uLearn21 – Thriving individuals and communities

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Across two blogs, Janelle Riki-Waaka and Josh Hough share their perspectives on Aotearoa e tōnui nei | Thriving Aotearoa, the theme of uLearn21. In the first blog they discuss Te tangata takitahi e tōnui nei | Thriving individuals and Ngā hapori e tōnui nei | Thriving communities.

This year’s uLearn21 kaupapa has got us talking! As representatives of both tangata whenua and tangata Tiriti, we were interested in understanding where our perspectives and opinions aligned, and where they parted ways. A summary of our kōrero is shared with you all in this blog. We are both really excited about continuing this kōrero at uLearn21 and we look forward to seeing you all there!

Te tangata takitahi e tōnui nei | Thriving individuals

Janelle: When I think about people thriving as individuals, in the simplest sense, I think about people being happy in their own skin and enjoying a comfortable and fulfilled life. In essence, living happily as who they are, surrounded by people they love and having access to all that they need to thrive. For Māori, this might look like being deeply connected to their language identity and culture, having relationships that fill up their wairua (soul/spirit) and having access to the resources they need to nourish themselves and their whānau.

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

For many Māori it may be challenging to think of themselves in the ‘individual’ sense. Our concept of happiness and wellness is often associated with the happiness and wellness of those we love most. We are descended from tribal people and we tend to think about ourselves as but one part of the greater whole – one drop in the awa (river) that is our hapū. Our social structures and concept of whānau are often roles and responsibilities based. For example, we each have a role to play and associated responsibilities that contribute to the wellbeing of our whānau, hapū and wider community. What we know though is that in order to contribute to the happiness and wellness of our whānau, we need to be connected, fulfilled and healthy. For Māori, the health and wellness of our taiao (environment) also contributes to the happiness and wellness of our people.

Kei te ora te wai, kei te ora te whenua, kei te ora te tangata.
If the water is healthy and the whenua flourishes, so too are the people well. (Nō te awa Manawatū)

A thriving individual is one that can contribute to the communities they serve, supporting them to thrive whilst enjoying happiness and wellness for themselves as individuals. It’s a little like every aspect of a hangi contributing to the overall sweetness of the kai! The sweetness of the kumara is most definitely accentuated by being cooked alongside the chicken and pork, trust me!

Our Māori pūrākau (myths, stories or legends) often contain lessons and guidance from our ancestors on living our best lives so that we may thrive both as individuals and as a whānau. Supporting our tamariki and rangatahi to strengthen their connection to their Māoritanga is a vital part of the hauora of our people and our country.
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“Our Māori narratives and pūrakau have some beautiful themes. Themes of love, themes of respect of whakapapa so you know where you come from. The story of Matariki for example, where we teach about the nine stars of Matariki coming down to take care of Papatūānuku or Mother Earth. Who can’t resonate with a story or the theme of taking better care of Mother Earth and for that matter everyone else.” Jase Te Patu (uLearn21 keynote speaker)

Josh: The Merriam-Webster definition of the word “thrive” is “to grow vigorously”, and the word is often used synonymously with other positive terms like “blossom”, “flourish”, or “succeed”. So what then does it mean to “grow vigorously” in Aotearoa?

As an able-bodied man learning from an unwell disabled partner, my notions of what it means to thrive as an individual have been challenged. The Western paradigm and social media tells us that thriving individually is all about having new experiences, buying flash toys, travelling to destinations, and smashing our goals. But when someone is chronically unwell and they simply cannot do any or many of these things, what then does thriving as an individual look like? For Pākehā in Aotearoa, my answer to this lies in two words; purpose and responsibility.

Living a life of purpose involves living into our identities; being fully who we are and leaning into this to live a life on purpose. A thriving individual is someone who lives by their beliefs and values, yet does the work to continually challenge and grow these beliefs and values. They follow their passions in the ways that they are able, they prioritise balance, and they make a difference – sometimes in small ways, sometimes in grand ways, but consistently with an eye towards their fellow individuals. They rise above the mantras of “survival of the fittest” and “getting after it” and the idea of the constant hustle, and instead see themselves as interconnected – individuals who are meaningful parts of a whole. They are able to accept others as they are, practice gratitude, and be generous in their kindness.

