Matariki constellation

Matariki – our past, our future

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Ahhhh Matariki, here you are again. This year, I think, your presence will be different. This time more people know your name. This time they will look for you. This time, the ancient being you are, will be honoured. Mānawatia a Matariki. 

I paused just the other night and looked at the sky cloaked in all its glory. Each star, millions of miles away, ever constant, ever seeing, ever present. My momentary reflection made me think about just how old the stars are. They have led generations, they have guided waka around the world, they have given signs and have provided comfort and wise counsel. 

They remain the same, yet we have changed. Our world is ever changing – he ao hurihuri tēnei ao. 

The word ‘mātai’ is synonymous with star gazing. It is also a word that we use for ‘examine’. In the development of the new Aotearoa New Zealand and Te Takanga o te Wā histories curricula, mātai is used in the guiding whakataukī Mātai whakamuri, kia anga whakamua – look to the past to move forward. Matariki provides the impetus for us to do just that, reflect on what has gone before and to prepare for the future. So what then is our past, and what will be our future? 

With every generation comes change. We have evolved as a society, and continue to evolve as a society. That is how nature works. And thank goodness for that. Those of us who have glimpsed into the window of our past know we have seen dark times. We still see, feel and hear the impact of those times, that is, if we choose to do so. For those that are yet to learn the history of this land, the time has arrived. 

Prior to the signing of te Tiriti o Waitangi, te reo Māori was the predominant language of the land. Māori culture, society and identity were intact and māori (normal). In the span of the next one hundred and fifty plus years we experienced the most horrific legislation, for example the 1879 Māori Prisoners Act (Māori imprisoned without trial for an indefinite period of time), the 1863 Suppression of Rebellion Act (any Māori deemed to be in rebellion with the Crown were punished with land confiscation), the 1863 New Zealand Settlements Act (allowed the Government to confiscate land as punishment for those who fought against the crown), the Pepper Potting policy in the 1960s where whānau Māori were housed in non-Māori areas to hasten the assimilation process, and the list goes on and on. Be it racist policy, the perpetuation of racist discourse, the racist slander we might even experience in our own families, down to the ‘everything is so Māori nowdays’,  tells a story of where we have been, and shows us where we need to get to in order to ensure the world looks different for our future generations. 

And the world is looking different. Hope is being restored each time a Māori word is pronounced correctly. It is restored every time ‘mainstream’ media uses te reo Māori in our TV shows. When we go to the supermarket and see bilingual signage, when people call out racist behaviour, when people invest time in learning the language, when people seek to change – to do better and to be better. When mātauranga Māori is naturalised back into ‘mainstream’ society, as we see with the Matariki holiday, things are changing. 

This year marks the first time we will celebrate an indigenous public holiday. To me, it is a very public way to honour mātauranga Māori. If people didn’t know what or who Matariki was, they will now. It is a deliberate act of re-indigenisation, challenging the face of eurocentricity and New Zealand culture. This, among other forms of cultural reclamation and revitalisation, are becoming more and more normal. Iwi are investing significant heart, time and resource into the identity of their uri – identity that has been, like land, dispossessed for generations, for many of us. We are pursuing cultural responsiveness. We see so much grace and willingness to work in partnership that there is a sense of te Tiriti o Waitangi slowly gaining mana and finding a home in society, beyond rhetoric and into spaces of authentic implementation. Although the term is beginning to sound slightly cliche, Aotearoa is getting ‘woke’. 

It is good to reflect on how far we have come. As we prepare to consider what our contribution to the narrative of our land will be, our collective story will eventually become history, what deliberate acts might we do to ensure mātauranga Māori is returned equitably to the winds, ngā hau e whā, of Aotearoa? Hiwa-i-te-rangi, the ‘wishing star’ of the Matariki cluster, will soon be visible to the eye. What might we lay before her, what are our hopes and dreams for our land? The responsibility for the future sits on our shoulders and in our hearts. He aha tāu? What part will you play?

