Mātauranga Māori in the English Classroom: Starting with the Text

The text has always been the safe choice, and I have chosen it many times. As a newly minted English teacher keen to engage young Māori minds, I was immediately drawn to texts written by Māori or texts with Māori characters, settings or themes – whatever that meant. I truly believed that the text would carry the intent of my efforts and that, in some way, I was meeting the needs of my Māori students. A Game of Cards by Witi Ihimaera was one of my early favourites. It resonated with me. I had been there in the homestead with my own Nan. I was so enthusiastic about teaching it, that I was surprised when my ākonga didn’t share my appreciation or connection with the text. For sure, I thought at least one of my ākonga Māori would connect with the story as I had.  Evidently, this was not the case. I was coming from a good place, but I had assumed much.

Luckily enough, I was working in an English department that valued an individual approach to teaching and which encouraged me to find new ways of incorporating new knowledge into my programmes of learning. Because of this, and the encouragement of other amazing educators, I felt empowered to consider more deeply my beliefs and approach to teaching. 

Scavenging in the dark and dusty recesses of the English resource room became somewhat of a past-time. The adjacent book room was long and narrow with A4 paper boxes stacked to the ceiling and filled with books. I searched through everything. I even managed to get into the only thing in the room with a lock which was the old metal filing cabinet at the end which housed past exam papers. In the workroom, cabinets and drawers concealed hidden gems I was able to resurrect and create new class sets from. My interest was also taken by the English mailing list which would periodically produce a request, followed by a stream of responses, seeking guidance on the texts teachers were using with their Māori students. While noble, the mailing list mostly reproduced an all too familiar list of Māori texts and little else. Alongside countless hours on the interweb searching, I had discovered an uncharted world. I spent many hours hunting for gems. Looking back, in my eagerness to find the ‘perfect’ Māori text, I had lost sight of what it is I was actually looking for.

I had never fully appreciated the depth and breadth of Māori literature, nor understood the very limited resources available to help ākonga and their kaiako to learn from them. As well as this, I became acutely aware of this thing known as Māori literature. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out how to define it and wondered if I should. I was left pondering what it was, how to find it and whether this was in fact what I needed. Trying to define Māori literature was a bit of a fool’s errand,  but it helped me to see the true richness and authenticity of Māori storytelling and the ways in which we try to incorporate it into our teaching practices. More recently, Steph Matuku presents the idea that  anything a Māori writer produces “becomes part of the canon of Māori literature”. Further, she raises the idea that Māori literature is constrained to the point that Māori stories tend to be confined to the “brutal stories of domestic violence”, “poignant tales of returning to the rural marae” and the “retelling of classic myths”. Critically, she highlights that these are the types of stories Pākehā think that Māori should be writing. The publishing world certainly favours such. I really needed to focus less on defining Māori literature and recognise the latent power within stories to transcend difference, but that the differences were critical in understanding one another.

What I have come to understand, and what I think I knew all along, is that the text itself would never be enough. It didn’t matter if I found the holy grail of Māori text. It would never suffice. What is also important, is to recognise that just because a text might be considered a ‘Māori text’, this does not endow it with some special power to engage and reach the hearts and minds of our ākonga. In this resides a dangerous assumption. We assume that Māori will engage when something Māori is put in front of them. This amounts to a trite and erroneous understanding of Treaty relationships and the role educators play in helping Māori to enjoy education success.

I attended an English medium school and I recall my 7th Form English teacher engaging us with texts which were diverse and interesting. None of the texts that connected with my 7th Form self, were uniquely Māori or specifically written by Māori authors. I grew to love and appreciate Shakespeare and found respite in works of science-fiction and fantasy, while many of my friends preferred the mundane existence of historical fiction. I still felt like I was successful and I don’t remember a single ‘Māori text’. This is not to say that we didn’t study these texts, I just never connected with them in that way. Texts were never simply put in front of me. Looking back on my time in 7th Form English, I wonder if my teacher understood what was actually happening – I’m sure she did. So much of the cultural experience in class was seamless and honest. I felt that my culture was valued and that I had something of value to contribute to the learning process. What is clear to me now is that the relationship between myself as a learner and my teacher was one built on reciprocal trust and respect. Mātauranga Māori and Māori ways of knowing and being were so tightly connected to the learning experience, that it was hard for my young self to decipher the difference. I came to expect it as a part of my learning in every English class. This is what I was looking for in the English resource room, way back when. The thing is, I was never going to find it there.