As for responsibility, systems that have led to inequities in this nation were created and sustained by Pākehā, and so it goes to follow that the responsibility to reckon with the injustices caused by them, and the requirement to respond to them with action, falls to us. This is a collective responsibility, and while it can make some uncomfortable, it’s our duty as Treaty partners to learn about our Tiriti responsibilities and uphold them. Being aware of our position, responding to the legacy of colonisation, and doing “the work” is the requirement of Pākehā – both individually and collectively.

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Ngā hapori e tōnui nei | Thriving communities

Josh: To thrive in community requires knowing the communities you connect with and your part in them. Investing time to get to know communities and the people in them means you get to celebrate their expertise, learn from their stories, and work together with purpose. To achieve this, we need to press into and be guided by the shared values of the community – which is hard to do if we don’t have any community relationships!

Applying an equity lens, thriving communities are the drivers of meaningful and lasting change. Root causes of inequity are impacted by system-level changes, not by individual efforts. Narrow-focused programmes and initiatives that benefit individuals rather than the collective have limited success and can actually perpetuate inequity. No one school, early learning service, business, department, organisation or individual, no matter how well respected, funded, located, or resourced, can achieve system-level change alone. In essence, there is strength in numbers.

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

Recently, I had the privilege of engaging in some research with a valued colleague, Lex Davis, who belongs to some communities that I don’t, one of which is the takatāpui community. I’m not Māori or queer, but this does not prevent me from actively partnering with rangatahi takatāpui to work towards the collective goal of equity for young LGBTQIA+ Māori in Aotearoa. I do this through building trusting relationships with takatāpui, and leveraging my position of Pākehā power and privilege to help the voices of takatāpui be heard and learned from. I can’t do this work in isolation – alone, I have no knowledge, no standing, and no right – but together, I can help amplify the call to action in the spaces in which I move. Our work together has resulted in a kaupapa, Ko tātou tēnei, which invites those in other spaces to move their relationships with takatāpui from sympathetic to transformative.

While I’m writing about community here, not myself as an individual, it would be an oversight not to mention the gift this work has been to me personally. I’ve come to know young people whose wisdom, love, and knowledge have taught me much and moved my heart. This is the power of communities thriving – meaningful change for the individuals in them as they partner to enact system-level change

Mā te te tokomaha, ka kā te ahi.
By the many will the fires be kept burning.

Janelle: As I noted earlier in this blog, thriving communities rely on thriving individuals. For many years in Aotearoa’s history, tangata whenua have largely been in survival mode. We are still experiencing daily the aftermath of colonisation and the intergenerational trauma left in its wake.

Many of us are dreaming of the day our journey leads us as a people from ‘surviving’ to ‘thriving’. When our marae are warm and bustling with the mauri (life force/essence) of our people. When our language can be heard in everyday conversations at the corner dairy. When tangata Tiriti and tangata whenua are genuinely engaged in equitable partnerships, co-design, co-governance and shared decision making. We have made many inroads on our journey but sadly we are still encountering ignorance at every turn.

Many of you may have read in The Listener about the recent conflicting opinions about Western science and mātauranga Māori. Or have seen appalling comments from some members of our community following the Government’s formal apology to Pacific peoples of Aotearoa for the Dawn Raids. These bumps in the journey are often exhausting for the navigators and the passengers, however they are important reminders for us all of how far we still have to travel. They keep us alert on the journey and often further prepare us for the oncoming potholes!

In giving thought to what a thriving Aotearoa might look like, I consider the growing identity of Aotearoa and our cultural practices as a people. Our Aotearoatanga if you like! NZ Pākehā as a culture has been heavily influenced by the tikanga and kawa (marae protocol) of tangata whenua. Our everyday language use now incorporates many Māori words that have seamlessly integrated into our norm. E.g. whānau, mahi, kai, puku, kia ora, aroha, ka kite.

Our tikanga of manaakitanga and koha are largely practiced in homes and workplaces throughout the motu. I mean who would show up for dinner at someone’s house without taking something! If we traced back the origins of some of our everyday Kiwi-isms, we would see that many have been born and adapted from the tikanga and kawa of Ngāi Māori.

With that in mind, perhaps a thriving community is one that reflects the identity and values of those that inhibit it. In the case of our young and beautiful country, founded by tangata whenua and shared with tangata Tiriti, perhaps we are still defining our Aotearoatanga and in fact the best is yet to come.