 

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Equity, te reo, and doing the right thing

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In her follow-up blog to Raising the equity flag – why I’m passionate about fighting inequity in Aotearoa, Dr Hana O’Regan writes about the historical marginalisation of te reo Maori, and the importance of picking your equity battles.

When I was in the 6th Form – the equivalent of Year 12 now – I remember having a debate (actually an argument!) with some of my teachers around the way that marks were allocated to schools for Sixth Form Certificate.

The number of points a school received was based on the School Certificate marks received from the year before, across all subjects. These points were then allocated to different subjects based on a curriculum hierarchy. I learnt that any points received because of the high marks in School Certificate Māori, may be allocated to the ‘academic subjects’, which didn’t include te reo.

Te reo Māori was the only language on the New Zealand curriculum not considered an academic subject. It was aligned with home economics, and woodwork.

I challenged my teachers – how could one language be separated out from all the others? I was told that it was because Māori didn’t have a literary heritage – the “standard” for a language to be considered academic.

I was angry!

This felt unjust and unfair, but I didn’t have a good counter-argument other than saying it was a stupid rule. When I was 16 I didn’t know the history around the treatment of Māori as a language, or the way that it had been deliberately marginalised. I didn’t know about the laws and policies that were imposed to silence it and those who spoke it. All I knew was that it seemed unfair, and unjust.

That frustration increased when I was 20 years old and working in the Alexander Turnbull Library in Wellington. I started going through Māori language newspapers written in the 1800s and early 1900s… I saw thousands upon thousands of examples of a literary heritage, and I was blown away with the depth and breadth of what I found. Māori were active seekers of knowledge. Newspaper stories with current affairs of the time – international, national and local – history, politics, poems, editorials all in te reo Māori! In fact, I now know that people were more likely to be literate at the turn of the last century if they were Māori, than if they were non-Māori.

I was angry that my 16-year-old self hadn’t known this to help me argue the case for te reo with my teachers.

While I now had more information to argue my case for the equitable treatment of my language, I was yet to properly understand the legacy of the fight for language revitalisation in New Zealand. I didn’t have an understanding of the breadth of policies and actions that had led to the decline of the language in Māori communities. That learning would develop over the following years. With each new piece of information, a part of the puzzle was solved, and my confidence and ability to articulate and advocate for the language grew.

I learned to pick my fights

But even having that knowledge and preparing the rebuttals was not always enough. I learnt to pick my fights, and decide when I would argue for the correct pronunciation of my name, someone else’s name, a place name and so on. I made decisions around which parts of the equity landscape for te reo I wished to address. I learnt early on that it could be tiring, exhausting, and emotionally draining to feel that you always had to be on the defensive; ready at the drop of a hat to invest your time and energy into helping someone else increase their knowledge and awareness. Calling someone out for their statements, stereotypes or put-downs, certainly has the ability to create an air of tension, even when done with empathy and patience. I also had to be prepared to fail in my goal and understand that I wasn’t always going to achieve a shift in people’s thinking or behaviour.

Some of the barriers, the blocks, and the failure to successfully raise the equity flag for the treatment of te reo and Māori culture and identity have been harder to swallow than others. The hardest for me have been when I haven’t been able to shield my own children from the negative stereotypes and treatment.

Before my children were born in 2003 and 2004, I had done my homework, prepared all the responses I thought I would need, and knew how to help people say their names correctly. I had absolutely committed to doing whatever it took, even if it meant giving personal pronunciation lessons. But I hadn’t counted on the fact that some people would not be prepared to even make the effort, and would go so far as to insist that they mispronounce my children’s names, or that I give them an English option. I wasn’t prepared to respond with one-liner rebuttals when my three-year-old son was verbally abused for speaking Māori to me in the supermarket. I wasn’t prepared for the fact that the abuser thought she had the right to swear at my three-year-old child who was simply speaking to his mother.

I was lost for words.

I also wasn’t prepared, while sitting in a doctor’s surgery, to have another person verbally attack my child at the age of six, when he was again having a personal conversation with me in his native language. I was taken aback by her viciousness, the swear words she used and the fact that she thought it was remotely okay to curse angrily at a young boy in a public space for talking to his mother.