It should go without saying that, as English teachers, we have within us the power to influence the lives of our ākonga in profound and lasting ways – especially our ākonga Māori. The voices of Māori literature are constantly expanding.  With this expansion, our list of ‘Māori texts’ grows. As such, we need to consider the pedagogies we use when approaching any text, not just those we designate as Māori. Our ākonga Māori undoubtedly deserve experiences with literature which reflect their own lived reality and resonate with their cultural contexts. More than this, they deserve to have access to the ocean of literature the world offers, supported by culturally located and sustaining pedagogies. 

In order to achieve a shift in the way we teach, an effort must be made to explore new approaches and to generate new resources and tools for kaiako and ākonga. These resources and tools should enhance access to Māori literature and support the use of mātauranga Māori approaches in accessing and understanding ‘non-Māori’ literature. Sorry to break it to you, but no one person or organisation is going to do this for us. There is no silver bullet, just you – us. The critical part of this endeavour resides in our ability, as a collective, to share our successes and failures and to demonstrate ako.

There will always be challenges and our fear of getting it wrong often paralyses us. Our job is to create rich, interesting opportunities for our ākonga to learn and grow.  On that note, I would also advocate for a clear focus on skill development and their application to a range of texts. A child that does not have the opportunity to apply their skills to a range of rich texts is missing out! Doing a ‘class novel study’ should be a means to an end. It should be a way to demonstrate the skills required for effective analysis, promote enjoyment and then our ākonga should be set free. They should be encouraged to seek and engage with new texts. Texts that challenge and inspire. Texts they like or don’t know about! Then they can use their new found abilities to make sense and meaning.

I realise that some or all of what I have shared may come a-cropper when looking at the ‘refresh’ of the Curriculum and NCEA, particularly the English Learning Matrix. In relation to the realignment of NCEA, the enormity of the task cannot be overstated and the time given is neither sufficient nor conducive to a quality outcome. However, every effort is being made, by English teachers, to provide the best possible framework for young people to find success in English classes across the motu. My intention here is not to critique this work, although I have some reservations. My intention is to highlight the deeply held beliefs and assumptions in the collective psyche about Māori texts and the role they play in educating young people. 

Take for example the first significant marker in the Learning Matrix which relates to Māori voices. The indicators for success at each curriculum level rely on an awareness and understanding of te ao Māori and Māori literature. The crux is that ākonga and their kaiako will be required to demonstrate an understanding of the interconnection between te ao Māori and Māori literature. Put another way, when we study Māori texts, ākonga will gain a better understanding of the Māori world and by extension we give life to Treaty partnerships in the English classroom.  Assuming there is some agreement about what forms Māori literature, anything more than a surface approach to this task is prone to tokenism and confusion. Therefore, what will be required is a deeper understanding of te ao Māori as it relates to storytelling. The texts we define as Māori and that belong to the bank of Māori literature are the critical connection. Why? The further one looks into the refresh, the clearer our position becomes. Consider the following statements from the Learning Matrix:

• “Māori creators provide an important perspective on living and participating in Aotearoa New Zealand and the world”
  • Who is considered a Māori creator? 
  • Who decides? 
  • Which works contribute to the development of the ‘important perspective’? 
  • Are Māori creators only those with published, written texts? 
  • What role does an oral tradition play in perspective taking? 

• “The study of Māori texts plays a role in the process of honouring Te Tiriti o Waitangi”.
  • How do we know this?
  • Is it because it is a ‘Māori’ text?
  • What are we doing in the study of a ‘Māori text’ that honours Te Tiriti?
  • Who decides?
  • What about the sci-fi, steam-punk, fantasy novel – set in space – written by a celebrated Māori author?

• “Interpreting texts by Māori … creators enable readers to connect the unique language and literature of Aotearoa”
  • Again, who is a Māori creator? Who decides?
  • How do we ensure that interpretations are developed through the lens of our students and not solely reliant on the teachers ability to dissect mātauranga Māori conceptual frameworks?