Aotearoa is about to re-introduce an indigenous celebration to our calendar of public holidays – Matariki. Our country is at a point in our history where we will all collectively honour and celebrate an aspect of Māori tikanga together as a nation. What an amazing part of our journey to celebrate.

ulearn21-speaker-images-300px-updated-rangi“For me, Matariki is part of the decolonising of our division of time. It’s reclaiming our traditional, environmentally driven, timekeeping systems that allow us to interact with our environment and acknowledge the changing of the year. Matariki is for all New Zealanders. It’s not a Māori celebration any more in my mind. It’s become a national celebration and that’s its future for me and I think that’s a wonderful part about Matariki. It is about the best things of humanity such as being kind to each other, aroha, those are the basic principles. It’s about charity, hope. It’s about promise.” Dr Rangi Matamua (uLearn21 keynote speaker)

To learn more about Matariki visit the Living by the Stars website.

Part 2 of this blog, sees Janelle and Josh discuss Ngā ahurea e tōnui nei | Thriving cultures and Te tōnuitanga o te āpōpō | Thriving futures. Read Part 2.

uLearn21 is online 13-14 October, with all conference content available until 31 January 2022. Learn more and register now >

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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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Streaming – the unexamined wallpaper

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By Dr Pam O’Connell

When I was a social studies and maths teacher, I didn’t question why we streamed or ‘banded’ our learners. I just accepted this was the way it was – that it was best for learners to be sorted using a test that I did not even administer or mark, and probably did not even see the questions! I often taught the lower stream. That left me to decide what I could offer by way of resources and activities for these learners. I know I spent a great deal of time re-creating, cutting and pasting (literally!) activities that I thought my class would enjoy and be capable of achieving. Essentially, I was ‘dumbing down’ their curriculum with repetitive, mind-numbing activities; in effect, contributing to blunting opportunities for my learners and their sense of self-efficacy. I had never experienced the impact of being in “cabbage” maths or remedial classes.

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Image copyright CORE Education, all rights reserved.

Professor Richard Elmore writes about the “unexamined wallpaper” on our staff room walls. He argues that most often we do not even ‘see’ the pattern or colour as we enter it each day. The streaming of learners based on their perceived abilities is certainly part of this wallpaper. We are so entrenched in this practice that we don’t see the patterns of harm it has caused for, what is now, generations of learners in Aotearoa New Zealand. This harm has been more fully described in Ending Streaming in Aotearoa, tagged with the impact of colonialism and illustrated by the voices of young people who articulate the trauma it has caused.

Even when I read Elmore’s 2002 article ‘Hard Questions About Practice’ as part of leading a national professional learning programme, I did not ask questions about streaming or the enduring grouping of learners. We knew about the importance of high expectations – studies emerging from research in South Auckland brought this to our attention in the teaching of literacy. The phrase is now everywhere in our system level policy documents but it is only over the last two years that streaming has come under scrutiny in terms of the explicit and tacit low expectations we may hold of the learners we work with.

OK, enough of beating myself up in public! Many of you will have a similar story. But we can take action now to influence change, reveal these patterns on the wall, get clarity on why streaming still exists in our communities and what forms and guises it now has.

I think the most critical question to ask of ourselves is who does this practice really benefit? It is one of Elmore’s hard questions about practice. It is also a question raised by indigenous researchers of traditional research methods, along with initiation, representation, legitimacy and accountability.

These hard questions place streaming at the heart of the current political, educational and public demand for equity.

  • Who initiated streaming in our schools, when and why?
  • Who has benefited from streaming?
  • Who is represented in decision-making about structure and policies such as streaming?
  • What legitimacy is given to the voices of our learners and their whānau in decision-making?
  • Are educators accountable to their communities around streaming and its impact?

Defining streaming seems to be the first barrier to de-constructing streaming. Indeed, it is not straightforward. The first barrage of reactions to the streaming research released by Tokona Te Raki in April (2021) was to suggest this was all about secondary schooling, just as I described above, or the entry prerequisites in place for particular NCEA subjects. It is good to see the streaming questions ramping up now, prompting social media groups to consider if this is also about gifted education options that we design.

I also began to dig deeper with my primary colleagues on this. Yes, it is an issue here too. Those reading groups often matched to levels of reading texts do have the hallmarks of streaming, which I am beginning to define as ‘fixed and enduring groups that stigmatise learners’. The reading groups may be all sorts of imaginative names, but learners still know they are in the ‘bottom’ reading group and will likely stay there. Ask them.

Interestingly, the shining light in all of this has been the teaching of mathematics in primary schools, where substantive research has shown that mixed ability grouping, alongside what is termed “low floor, high ceiling” and culturally sustaining task design is bringing the results we want. Learners who are more engaged and challenged, build agency, self esteem and achieve at higher levels as a result.