None of the educational training and knowledge I had acquired at that point prepared me for that moment. Again, I was lost for words.

img_3847-smlShifting the equity dial

When I was 21 I was infuriated by the racial and targeted attacks on my father, and our wider Ngāi Tahu tribe, by a group who were protesting that Ngāi Tahu had asked the Crown to buy a number foreign-owned High Country farms that were up for sale. We were asking whether they could be used as part of a Ngāi Tahu Settlement. Ngāi Tahu had declared we would not be seeking any privately owned land as part of that process. This was met with bumper stickers, fliers and rallies saying (Ngāi Tahu) Hands off the Greenstone Valley.

I wanted my father to join with me in my outrage, to stand strong, and to call them out. But he responded calmly and in a matter-of-fact way; “If you only knew what they only know you probably would think the same”. Of course that infuriated me even more because what he said made perfect sense! But it didn’t help me to deal with the level of frustration and anger I felt at the overt racial slurs thrown our way over this issue. What his words did do, however, was to give me a blueprint for resolution, and an idea of where to focus my energies and attention. I needed to do what I could to help others see what I saw, to learn some of what I knew, in the hope that it might help them see a different picture.

Lifting the veil of ignorance on inequity is the first step. Being able to understand, and know, where inequities exist is a fundamental prerequisite to doing something about them. Using an equity lens to assess situations, policies, practices and behaviours, allows us to see the fuller picture – to deeply understand what the challenges are that we’re dealing with.

But it’s not good enough to know and see inequity. Once we are aware of its presence, we need strategies that help us respond to them – to shift the equity dial. This is often where things become unstuck, as the challenges can become almost overwhelming and seem too hard to change. We then run the risk of becoming apathetic, or suffering inertia, which gives them airspace and the room to persist and exist.

So what do we need to do?

We have to dig deep and find the strength to move into the uncomfortable spaces, even when we feel tired and, sometimes, overwhelmed. At those times we need to commit to the change because it is the right thing, and the just thing, to do.

I will finish this blog by using a quote from one of our tīpuna from Moeraki, Matiaha Tiramōrehu, who petitioned The Queen on the 22 October 1849, which was the first formal statement of Ngāi Tahu grievances against the Crown regarding the South Island land purchases. Matiaha asked:

 “That the law be made one, that the commandments be made one, that the nation be made one, that the white skin be made just as equal with the dark skin…”.

Now I know that the issue of equity goes well beyond skin colour, ethnicity and race, but the foundational sentiment and intent is an enduring one that lasts through the generations. We still have a way to go – but how exciting it is to be journeying together!

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Growing shared leadership and bicultural understandings through whakataukī

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This blog is my story and shares some of my learning and views of leadership and about being a Tiriti partner as I navigate and make sense of the relationships, experiences and opportunities that present themselves.

Leadership can be about action, practice and being present in the moment. Many things come to mind when recalling stories of leadership in action; about being careful and deliberate and understanding that leadership requires decision making, courage and collective efforts. Pōhatu’s (1994) philosophy of Āta (“with care” and “with deliberation”) emphasises relationships and offers guidance and balance around purpose, influence and people. Āta is a philosophy embedded in Mātauranga Māori and part of a Māori world view.

The principles of Āta provide a cultural base for reflective deliberation ensuring the spiritual, emotional and intellectual levels of the education process are valued and respected. (Forsyth & Kung, 2007)

Taking care and being responsible is a constant dialogue and dance when engaging in bicultural practice. It’s a lifelong commitment and the learning happens in unexpected ways that reveal themselves at opportune times. Navigating this space with care, deep respect and reflective deliberation has supported my leadership practice.

Key responsibilities of leadership are to deeply know one’s own identity and to support others in their professional growth, creating space for their reflection, feedback and world views. As Pākehā, this also requires role modelling, advocacy and learning to walk alongside tangata whenua as a Tiriti partner. Mindful of the importance of cultural integrity, it matters to honour and valid indigenous knowledge by creating space. Understanding that everyone and everything has a whakapapa is important learning that can be enriched by reciprocity through trusting relationships.

