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Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

ĀteaMarch 6, 2023

Are we there yet? The slow inclusion of mātauranga Māori in schools

Guest writer
Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

Developing curriculums to include mātauranga Māori is a slow process – but it’s worth the wait, writes Melisa Chase.

Nāku te rourou, nāu te rourou, ka ora ai te iwi – From my contribution, and your contribution, we will flourish.

It’s an interesting time in education with the recent inclusion of mātauranga Māori into the curriculum. I’m fortunate to work at a kura where the complexities of the recent inclusion of mātauranga Māori in the curriculum did not cause the leaders to succumb to their fears. Instead they chose to talk to the right people, make it a priority and problem solve ways to authentically move forward. Of course it hasn’t been roses, sparkles and sunshine but we are committed to transforming mindsets of teachers and students by providing equal space for mātauranga Māori into our teaching practice, in order for it to permeate our classrooms. 

Titiro whakamuri, ka kōkiri whakamua – Look back and reflect so we can move forward

It’s a stark contrast to my childhood school days. Growing up in the 70s and 80s was a different landscape. We enjoyed long hot summers, one cent lollies, 75 cent Big Macs and dial telephones that were stuck on the wall. As teenagers we would sneak away on a Saturday night to Papa’s Place, where there was breakdancing, bopping and lots of hip hop music. Everything was different, even our language: we called each other muppets or eggs, chewing gum was chuddy, being hearty was having the guts, and school shoes were Charlie Browns or Nomads. If you had caramel Nomads, you were a flash fulla. I had black Charlie Browns because they were cheaper, but I always dreamed of those (very ugly) Nomads. Primary and intermediate schools’ focus was predominantly on reading, writing, arithmetic, arts and sports. High schools offered more subjects, and although the curriculum and school responsibilities were less demanding than today, they neglected to offer a balanced view of New Zealand history, thus erasing Māori knowledge and replacing it with homogeneity to the majority and invisibility to the minority. 

If we go back a further 130 years to 1840, I know my tupuna (ancestors) agreed to an interdependent country that would include our history, but this is not what I was offered when attending school. I imagine they expected I would also learn about our migration story that began centuries before our arrival to Aotearoa in the 1200s. I’m sure they wanted me to know that I come from a whakapapa of the best navigators in history because of the knowledge and state-of-the-art technology required to traverse the largest ocean on the planet for three weeks in one sail, discovering islands along the way. This was during a time the rest of the world believed if they sailed too far, they would fall into an abyss. My tupuna would have anticipated that my learning would include the difficulties they had acclimatising to an untouched island and how they settled in with the land. Obviously I would be able to contribute to the lesson, sharing where my waka Te Arawa and Tainui landed, and how my iwi adapted to the whenua and puna wai ariki (sacred waters) of Taupō-nui-a-Tia and Karapiro. I’m sure my classmates would have been fascinated with how far back my knowledge and connection to the land goes, exceeding theirs by hundreds of years.   

Maintaining our own language, spiritual and medicinal knowledge would’ve been areas that my tupuna naturally considered non-negotiable. Learning what plants to use for health issues, which Atua provides the kai, where to find beneficial kai sources and where to avoid. I should have learned about why we read the environment and stars to harvest, cultivate and replenish the earthly resources. And let’s not forget the sacredness of spiritual intelligence, procreation, parenting, kaumatua and the value of my ikura (menstruation). What about the many brutal inter-tribal wars that occurred all around the whenua (land) because I am a mokopuna (descendant) of warriors? But the cream of the crop of important information would have been our version of the arrival of Abel Tasman in 1642 and then Cook in 1769. I mean, those arrivals would have been the laughter of the island, not just because of the ridiculously clunky, slow boats they sailed in, but also the low intelligence of these peculiar, smelly people. 

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So, yes, it’s about time mātauranga Māori was included into the curriculum, because our contribution to this land is even more vast than what has been mentioned above. Te Tiriti was signed as a declaration of partnership, but instead we have built separate communities who are blissfully ignorant of the land we call home where newer New Zealanders occupy more space than Māori. Māori are caught between the dichotomy of being proud to be Māori and the shame of being Māori, so therefore it is safer for me to be less brown and more white. In Becoming Pākehā, John Bluck wrote “Māori have no choice about being bicultural. They have to operate in what is still a dominantly Pākehā world. Pākehā don’t have to. They can still live here as though Māori don’t exist.”

Tūwhitia te hopo, mairangitia te angitū – Eliminate the negative, accentuate the positive. 

It’s been two years since I was invited by management to engage in conversation around MOE’s new (but vague) mātauranga Māori and mana ōrite (equal status for Māori knowledge) initiative. I won’t lie, I was just as confused as my colleagues and I am the te reo Māori teacher. One of my roles as an in-school Kāhui Ako leader is to deliver mātauranga Māori professional learning to my kura. To set the scene further for you, Māori are a minority, both students and teachers. Are you reading between the lines? 

