game requires a team of five players to play but forming a consistent team was a challenge. Ākonga in the eSports club were from different year groups and the team members changed depending on their afternoon timetables. Though friend groups came in, they often had different games they wanted to play. In addition, though we had just started this group all too soon we had to leave the school walls for our home bubbles.

Te pou herenga – navigating education through tricky times

Through our journey this year at OGHS, a colleague used the metaphor ‘te pou herenga’, the hitching or mooring post for our waka. Through the turbulent times of lockdown, we relied on our leadership to hold together the diaspora that school had become in 2020. Every educator had a part to play as we led our respective students, whānau and community through tricky times.

My research project on eSports and education became something I could relish. While all other sports paused during lockdown, my athletes were in the position where they were the only sport still going. Our communication through discord meant everyone could schedule games and though the digital divide meant I lost a number of ākonga, our meets were well-attended. For a number of students it was the first time they had been in a game chat and they seemed genuinely surprised to have a teacher talking through discord.

The eSports team was very new and it was unclear to me what we actually were. I did not teach any of the students, and the games we were playing were also completely new to me. I quickly realised that lunchtime sessions were not perfect. It was difficult to get the students into the game and complete the game within 45 minutes. This is when we initially started to do evening games, after dinner. This was an exciting move and was a foreshadowing of how the group would meet in the future. Within this distance setting it gave the group added excitement about finally meeting as a team and presented me with a hidden learning.

The hidden learning

The hidden learning was why our eSports team needed to be a recognised part of our school community and what the ākonga would gain through it. As with traditional sports, the social learning within eSports is the same. Like preparing for a rugby game, you similarly need to be prepared for an eSports match; you need to understand your role within the side; what tactics to use; how to complement each other; and how to communicate clearly during high stakes (digital life and death). Furthermore, basics like remembering your power cord and log in; organising your calendar; communicating with home and an endless number of other skills are needed that relate to being part of a team who can rely on each other.

There has been a huge amount of learning around who the ākonga were who joined the group. It was completely voluntary and attracted a diverse group of students and transcended conventional boundaries of year groups; it also attracted students from outside our school community. The ākonga had to adapt to who was in the team, negotiate what roles each student would take, and what character they were able to play. We also initially had to find common ground on what games we wanted to play and who we were to play against. Though my focus was gender equity it was quickly apparent that the ākonga at Otago Girls’ High School wanted to play, and beat the boys.

We aren’t going anywhere

Setting up our first competitive game against Otago Boys’ High school was an exciting step for the group. The tension and excitement through the week was tangible as the match approached. The game itself was hugely one-sided and the team coming in had thousands of hours experience on the OGHS students, being mostly Year 13 students. This did not put off the squad though we continued to meet and train and arrange games. In Dunedin we were breaking new ground as schools were often initially wary about eSports. The news of our eSports team quickly flowed through to others who were interested in playing against our team, even when their schools didn’t necessarily have a recognised school team.

Face-to-face games with other schools break down the often social silo associated with gaming: the image of teenagers isolated and playing games in their darkened bedrooms. Basic practices around sport like saying ‘good luck’ and talking to the captain before going into a game is just as important in developing the social skills within the team. The level of excitement at a win or simply just knowing the team has performed really well is akin to the emotions experienced by any team sport I have known, and as a manager and coach in other sporting codes, the ‘buzz’ is similar.

esports-in-your-school

The next step – this project will not let me stop!

The next steps are to develop a sustainable Dunedin league and develop a support network for these students. If we ensure we value them as much as other athletes, we will reap benefits. Already I have offers to help coach our team from some of the students from the boys’ school. When looking at how we continue as a group I think this is a really interesting area going forward. Will these sports teams look like traditional teams, or will they take more of a cultural model with students from other schools joining teams where they feel comfortable and being managed that way? The possibility could be of a sporting hub model where students interested meet and form teams before looking to compete in regional or national competitions. Either way it is clear to me that the students are not only enjoying it but learning and gaining important skills. There is an exciting future ahead of us.

Find out more about the Dr Vince Ham eFellowship and read Duncan’s research report

References

Gee, J. P. (2003). What Video Games have to Teach us about Learning and Literacy. (New York: Palgrave/Macmillan)

Ngā kupu

  • Pou herenga, “(noun) hitching post, mooring post, rallying point.” Retrieved from Māori Dictionary
  • discord, a chat room where gamers often meet
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Three students laugh whilst making hot chocolate drinks

Honouring the gift of student voice

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A personal reflection on my journey as a Dr Vince Ham eFellow, by Karen Nicholls

Three students laugh whilst making hot chocolate drinks
Image courtesy of Karen Nicholls

This blog post is about my journey as a Dr Vince Ham eFellow and how the research process challenged my assumptions and resulted in a significant conceptual shift in the way I understood ‘agency’.

In 2020 I embarked on a collaborative action research project aimed at exploring student identity through multimedia texts. I selected a group of 14 students between 11 and 13 years old. To find out what they thought, I set up focus group hui during which, I hoped, we would discuss their identity as a learner and student in the school, and that the data from these hui would result in examples of texts I would then code.