The power of whakataukī to shape thinking and learning

Embracing Te Ao Māori as a learner and Tiriti partner can make us feel vulnerable, an example is advocating for tikanga practice whilst trying not to trample on the mana of others. One aspect of pedagogy Māori that brings inspiration is the depth and insight captured in the meaning of whakataukī (proverbs). Each whakataukī is a gift and hearing them spoken on marae and in whaikōrero (speeches) connected to the kaupapa feels like a real privilege.

Whakataukī are embedded with mātauranga and have been passed down through many generations. (Te Whāriki Whakatauki cards)

Ruru, Roche and Waitoki’s (2017) research explores the balance between Māori women’s leadership and wellbeing. Using whakataukī as overarching themes for their analysis they found that “whakataukī describe unique aspects of leadership and wellbeing from a Māori worldview. Themes include humility, collectiveness, courage, future orientations and positivity”.

The following whakataukī used in their research is about service, supporting others and harvesting an idea as an opportunity to develop a pathway for future generations (Ruru et al, 2017).

Piki kau ake te whakāro pai, hauhake tōnu iho:
When a good thought springs up, it is harvested, a good idea should be used immediately.

One particular story of leadership in action I recall is an interaction with leaders and kaiako in an early years setting, who were exploring whakataukī. As their facilitator my role was to notice, reflect, and support their professional growth and leadership in the design and implementation of their local curriculum. This example was about strengthening bicultural understandings through authentic engagement with whānau.

At the kindergarten I noticed that the teaching team had really connected with the book Mauri Ora – wisdom from the Māori world (Alsop & Kupenga, 2016). They were exploring the different proverbs and values in relation to their teaching. I could see they were thinking deeply about meaning as a way to support their developing understanding of Te Ao Māori. They began to unpack individual whakataukī and use them in their teaching staff room for reflection and inspiration. This was evident in their conversations and documentation.

whakatuaki-mauri-ora-book

Reflecting on this practice I noticed the depth of their engagement and a shift in kaupapa – the nature of their conversations was changing and enriched. I suggested that they could share the words and images out in the kindergarten where parents and whānau could see. They could even consider putting their book, Mauri Ora, close to where parents arrive or often spend time such as where children’s lunch boxes or bags are put away.

Returning to the kindergarten several weeks later, one of the first things that greeted me was the book of whakataukī open, and displayed alongside where parents and whānau sign in. Kaiako shared with me that not long after building up the practice of choosing a whakataukī for each day and sharing it with parents, families and whānau, a young parent, (a dad who was Māori) initiated taking on this leadership role in the kindergarten. Each morning, he would quietly come in, look through the book, choose a whakataukī, display it for other parents and whānau and talk to the teaching team about his understanding and interpretation of the whakataukī.

As an expression of authentic and shared leadership, this emerging practice became a routine. It was a wonderful way to demonstrate the concept of ako, the shared role of teaching and learning and maximising the gifts and contributions of whānau.

Kaiako then shared what they did with this gift. Each morning the teaching team and tamariki sat together, shared stories and talked about the day ahead. They took the whakataukī, chosen by the parent, and shared it with tamariki, talking about the meaning, and asking the children what they thought and understood. For example by breaking down the values of manaakitanga they could connect it to what children could see, feel and hear in the learning setting. Kaiako would ask tamariki “What do you notice?” “What does manaakitanga look like for you?”. In this way the whakataukī started to reflect in the programme.

I often reflect on the impact of that one action.

Enacting a bicultural curriculum requires understanding the significance of whakapapa as a taonga in Te Ao Māori. We have responsibilities and obligations to champion equity, use te reo Māori with correct pronunciation, and to create leadership opportunities for tamariki to share, learn about and connect with Te Ao Māori including from whānau (Ministry of Education, 2017).