Confronting my own lack of knowledge of Māori history and deep seated insecurities around my Māori-ness and indigeneity caused me to pause. The erasure of Māori knowledge from the landscape of mainstream New Zealand was delivered through colonisation and fortified in every home. My parents, brothers and I as well as most of our offspring, are products of this. 

In a short space of time, myself and colleague Ruth Richardson delivered the first of many planned Mātauranga Māori professional learning sessions to our staff of 85. To be clear, I am not advocating for the erasure or replacement of NZ History, but I am advocating for a wave of change by the inclusion of indigenous stories. I am insisting they sit side by side. I am not saying, “You are wrong.” I am saying, “I am right too.”

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We ran sessions over three weeks and we used Matariki to frame the learning: Waitī and Waitā. Teaching traditional weaving, Matariki & Rehua – looking at the healing powers of pepeha and whakawhanaungatanga, ururangi and waipunarangi. Considering the implementation of te reo Māori in science, tupuanuku and tupuarangi –seeing the world through Māori eyes, an academic approach. And finally, hiwa-i-te-rangi – looking at how mātauranga Māori has evolved over time.

That’s a lot right? So, how did we go? 

Everett Rogers’ Diffusion of Innovations Theory posits that when new innovations or behaviour are introduced to a community, everyone falls into five different adopter groups. The percentages are gathered according to the time it takes to adopt new innovations or behaviour. The groups are as follows:  2.5% are the innovators (the movers and shakers), 13.5% will be the early adopters (the enthusiastic go-getters), 34% are the early majority adopters (the FOMO), 34% the late adopters (If I have to!) and the 16% laggers (they are not buying what you are selling!). These percentages create an ‘S curve’ and within the curve are “chasms” which are the gaps between each group representing the difficulties of any group in accepting change. 

As a reflective practitioner, I would say our percentages do reflect the Diffusion of Innovation Theory, and I would also agree with Simon Sinek when he suggested that the innovation be aimed toward the early adopters as they will create the movement. The late adopters will come along because they have to, and as for the laggers, they will always exist. Let’s be straight up here, implementing Mātauranga Māori into mainstream schools is messy and uncomfortable, and when change is required, resistance and fear is guaranteed. 

Regardless of where people are grouped or what phase we are in, I am not discouraged by these metrics because this has always been about honouring treaty partnerships, and if there is one thing Māori know, since the signing of He Whakaputanga (Declaration of Independence) in 1835, we have always been willing and patient participants at the table. 

This article was written as part of the Education Perfect Fellowship, which supports teachers doing post-graduate studies to investigate critical issues in education. 

Keep going!
Design: Archi Banal.
Design: Archi Banal.

SocietyMarch 6, 2023

Courageous kōrero is the first step to overcoming intergenerational trauma

Staff Writer
Design: Archi Banal.
Design: Archi Banal.

At a wānanga between gang whānau and a Royal Commission of Inquiry, a talanoa occurred on violence committed by the government towards gang members as children.

Shortly after 9am on a crisp February morning, a karanga rang through the air in Manukau. A pōwhiri under Tainui kawa was beginning the proceedings on a historic day. This groundbreaking occasion saw – for the first time ever – representatives from the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, Māori gangs (and their Moana cousins), community groups and churches share one room. On the invitation of Hikoi Nation – made up of senior members of the Mighty Mongrel Mob (MMM), Black Power and King Cobras – the Royal Commission was there to listen to how government actions caused intergenerational trauma and mamae. Since 2018, the Royal Commission has been researching this kaupapa, and they were keen to hear how the government could avoid repeating the same mistake in the future. 

The tangata whenua of the pōwhiri collectively represented many of the hundred lovers of Tāmaki Makaurau and the manuhiri came from across the motu. As such many whānau, hapū and iwi were present. When the manuhiri crossed the makeshift marae courtyard – a gravelly carpark strewn with motorcycles – one guest responded to the karanga with whaikōrero. Once inside the makeshift marae – an events centre – whaikōrero, mihimihi and waiata were exchanged between the tangata whenua and manuhiri. To round off the formal opening, a Pai Mārire karakia was recited in unison. 

Representatives of the various rōpū sat among one another to frankly kōrero and talanoa. From current and former gang members, lawyers and media to anti-violence campaigners, politicians, protestors and academics, the room was a site to behold. In it, courageous conversations were being had. Sir Pita Sharples, Tigilau Ness and Tracey McIntosh shared the room with survivors of vicious violence. Ness, representing the Polynesian Panthers, said he was “standing here as a witness to the unending injustice” and mentioned, “they tried to lock you up, but you are resilient.”  