There is really not a void after taking streaming away. There are well proven equity approaches that together will replace this practice. I am lucky to be part of an organisation that is working closely with Tokona Te Raki to support their call to action to end streaming in Aotearoa. We do not think this is a centre by centre, school by school, kura by kura response.

Together we advocate de-streaming as a community response – where you work with mana whenua, with whānau, with your learners and teachers to explore the whakapapa of streaming in your rohe, hear the voices of those that have experienced streaming and determine your critical pathway together. Kāhui Ako are well set now to take on this challenge as a community with mana whenua and whānau.

In terms of pedagogical responses there is not a single answer. We think it is a collection of practice kete. CORE started in a different place though, by looking at learning approaches in Te Ao Māori to guide our thinking. Knowing more about ‘tuakana teina’, ‘ako’ or ‘talanoa’ from your own community can shape the design for teaching and learning, flexible grouping and your role as kaiako – don’t assume you know this already. My experience working as an ally with iwi is that these kupu have rich tikanga and subtle differences depending on place.

As a final thought, I offer another idea that frees learners from the ability-group confines for learning that we impose, this is multi-age learning. Check out this reading about its advantages . We already have this structural response in our early years learning and in rural education. I think I need to start looking for some research on these learning environments in terms of normalising difference and supporting cognitive, social and emotional growth.

I am setting a challenge to you as readers to ask the hard questions about streaming in your learning community.

Have a look at our three free de-streaming resources. These are prompts for you to explore further.

If you would like to start a conversation about equity in your learning setting, that includes, looking at approaches to de-streaming, please contact me: pam.o’connell@core-ed.ac.nz

References
Elmore, R. (2002). Hard questions about practice in Education Leadership, Volume 59 | Number 8 p 22-25. ASCD.
Bishop, R. (2011). Freeing Ourselves. Sense Publishers: Boston.

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Raising the equity flag – why I’m passionate about fighting inequity in Aotearoa

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By Dr Hana O’Regan, Tumu Whakarae CORE Education

I was raised in a family that was consumed with the issue of justice and equity. We had incredible opportunities to discuss these kaupapa when other New Zealanders, and those from overseas, came to our home. When I was about nine years old a West Papuan man visited my father. It was a meeting that would leave a deep impression on me. He was living in exile from his country and had committed his life to raising awareness about the genocide his people were suffering.

The man took some time to tell me about his fight for justice, and about petitioning our Government, and the Australian Government, for help and recognition. I remember getting really upset by his stories, and demanded that my dad do something about it! Surely if the Prime Minister knew, he would do something to help? I couldn’t reconcile that people might know about such cruelty and injustice, and not do anything about it! I still find this hard to reconcile.

As I grew up, the dining room table discussions of my youth were often focused on the kaupapa of injustice – from my own Ngāi Tahu tribal Treaty claims and grievances, the histories surrounding the Highland Clearances and grievances of my Irish and Scottish tīpuna, to stories of the Welsh Coal Miners on the West Coast, their welfare and employment rights. There were also family stories of the roles people played in the riots around the Springbok tour / No Māori-No Tour campaign, the waterfront strikes, and protests around continued land alienation policies through the Public Works Act or other such mechanisms of the State.

My personal equity journey, especially in terms of my Māori heritage and identity, underpins the passion that I bring into this debate. My first-hand experiences of inequity – directed at me, at those around me, and what I have seen – have profoundly impacted the way that I have viewed myself, and others, in terms of access, opportunity, and potential within education and wider society. While my reaction to those experiences has been tempered by time, they have ignited a fire in me that seems to grow with time.

Raising the equity flag

I’ve been challenging my understanding of equity issues, and where possible, the understanding of others, for decades now. My own understanding has grown considerably. I have learned about the history of inequity in our country and its origins, and about how specific parts of that historic narrative have impacted where we are now as a nation.

I have found myself vigorously wanting to raise the equity flag across the motu, and to help construct a new narrative in those spaces where I can see the existing narrative perpetuates negative outcomes for certain groups in our society.

I’m also doing a lot of thinking about the issue of equity and education and what that means within the context of Māori learner engagement and achievement.

CORE Education Tātai Aho Rau is committed to an equitable and thriving Aotearoa through learning.
CORE Education is committed to an equitable and thriving Aotearoa through learning.

I am excited by the current levels of discussion and, for the first time in my life, I am starting to see the equity kaupapa actively addressed across many spheres. It is true, we have a considerable journey to travel, but how exciting to know that the journey is now on our immediate horizons.