Leadership is not about having answers and obtaining knowledge – it’s about conversations, reflection and creating space to hear and respect the legacies of others. This story highlights the importance of partnerships, relational trust and the opportunities for shared learning when designing a local curriculum through genuine engagement with whānau and conversations with tamariki mokopuna.

To affirm whakataukī is to accept the indigeneity of a Māori/iwi lens and invites the receiver to align their thought processes to this. This is biculturalism in its truest sense as one worldview interacts with another on the same level. Each Tiriti partner has equal status, their individual mana remains intact and intertwines to co-construct a collective understanding.(Te Whāriki Whakatauki cards)

whakatauki-cards

This series of cards (image above) represent the whakataukī in the early years curriculum Te Whāriki. They are available to download from Te Whāriki Online and are a great resource to support leadership practice through conversations and critical reflection.

Download the whakataukī cards >

Grow your leadership with resources, workshops and courses >

References

Alsop, P. & Kupenga, T. (2016). Mauri ora – wisdom from the Māori world. Potton & Burton

Forsyth, H. and Kung, N. (2007). Āta: A Philosophy for Relational Teaching. New Zealand Journal of Education Studies, 42 (1/2), 5-15.

Ministry of Education Te Tāhuhu o Te Mātauranga (2017). Te Whāriki He whāriki mātauranga mō nga mokopuna o Aotearoa: Early childhood curriculum. Wellington, NZ

Ruru, S., Roche, M., & Waitoki, W. (2017). Māori women’s perspectives of leadership and wellbeing. Journal Of Indigenous Wellbeing – Te Mauri – Pimatisiwin, 2(1). Retrieved 17 July 2020, from https://journalindigenouswellbeing.com/media/2018/07/64.51.M%C4%81ori-women%E2%80%99s-perspectives-of-leadership-and-wellbeing.pdf.

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Why do Māori get their own hui again?

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One of the more common questions I get asked by teachers and leaders in English-medium schools is, “How should we respond when questioned about why we are having a Māori whānau hui or a Māori celebration?” The question I assume, arises out of concern for the ‘Māori-only’ part and not for the hui or celebration part. Equally I have heard this question asked in relation to cultural sports teams, Māori seats on boards or councils, in fact pretty much anything related to Māori being Māori in traditionally non-Māori spaces and places. There’s no doubt that this is a question worthy of a well considered and confident response, so this post will share some possible responses. I encourage anyone who is grappling with this to take these into consideration and then formulate your own response – a response appropriate for your community, your whānau and tamariki, and that aligns to the vision and values of your school.

Before I share these responses though, I can’t help but pose my own questions. Like, why might Māori wanting to have their own hui or celebration be perceived as some kind of preferential treatment?  Would the same be considered of say a group of people who shared the same religious beliefs or sexual orientation?  What is really beneath a question like this?  How do societal norms and cultural bias influence a person’s beliefs and motivation to ask this question? Lastly, why is a group of people, simply wanting to live as who they are, perceived to be a threat to others? Is it just that anything outside of the ‘norm’ and dominant culture is a threat?

By contrast, a ‘Pākehā-only hui’ is probably not going to be received well in today’s climate.  However, what about when there are hui that happen to have no Māori in attendance?  Does its relevance get questioned? Does it get called off until Māori can attend?  No.  It’s more likely that very few people even notice and that it continues as ‘normal’.  Why? Because the dominant culture of Aotearoa is Pākehā so hui without Māori representation happen on a regular basis.  Hui where, I might add, often decisions get made that will impact and influence Māori. Perhaps a more positive way to spend our time would be to begin to question those hui more often so that we ensure we are being fair and equitable to everyone.  So maybe the first response to the question “Why do Māori get their own whānau hui or celebration?” needs to be “Why do you feel Māori shouldn’t have them?”  Let’s explore some more reasons why it’s important for schools to empower Māori to have their own hui and celebrations.