• In the study of a range of texts including those by Māori … creators, students will learn that writing can have intrinsic beauty.
  • What is it about the text being created by Māori that results in an intrinsic beauty?
  • Why include texts created by Māori at all?

These examples highlight two things. First, that our intentions are good. We want to do a good job and we know that we have neglected our full responsibility as Treaty partners. Second, that we are prone to a reliance on Māori creators and Māori texts to do the heavy lifting when it comes to working with our ākonga Māori. This often results in ākonga Māori being required to help a kaiako or their peers to connect with the concepts being explored. Another observation I would make is that if it’s not a Māori text it tends to be a Māori context or a topic. In any case, aside from navigating the minefield that is defining Māori literature, we need to consider other approaches that are not solely reliant on a Māori text. Approaches that work to enhance the experiences with all sorts of texts. Approaches drawn from and grounded in mātauranga Māori alongside the English language canon.

Treaty partnerships in the English classroom are not just about sharing books from each other’s culture. It’s about attempting to see the world through another’s perspective and not relying on the other to tell you what to see. More importantly, it’s about ensuring that every ākonga Māori has the ability to present their own interpretations and understandings in culturally safe and uplifting ways. I think most would agree that mātauranga Māori and te ao Māori have so much more to offer the English classroom, than simply Māori texts by Māori creators. 

This is probably going to sound a bit silly, but, we spend so much time trying to ‘teach’ mātauranga Māori, that we forget it is a lived experience. It might sound silly because we are teachers, and our job is to teach. Yes, but trying to ‘teach’ mātauranga Māori demonstrates that we misunderstand the importance of experience.  Incorporating mātauranga Māori in all its forms into our classrooms should be commended and encouraged. Trial, fail, succeed, share. Rinse and repeat. However, we should remain cognisant of the fact that mātauranga Māori is not simply a conceptual framework or thing. It is born from a lived experience and built from the knowledge of our tīpuna. The knowledge does not and will never belong to you. Your ākonga, whānau, mana whenua, hapū or iwi are kaitiaki of this knowledge and can help in your journey – but the responsibility is yours. A true incorporation of mātauranga Māori requires a shift in our values and mindset.  In order to aid this shift, we must find ways to experience it. This is likely to lead us into uncomfortable or challenging situations. Ka pai. Be open to it. Embrace it. Learn from it. Integrate it into every fibre of your being. Then will mātauranga Māori begin to resonate deeply within and move from head to heart, where relationships are bound and conviction flows. 

If this sounds ‘airy fairy’ I get it. However, if we want to understand mātauranga Māori, which we must in order to effectively incorporate it into our practice, then we will need some help. Just don’t expect it to come in the form you expect or in the time that works for you. Mai i te kōpae ki te urupa, tātou ako tonu ai – from the cradle to the grave we are forever learning.

Our greatest asset in this work is you. Each of you. Striving for your best, working through the complexities, honouring the knowledge holders and sharing your experiences. As we do these things, we will create a community of educators bound by whanaungatanga and alive in the spirit of ako.

In the spirit of ako and to help get the ball rolling here are some of my thoughts about how we might reimagine the way we approach teaching and learning and one which begins to see the place of mātauranga Māori differently in our practice. 

CLICK ON THE IMAGE BELOW TO BE TAKEN TO THE DOCUMENT.

From somewhere in the middle – A couple of educators pontificating about physical education, culturally sustaining practices and the place of mātauranga Māori in PE.

From the outside looking in it can be easy to feel disconnected and from the inside looking out it can be easy to forget everyone doesn’t see things the same way. Here are some thoughts from two educators on physical education, culturally sustaining practices and the place of mātauranga Māori in PE.

He oranga ngākau, he pikinga waiora.
Positive feelings in your heart will raise your sense of self-worth.

FROM THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN:

A perspective from Heemi McDonald, an English teacher and an advocate for physical education.

As an adolescent, I think PE intimidated me. I’m not sure that’s the right word, but it conveys the sentiment. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it or that I didn’t enjoy it. I think that I discovered early on that I was worried about being ‘found out’. What if I couldn’t climb the rope? What if I couldn’t climb it in the ‘required’ time? What if I couldn’t perform in the way that was required? What if I let someone else down? 