I went into the process with a strong belief that students had something to say, and that they were strong in their identities, and that what they needed was a space to be heard and celebrated for who they are. I had a plan for how the research process would unfold and I had the first few sessions planned and resourced. That’s what good teachers do, right?

The crunch point

The crunch came early on when two students shared with the group that they were unsure what reflected their identities as they were still working out who they were and what they were like. What I soon realised was that I had to truly sit back and listen to what was being said in our conversations. I had to really hear and respond to the stories of the students.

At this point I had a choice:

A. Continue with my plan and steer the conversations towards the end I had in mind?
or
B. Recognise that my belief had been challenged and respond accordingly?

From this point onwards, I had to reframe my thinking, slow down and focus on listening to learn, rather than controlling the student voice for my own ends. My focus changed to one of considering the importance of honouring the stories of my students: the stories they were sharing about their own developing identities.

As a researcher, this was exciting. However as a teacher, I had to quiet that voice in my head that was outcomes-focused: What if we just talked about identity and didn’t “achieve” anything? What if student voice was confronting? What if it led me to places of discomfort and challenge?

I chose to centre my thoughts on my students. I considered what it meant to honour their voices, their vulnerabilities, their willingness to allow each other, and me into their worlds. What could this look like?

Do to this, I referred back to the statement of intent I had written when embarking on the research project:

I am passionate about students being represented strongly and securely in their identities in our school environment. A strong and secure identity is a key aspect of student empowerment and achievement. All our students deserve to be seen, heard and celebrated in our place.

While I was still interested in exploring and creating expressions of identity through multimedia artifacts, I wondered whether making space for authentic conversations – truly hearing and responding to student voices – was where the representation and celebration of each student needed to sit.

So, I took the plunge. I put aside my carefully timed and structured scope and sequence plan, and made space for the narrative to flow. This was my first action to honour their voices.The pressure of expectations to DO eased. Students were able to BE. I was able to hear. Together we were able to explore what they wanted and needed to be seen and heard.

So, how did they want to be seen, heard and connected in our space?

Student voice

My initial assumption was that through the multimedia texts used in our classrooms, we could better represent our students’ identities and provide ways for them to connect with themselves and one another. What I learned was that they wanted to be heard. They wanted to see evidence that their voices, their stories, their lives were important and worthy of teacher time and conversation. In short, they wanted relationships, connections, and response.

The group kept coming back to their shared reality: their identities were developing, changing, growing as they were. They wanted to have a safe place to grapple with all that was going on in their lives as they began the shift from child to young adult. Over and over again I heard how much they valued our weekly research group hui as a safe place where they could be themselves, even if they didn’t know what that meant all of the time. It became a space where they felt that they could speak and be heard. For many, this was not their usual experience of school where in the past when they had given their stories, been vulnerable, offered their voice as a taonga and they had been ignored.

There is power in student voice, and it isn’t a voice any teacher can give. We don’t give voices. We make space for them in our curricula and classrooms, or we don’t. Especially in times like these when our nation is burning, we should listen to the young people. We should center their voices through choice of their tasks, choice of what they want to study, and overall handing them some leadership opportunities. How else will they practice taking over the world (German, 2020, para.14).

In the context of our research, I asked each student to answer the question: What do you want teachers to know?

Their responses were so clear, simple and yet so often ignored in our busy days of timetables, and deadlines, of assessment tasks. Their responses also require kaiako to sit back and truly embrace ako: to learn alongside, to learn from our students, to set aside the need for control and truly engage with our ākonga with their voices at the centre.

So, what did my ākonga researchers want teachers to know? These are their words:

  • [Teachers need to] actually act on the information that the students give them.
  • We all have strong ideas and opinions. Be flexible, listen and have open ears.
  • If we do a Google form / survey, let us know what happens to our answers.
  • [Teachers need to] give us the time to speak. Let kids have time to talk to each other and you.
  • Leave us to discuss without you. Be aware that we feel pressure to say what YOU want, not what WE want.

Wero

This seems simple, however how often are we deliberate about including opportunities to connect at this deeper level, building a culture of trust and openness, and protecting space and opportunities to truly listen and respond to student voice with respect for the gift they have given us?

I have the privilege each day of going to work and learning alongside brilliant and inspiring young people and my constant challenge is to ask: What choices will I make today to honour the taonga that is student voice?

Find out more about the Dr Vince Ham eFellowship and read Karen’s research report

 

References

German, L. (2020, August 11). Using Social Justice to Promote Student Voice in Middle School (Blog Post). Retrieved from: https://www.edutopia.org/article/using-social-justice-promote-student-voice

Further reading

Brown, B., 20 of her most inspiring leadership quotes
Goodman, S., Developing Voices: Students Are Your Allies
McClaskey, K., Voice – Make Learning Personal

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hi-ako-blog

Understanding HīAko

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From a young age, Māui-tikitiki-a-Taranga was a nanakia visionary, inquisitive and he accomplished a number of great feats helping others to live better lives. HīAko aims to enable Māori learners to discover their potential, ‘te pitomata’ and promote kaupapa Māori ways of engaging with self, others, and knowledge.