Whanaungatanga

Many Māori whānau live away from their ancestral homes – their tūrangawaewae. It can be difficult to be away from whānau, and it can be even more difficult to live as Māori in communities of very few Māori people. Schools have an opportunity to create spaces for Māori to connect with each other and to support each other in Māori ways. I was at a Māori whānau hui once where someone spoke about growing up and not being proud of their Māori heritage, but then meeting other whānau through whānau hui had a positive impact on their own cultural confidence. I’ve heard of other whānau hui where new initiatives have been established such as whānau Te Reo Māori classes for the wider school community. Some of my closest friends I met at a school whānau hui. Schools have a powerful opportunity to provide a platform for connecting Māori with each other, where they can share their aspirations, fears, knowledge, tikanga and Te Reo with each other for the betterment of all. Why wouldn’t schools want to create such amazing opportunities?

tamariki

Māori success

In essence, Māori achieving success as Māori means Māori students being successful in ways that are unique and important to being Māori. It’s about our tamariki being empowered to be who they are, by learning in, through, and about their language culture and identity. If Māori students are empowered to have such success, it deserves to be celebrated and acknowledged in a Māori way. These tamariki are Māori and in many cases they have succeeded as Māori inside the ‘white spaces’ and in a system that is not always conducive to or reflective of who they are. Māori students deserve to be acknowledged and celebrated in a Māori way because it’s their right – to be Māori, act as Māori, achieve as Māori and succeed as Māori.

“New Zealand’s education system has been largely silent on the topic of whiteness and the Eurocentric nature of our schooling policy and practice. However, when I talk to senior Māori and Pasifika ‘warrior-scholars” in Te Whānau o Tupuranga and Clover Park Middle School about “white spaces” they have encountered in their schooling experience they can identify them all too easily. “White spaces,” they explain, are anything you accept as “normal” for Māori – when it’s really not, any situation that prevents, or works against you “being Māori” or who you are, and that requires you to “be” someone else and leave your beliefs behind. White spaces are spaces that allow you to require less of yourself and that reinforce stereotypes and negative ideas about Māori. Most telling of all was the comment from a Māori student that goes straight to the root of the problem, “White spaces are everywhere,” she said, “even in your head.” (Milne, 2013)

It’s our right as Māori

Article 2 of Te Tiriti o Waitangi is Rangatiratanga. In essence, article 2 is an agreement between the Crown and Māori as Tangata Whenua of Aotearoa, that Māori would be empowered to be and live as Māori. Furthermore, Māori would have the power to act and the power to make decisions for themselves as a people – Māori will have self determination. To assert one’s rangatiratanga; is the act of being Māori in all that it encompasses, and to have decisions made by Māori for Māori and in the best interest of Māori. “It is about Māori acting with authority and independence over our own affairs. Tino rangatiratanga is a practice: living according to our tikanga, and striving wherever possible to ensure that the homes, land, and resources guaranteed to us under Te Tiriti o Waitangi are protected for the use and enjoyment of future generations.” (Hitchcock, 2018).

Māori whānau hui in schools, or Māori celebrations such as a graduation perhaps, is a right afforded to Māori under the partnership agreement, Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Let’s be explicit here, it’s a right, not a privilege. As teachers and leaders in state-funded schools are representative of the Crown, they are obligated to uphold the assertions from the Crown to Māori and their responsibilities under Te Tiriti o Waitangi. For school leaders or teachers to decide not to create these opportunities or even worse, disallow Māori this right, they would quite simply be in breach of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Māori whānau hui allow our Māori whānau an opportunity to contribute to the decisions that impact the education of their tamariki. It’s so important that our whānau are empowered to assert their rangatiratanga in our school communities.

“Māori are tangata whenua, one of the Treaty partners, though some people still want to dispute that. That partnership gives Māori mana whenua rights and responsibilities. We are not just another member of our multi-cultural society. For Māori, this is our homeland, the only place we can speak our language — an official language — since 1986. The only place we can live our cultural beliefs, to just be Māori. Other cultures can return to their homeland to speak their language, to live within their culture.”  (Wano, 2016).