I didn’t suffer from anxiety, stress or anything like that. By all accounts I was the scrawny white Māori kid in the class. None of these things stopped me from participating, but I always held back. In my mind, the performance culture of our PE classes was such that it created an environment where risk and failure might result in actual ridicule from others. This was not the intention of my teachers, but the ‘boys club – peak performance’ culture was damaging to my confidence and changed my relationship with physical activity. 

Now this might have been all in my mind, however as soon as it was no longer compulsory I opted out. Some of you might even be thinking that I should have “hardened up” and just got on with it because I was missing out. You wouldn’t be the first to think or say it and you might be right. The thing is, I still showed up to every PE class and participated as best I could. The funny thing about all this for me is that I was a very active person up until High School. Football, Basketball, Touch, League, Kapa Haka, Softball, Karate. We were encouraged from a young age to be physically active and involved. Physical activity in all its forms was how we lived. If it wasn’t sports, it would be beach activities, work on the farm, eeling, camping or water activities. Community was an important element of our lived experience, and physical activity, fed into this experience. 

Coming from a large family certainly contributed to the construction of my identity and my connection with physical activity. My siblings and I were active and tough on one another. We were all very different and we made sure that we reminded each other of that fact. I came to think of this as the whānau filter – the stuff only your family would say and get away with. It stung and made you mad, but the filter said that it didn’t matter because it was whānau and ultimately we would still manage to find our way through. Unfortunately, my experience with my High School PE classes began to erode my confidence in ways that meant I was no longer comfortable being involved in physical activities with my own family if it risked failure or letting others down. Your siblings can be some of your toughest critics, next to yourself, but prior to High School I was always able to place the whānau filter on the banter pile. Post High School, I was not so sure anymore. 

The interesting thing for me, is that at High School, in all of my other learning I never felt this way. I might not have liked it or even been that good at it. But, something about my time in PE deeply affected that part of my identity. The risks associated with physical activity, particularly in public and with sports, had become so great that it became easier to just not participate and to avoid. My PE teachers were not bad teachers. What they failed to recognise was that my cultural identity couldn’t find a place to live in the PE class. How I had experienced physical activity and what I valued in it was never discussed, considered or developed. For me, it was either a ‘fit in’ or ‘be eaten’ kind of a thing. I had gone from a child that loved physical activity, in all its forms, to one that preferred to steer clear rather than be ‘discovered’.

My PE classes hadn’t caused this disconnection, but they had compounded an already crowded landscape of confusion and frustration. My home life was extremely complicated and I had kept hidden a disability and was fiercely protective of this. I refused to openly share that I was completely deaf in one ear because I didn’t want to be treated differently. The idea of PE and physical activity carried so much baggage now, I didn’t want a bar of it. I really didn’t give PE another thought in High School. I still remained active, I didn’t continue with any formal sports although I would play the occasional game touch on the lawn or indoor netball or volleyball. I liked to be physically active in the outdoors, but at all times I ensured the risk was low, especially where others relied on me to perform as a part of a team. Fortunately, or ironically, PE hadn’t given up on me and returned to my life in unexpected ways.

Given my strained relationship with physical education, I never would have thought that PE would continue to play an important part in shaping my identity and being heavily involved in my life. As it turns out, my wife is a PE teacher, her two brothers are PE teachers, my mother-in-law was a sports coordinator, my wife’s brother, uncles and cousins were All Blacks or Māori All Blacks, I have worked in schools where I co-taught with PE teachers, I now serve on the board of Physical Education New Zealand and I’m even coaching my daughters Year 5-6 netball team. It’s kind of hilarious when I think about it. 

Now, as an outsider looking in, I would say that PE is such a powerful avenue for good in the lives of young people. Given what I have now observed from amazing practitioners, I wonder how my adolescent self would have fared during my formative years if only I was able to experience a little more of what I see today. One of my observations has been that, in the fight for relevance and place, PE as a subject has continued to evolve and grasp for the new and unexplored. I would characterise PE departments as just important enough. By this I mean, PE never really seems to be relegated to the boondocks as an ‘optional’ subject but then never really enjoys the status of ‘core’ or ‘compulsory’. It seems that there is a middle ground occupied by the PE departments in Aotearoa, won through continued and hard fought ideological battles. What I have also observed is that, perhaps due to this status, PE departments are primed to be able to better reflect the lives of their ākonga Māori through more than the Māori activity.