But I am also anxious about how well prepared we are as a country to move ahead on the journey. So far, we have not told ‘our story’ as a nation well. This means we don’t have a clear view of what the issues are or how they have come to be.

As a nation we have become very accustomed to putting out defensive or deflecting responses. We have also become very good at justifying inequities or ignoring them. I understand that discussing the issue of equity and being open to identifying inequities can be hard to do and uncomfortable for many reasons. It takes a strong level of commitment and resilience to push ourselves, let alone whole communities, into uncomfortable spaces. Despite this, there have been times in our collective history where we have been able to do just that on a number of issues, so my anxiety is tempered with a certain level of optimism, that this is something we can do and should do together as a nation.

This will be in part addressed by the introduction of Aotearoa New Zealand histories into the national curriculum in 2022. It means more people will have access to a wider and more informed narrative.

A number of other waves of thinking and information on the tides of our national consciousness are continuing to gain momentum, like the Unteach Racism campaign being led out by the Teachers Council and the Human Rights Commission’s work on tackling racism in Aotearoa. The combination of these efforts will serve to help develop a movement of change that I know will help us shift the equity dial in a positive direction for future generations. We just need to prepare and be brave enough to withstand the challenging currents swirling around us that may try and pull us in another direction, or stop us from moving forward.

I want to further explore my understanding equity and its nemesis – inequity – and I will be sharing some further thoughts on the topics of inequity by design and the Aotearoa experience, the kaupapa of streaming in education, and the steps and leadership required to achieve more equitable outcomes. But in this first blog I wanted to locate myself in the equity story – and to reflect on a few of the factors that have motivated me and brought me to this point, working here at CORE Education, and our vision of equity in learning for all New Zealanders for a thriving Aotearoa. It’s an acknowledgement that to do so is challenging, it can be heartbreaking and uncomfortable, but it’s also a story of change and transformation, liberation and hope.

I hope you will join us in the journey ahead.

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Good teaching is like good cooking!

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pedro2

With a background as a sociologist whose scholarship and research focuses on the ways in which schools are influenced by social and economic conditions as well as by demographic trends in local, regional and global contexts, Pedro Noguera was an inspired choice of keynote to open day two of the uLearn20 (virtual) conference. He didn’t disappoint!

pedro-reflection

Beaming into us from his base in California, Pedro captured the essence of what had been emerging through the conference to that point with his opening challenge to the participants, asking, “How can we make our schools and early learning settings more responsive to learners?” A simple question, but one for which there is no simple answer. Instead, it invites a deep engagement with a wide range of issues, and the exposure of many of the assumptions that underpin how we currently work in schools and as a system.

pedro-barriers

In his presentation Equity, Empowerment and Deeper Learning Pedro traversed a number of the key issues facing educators today. His emphasis was always on what is best for learners, highlighting that we cannot disconnect education from the cultural context and influences on our learners. Excellence, according to Pedro, should be achieved through equity. We must start by affirming the language and identity of the individual learner, and address any interpersonal or institutional bias as it is exposed. We must learn to move past the barriers to equity that we face on an almost daily basis – complacency, racial bias and a punitive mindset – and seek to embrace new ways of working, being and relating to others.

Historically, education has been used as a tool to assimilate learners into a common culture to prepare them for taking their place in the industrialised workplace. Our current model and approaches, according to Pedro, have been focused on control and compliance, and logistical and technical changes have dominated the conversations about how learning communities should operate. This was highlighted in the responses from schools, early learning services and systems to the recent COVID-19 lockdowns.

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Pedro’s message was clear. To create the educational settings we need we must shift the paradigm. It won’t happen simply by introducing new programmes or changing policies. We need to start at the very core of our beliefs about what is important and what matters for our learners and their futures. We’ll know we’re there when our attention is on developing talent in all of our learners, rather than trapped in deficit thinking that leads to remedial actions.

So what was the call to action I heard from Pedro? Simply this – we need to re-capture the ‘delight’ in seeing all of our learners succeed and flourish. This won’t happen if we continue to focus only on trying to ‘fix’ problems. Instead, we must reorient our efforts to recognise and respond to the needs of each learner, acknowledging their culture, language and context in the programmes we design.

A final comment from Pedro sums it up well for me… “Good teaching is like good cooking. They always come back wanting more!” Imagine our educational settings and system where we could genuinely say that is the case?

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