Tikanga Māori

Māori have their own tikanga – ways of doing things, customs and values. Tikanga plays a vital part in the act of rangatiratanga – being and living as Māori.  For our Māori whānau to come together for a hui, to discuss an important kaupapa (topic) such as education for their tamariki, it is vital that these hui are grounded in tikanga Māori. This would mean that the meeting or celebration follows similar processes to those our ancestors would have engaged in during wānanga (debate, discussion).  A hui steeped in tikanga Māori and Te Reo Māori may not be inclusive to non-Māori and nor should it be, it’s intended to empower Māori to be Māori.

kapa-hakaMany Māori parents and whānau attend many school-related meetings, celebrations and events that are not steeped in tikanga and Te Reo Māori, and so creating opportunities for this to occur for Māori is vital to ensuring that our whānau and tamariki feel connected to our schools. It’s important that Māori  see themselves reflected in the way things are done in our schools, and that being Māori is considered an asset and something that is worthy of celebrating.

Māori whānau have their own educational aspirations for their tamariki that are unique to being Māori. These aspirations deserve the mana of their very own forum. These hui could also have school leaders and teachers present as invited and supportive guests, who are there to listen and to learn – not to lead or make decisions on behalf of Māori.  In his blog post 4 March 2017, Challenge of Biculturalism Lies With Pākehā, Maurie Abraham, principal of Hobsonville Point Secondary School talks about, his experiences as a Pākehā in Te Ao Māori where, “At no stage was I asked or required to relinquish any important aspects of my Pākehā world. I truly hope I operated in a way that did not ask or require the same of the Māori I was working with.” 

Adding some colour

Māori celebrations, Māori hui and in fact any enactment of tikanga Māori and kawa (protocols) in schools is an huge improvement on mono-cultural ways of doing and being. Put simply, want to add some colour to your school practices? Then add some bicultural colour and watch your tamariki bloom! Article 3 of Te Tiriti o Waitangi is Ōritetanga / Equity. The enactment of Ōritetanga in schools, should look like the equitable representation of things Māori and things Pākehā, our bicultural heritage. In other words, 50-50 representation of things Māori and Pākehā in our physical environments, our learning programmes, our language, our resources – in everything.  We are certainly not there yet, and to be honest we may not get to 50-50 in my lifetime, but I would like to think that we are always working towards improving equitable outcomes for Māori in schools. Perhaps creating opportunities for Māori whānau hui and Māori celebrations or events during the school year is one way schools can truly value and celebrate our unique bicultural heritage.

I hope there are some words of wisdom in this post for many of you who may have been on the fence about Māori hui or celebrations. Māori students walk in their mostly non-Māori schools every single day.  Any opportunity schools have for ensuring the language, culture and identity of Māori is protected and revitalised, is one they should take. This is for the betterment of all of us in Aotearoa. Our bicultural history and beautiful indigenous culture is what makes Aotearoa the very best place in the world.  Let’s ensure we are putting forth into the future the very best tamariki the world has ever seen!

He tina ki runga, he tāmore ki raro

‘Contentment above, firmly rooted below.’  Those with a good family foundation and proper grounding in their own culture and heritage will find satisfaction and contentment in life.

Related Resources

EDtalks

Tō reo ki te raki, tō mana ki te whenua – uLearn18 keynote by Hana O’Regan
Cultural identity and community in whitestream schools – uLearn17 keynote by Dr Anne Milne
Giving mana to Te Tiriti o Waitangi in our schools – Janelle Riki-Waaka
Addressing Pākehā paralysis with non-stupid optimism – Alex Hotere-Barnes

Blog Posts

Is Māori representation Māori privilege? – Wharehoka Wano
Article 2 and Te Reo Māori – Anahera McGregor
Whytangi, Wai celebrate the Treaty? – Rosalie Reiri

References

Abraham, M. (2017). Challenge of Biculturalism Lies With Pakeha. Retrieved from http://principalpossum.blogspot.com/2017/03/challenge-of-biculturalism-lies-with.html

Hitchcock, J. (2018). The Treaty of Waitangi granted us tino rangatiratanga – but what is it?. Retrieved from https://thespinoff.co.nz/atea/06-02-2018/the-treaty-of-waitangi-granted-us-tino-rangatiratanga-but-what-is-it/

Mead, H., & Grove, N. (2003). Ngā Pēpeha a ngā Tīpuna / The sayings of the ancestors. Wellington, New Zealand: Victoria University Press.