Some Might Mongrel Mob members at the wānanga. (Photo: Tommy de Silva)

The voices that bounced off the walls were vulnerable, talking about traumatic episodes of violence – all in the hope that moko and mokomoko wouldn’t have to go through it too. But those future generations were also present, chasing each other around, subconsciously learning about a dark truth of colonisation – systematic, racist violence, even against children. One speaker from the Aiga Trust said, “I brought the next generation here to see what we’re doing today,” adding that “it’s a historic day.”

This talanoa required revisiting generations of trauma for those the state was tasked with “caring” for. “It wasn’t care – don’t call it that!” yelled one whaea, filled with anguish. “I live with the trauma from 45 years ago still today,” said one kaumātua. Representatives from the Royal Commission were there to hear about the long-term effects of government actions.

It is no surprise to anyone to say that some gang members commit violent acts upon others – that is a fact. But another fact that would shock most New Zealanders is that as tamariki many gang members were abused – physically, mentally and sexually – by so-called carers on the government payroll. Once out of state or faith-based care, formerly abused children rallied together out of shared experience, forming or joining gangs – a safety in-numbers gig. These were some of the sentiments shared not only by the gangs but by the Royal Commission officials, the media, the faiths and all present at February 20th’s “Abuse in Care” wānanga. 

A graph visualising the staggering difference in incarceration rates of Māori and non-Māori who were in state care. (Graph: Abuse in Care – Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care)

According to the Royal Commission, 80-90% of members in Māori gangs were in state care. The commission accepts that state care played a role in creating the gang landscape of today. According to a King Cobras representative, the state system was a horrible place that normalised cultural alienation and dissociation. It has been said that the gangs fill the cultural hole that hapū and iwi once inhabited. A MMM rangatira noted that “state care led to lifetimes of poor health, drug and alcohol dependency and repeat offending.”

But the agenda of the wānanga wasn’t only to restate facts that everyone in the room already agreed on. Instead, the wānanga was an opportunity to call out the government to spark a concerted effort for change. It was about moving progressively forward by taking into account past atrocities.  

Rua Maynard, an anti-violence campaigner, said that raising awareness about hard-to-talk-about kaupapa – like violent trauma – was an excellent first step towards mitigating further violence. However, he hoped it would be the first step of many. In that way, the courageous conversations on February 20 were the foundation for overcoming intergenerational trauma. Royal commissioner Ali’imuamua Sandra Alofivae said that abuse has deeper intergenerational impacts than we currently understand. 

Survivors of abuse were at the wānanga to “tell our stories so we can move forward,” said a third-generation state ward, who was “in it for my kids; I don’t want a fourth-generation state ward.” A MMM rangatira spoke about the day being “about protecting the tamariki and mokopuna.” One reformed former violent offender mentioned that in the community mahi he now does, he works four generations into the future to keep mokopuna safe. By centring on the next generations, the gangs were just as focused on solutions as they were on sharing their stories.

The gang whānau were unequivocal that the solutions must come from them, not the state. One kaikōrero said that if the government tried to tell the gangs what to do, they wouldn’t do it. “How can the paedophiles and the abusers determine the payout?” questioned one MMM leader. Commissioner Alofivae added to this kōrero. She noted that gang whānau are marginalised voices who – from their experiences of abuse in state care – rightly don’t trust the system. The solution must be “bottom-up policy change that reflects the reality of lived experiences,” Alofivae argued. She also said that “we need to treat gangs as the legitimate parts of society that they are” – designing their own solutions to problems they know best is a good start.

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Cultural reclamation was the primary solution discussed by the gang whānau to stop intergenerational trauma. Many speakers talked about how reclaiming the culture stolen from them by colonisation sparked their journeys away from violence. Alofivae believes that the use of one’s reo profoundly grounds people. There were mentions of language classes and cultural groups inside of prisons that reformed abuse survivors from violent individuals to peaceful and deeply culturally and spiritually literate people. The Royal commission’s chair, Judge Coral Shaw, said that state care forcefully disassociated tamariki from their whānau, iwi, hapū and aiga. Disassociation caused “spiritual and cultural isolation from their whakapapa,” she said. To find solutions, Shaw believes “Aotearoa-New Zealand needs to learn, listen and respond [to gang whānau] so future generations don’t also suffer abuse in care.” According to Phil Paikea, a well-known anti-violence campaigner and former Black Power rangatira, to end the violence the government must give gangs more resources.

Gang whānau are eager for solutions, hence why they participated in the wānanga with the Royal Commission representatives. The first step towards salvation is having the courage to kōrero, as many of the traumatised men did both at the hearings and at the wānanga. They spoke about historically taboo topics, not only for their individual benefit but for their kids and their kids’ kids. 

Ātea