The HīAko challenge itself is fast paced, high energy and fun and uses kaupapa Māori approaches to find solutions to real life, localised problems that matter to ākonga and their whānau as speakers of te reo Māori. HīAko provides ākonga with the opportunity like Māui, to think, explore and find solutions to real life issues in order to enrich the lives of others. Māui was far from perfect and he was a great disruptor, which is what is needed also in this space.

HīAko

HīAko is founded within pūrākau, demonstrating a unique approach to learning based on four Māori medium learning approaches:

  • Kia hīanga te ako – discover as you play, play to learn
  • Kia tamaiti te tū, kia Māori te tū – being a child whilst standing in your Māoriness
  • Mā te tamaiti tōna ao e hanga – the child will create his or her own world
  • Ko te tamaiti ko tōna whānau, ko te whānau ko tōna tamaiti – each child brings with them whānau, whakapapa, stories and knowledge that are unique.

What is HīAko?

  • HīAko is a learning programme which believes that whilst playing, huge learning is taking place.
  • HīAko encompasses learning reciprocity, learning enjoyment, learning discovery, learning creativity, and learning collaboration.
  • HīAko endeavours to awaken the potential within, so that new ideas and innovations may occur.
  • HīAko is Māori-centric, fun, and fast paced.
  • HīAko includes time for ākonga to collaborate together in teams to inquire, uncover problems that matter to them, which they would like to try and solve.
  • HīAko encourages teams to research and query solutions to their problems and link with whānau, kura, hapū and the wider hāpori to assist ākonga with their solutions.
  • HīAko is designed so ākonga get to play, tutu, learn, create and harness transformational change within a total immersion te reo Māori environment.
HīAko – powered by CORE Education – Tātai Aho Rau is a kaupapa Māori driven event for tau 6 – 8 ākonga from Māori medium and reo rua kura. Three HīAko events will be held during 2021. More information about the upcoming HīAko events and how to enrol your ākonga coming soon. Visit the website for more!

 

We would like to acknowledge Whare and Hohepa Isaac-Sharland, past facilitators of CORE who designed and delivered the HīAko programme and this content.

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Image by CORE Education. All rights reserved.

Innovation is in our DNA: engaging Māori students in design thinking

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Te Mako Orzecki reflects on this podcast from Janelle Riki-Waaka

 

In this podcast, Janelle Riki-Waaka explains how employing the good old number 8 wire mentality is at the heart of innovation using design thinking frameworks. She draws on the experiences of Māori and Pasifika navigators who traversed the Pacific and settled throughout Te Moananui a Kiwa (the Pacific Ocean). Our ancestors used not only technologies of the time to survive but also thrive. Janelle argues that these technologies and innovations still exist within our tamariki and mokopuna of today.

Janelle draws on that old knowledge and technology to make comparison with today’s Hangarau Matihiko and Digital Technologies curriculum content. As she puts it, “The end goal is for Māori learners to not only become consumers of technology, but also creators of technology.” There is a desire for Māori ākonga to be innovative in seeking solutions to any given problems by developing a framework that sits within their cultural paradigm and more.

Image by CORE Education. All rights reserved.
Image by CORE Education. All rights reserved.

A kaiako’s job as a facilitator of learning is to provide Māori ākonga with the opportunities to pursue these types of vocations and to set themselves up in their future career pathways.
Diversification is key in making this a success. This means more wāhine, more Māori, and more people of Pacific descent working in these spaces. It is imperative that various cultural lenses can provide unique perspectives. One way of developing locally-grounded, future-focused problem solvers is through design thinking.

Design thinking is a process that requires people to find problems or challenges that affect people and places and come up with solutions. These often derive from the needs of people and/or environment. It enables a collaborative way of working.

In considering what design thinking looks like from a Te Ao Māori perspective in our CORE Education mahi, we drew on Cliff Whiting and the design process he used in his art making. Similar to Cliff we used the Māori creation story as a narrative to understand and guide our initial design thinking process. This Māori view on design thinking was further developed for Kia Takatū a-Matihiko as Te Tukunga Hoahoa Whakaaro. As a snapshot, our iterative process consisted of design, testing, feedback, reframing ideas, and reflection. Our wish is to share this process with all kaiako throughout Aotearoa who want to use it with their tamariki, knowing that it has come from an authentic, bicultural perspective that is based and grounded in Te Ao Māori and mātauranga Māori.

In recent years there has been a notable rise in the number of Māori role models in tech and innovation industries who are upheld as innovative thinkers and leaders. People like Lee Timutimu (Ko Māui Hangarau), Kendall Flutey (Ngāi Tahu) who developed an online banker tool for primary and intermediate learners to learn money skills. Nikora Ngaropo for his outstanding work with animations and Hori Te Ariki Mataki (Ariki Creative) and the boys from Māui Studio who are doing the mahi in Ōtautahi. These innovators are leading the charge for our budding future Māori digital creators and leaders.

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