Milne, B. A. (2013). Colouring in the White Spaces: Reclaiming Cultural Identity in Whitestream Schools (Thesis, Doctor of Philosophy (PhD)). University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand. Retrieved from https://hdl.handle.net/10289/7868

Wano, W. (2016). Is Māori representation Māori privilege?. Retrieved from http://blog.core-ed.org/blog/2016/04/is-maori-representation-maori-privilege.html

Wilson, J. (2016). The three articles of the Treaty of Waitangi. Retrieved from https://teara.govt.nz/en/document/4216/the-three-articles-of-the-treaty-of-waitangi

Images: CORE Education, All Rights Reserved

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Manaakitanga

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He tangata takahi manuhiri, he marae puehu
A person who mistreats his guest has a dusty marae (the marae is an open area in front of the meeting house, and sometimes includes buildings)

Or in a non marae context:

“A lack of hospitality shown to others is a reflection on us all”

In this post I unpack the word ‘manaaki’ and share my thoughts to help us truly understand its rich meaning.  Some of this kōrero is adapted from a manaakitanga philosophy shared by Te Wānanga o Raukawa.

 

Let’s first look at the kupu to attain some understanding

Within te reo, a word has many dimensions, layers, and depth. Looking at ‘manaaki’ and the parts that form this word, provides some deeper insights:

Manaaki    (to protect, look after, and care for something or someone)

Mana-aki   (to encourage or to enhance one’s authority)

Mana-a-kī  (to be true to your word and what you say)

 

There are numerous examples of manaakitanga that are and can be expressed more often in your school or workplace

  • Catering for everyone’s needs, both physically, familially, mentally, and spiritually (Te Whare Tapawha)  
  • Considering manuhiri (visitors/guests) in the offering of the kind of manaakitanga well known on marae and practiced at your school/workplace
  • Giving people time to share knowledge, reo, and skills with each other.

When manaakitanga is truly understood and embraced, staff and learners support each other. They are respectful of every person, their whānau, hapū, and iwi with whom they have contact, directly or indirectly throughout their lives.

 

The concept of manaakitanga and its relevance to the behaviour of kaimanaaki has some very specific applications for others

Consider the following of your physical space:

  • treatment of equipment – the abuse of this is contrary to manaakitanga and does not reflect rangatira behaviour
  • being mindful of the needs of others to use equipment. This is very easy to forget, but especially important when the piece is sorely needed
  • interfering with the property of others, without their permission
  • intruding into another person’s space, or taking another person’s belongings and so on without authority are not the actions of a rangatira.

Each of these is a breach of the rangatiratanga of the person whose space or property is being interfered with, and each is a denial of manaakitanga.

Other practical ways we can show manaaki:

  • Using appropriate recognition when borrowing the work of others, for example images, presentations, whakatauākī/ whakataukī
  • To be respectful of other people’s spiritual beliefs and values, for example, using karakia
  • To manaaki, uphold and uplift te reo Māori/ te reo rangatira, or any reo for that matter, in what we say, how we say it, how it is used, what is appropriate and what is inappropriate.
  • Are your views personal, or a reflection of your school/workplace values and beliefs?
  • When we joke, do others find it offensive, derogatory, or even racist? Are we aware of these things? How do we know?

te-mako-blog-image-1The ability to bring together an iwi (people) is seen to be the work of rangatira and a true sign of manaakitanga. The role of maintaining manaakitanga is that of all the iwi.

Te mahi a te rangatira, he whakatira i te iwi

The work of a rangatira (ranga=weave, tira=group) is to unite the people

 

What other ways have you consciously embraced the value of manaakitanga in your place?

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