I wonder if for my PE teachers, they just didn’t know any better. I never really saw myself or my lived experience in my PE classes and don’t remember having access to ‘Māori activity’ or te ao kori. By ‘Māori activity’ I mean the thing that is designated in our PE classes as Māori – be that hand games, stick games, activities with Māori language embedded or ki o rahi. These activities appear to have grown in prominence in PE classes across the motu. In working with PE educators I have come to realise that below the surface, the introduction of Māori activities appears to be about trying to connect more deliberately to te ao Māori, mātauranga Māori and by extension to ākonga Māori. This action alone could have transformed my experience. What is clear to me now is that the relationship between myself as a learner and my PE teachers needed to be one built on reciprocal trust and respect. I would have benefited from the integration of mātauranga Māori and Māori ways of knowing and being in my learning experiences. I should have been able to expect it as a part of my learning in every PE class. 

FROM THE INSIDE LOOKING OUT:

A perspective from Amy Kaukau, a PE junkie who loves to teach and be on the edge of innovation in PE. 

I am a PE teacher because I absolutely loved PE when I was at school. I lived for my PE class. For me PE was about a sense of belonging. If I could do, and do well then I belonged. I grew up with 4 brothers and so in order for me to feel a sense of belonging in my own family I had to be able to participate in sports. Otherwise, I spent the afternoon at home watching my brothers go at it. 

When I reflect on this now I realise this is also how I have made friends, through physical activity. As a student, I never really thought much of those kids at school who brought sick notes each week. I just thought they were lazy. I never really thought critically about the learning environment that existed – I mean what teenagers would – and I probably perpetuated some of the culture others found difficult. 

It wasn’t until I went to uni and had a lecture with Kirsten Petrie who highlighted the environment that exists in a performative PE class. I had not once thought that maybe if the context changed or the learning objective changed then maybe the kids who brought the sick notes would participate and find joy. It was a catalyst of  ‘aha’ moments which has continued to oscillate back and forth throughout my interactions in the classroom, which have contributed to the shift in my thinking about the purpose of PE. As a kaiako, armed with this new pedagogical approach  I strive to ensure that all ākonga can find a sense of belonging within physical activity.

I have taught for 15 years now and have seen many kids who brought notes and excuses at the start of each year. Working together with them to find joy and a sense of belonging drives every conversation and interaction I have with them. I try to work together with them to help find their own joy and sense of belonging in the PE classroom. Now, as a kaiako, I often feel the greatest sense of achievement, when a kid stops bringing the notes and has found their place. 

More recently, one of the things I have recognised is that my approach to building a sense of belonging tended towards homogeneity. I hadn’t considered that for my ākonga Māori, how I viewed a sense of belonging might have been seen as foreign or alien. It became apparent that for my ākonga Māori, a sense of belonging was not tied to a context or a concept or things that you could add to the ‘tool kit’. It also couldn’t occur unless I created an environment where culture was valued and sustained. This was no longer good enough.

As PE kaiako, we need to +1 our game. Learning more expansively about mātauranga Maori will build confidence and momentum. Māori knowledge and understanding has many layers and as a Pakeha kaiako it is a worldview that I may never fully understand or grasp. However, one of our most critical tasks is firstly acknowledging that a Māori worldview exists and second, that it needs to be integrated into our teaching practice where it can live and breathe. The relationship between mātauranga Māori and western knowledge does not need to be competitive or steeped in conflict. Looking for complimentary or alternative ways of viewing the learning experiences can only act to deepen the learning for our ākonga. 

FROM SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE:

Some of the things Heemi and Amy have learned about PE and where to next.

Even now, reading each other’s experiences has proven enlightening and confronting. We would acknowledge that our lived realities were so different and almost seem like they don’t belong in the same space. Co-teaching can be one of the great levelling agents in education. It can help teachers to recognise that their assumptions, positions or views might be wrong or different or foreign.

In 2020, Amy and I were fortunate enough to co-teach an English and PE module. Amy would probably characterise it as ‘Heemi’s dreams coming true’, but experience has taught me that it was probably the other way around. This wasn’t the first time I had been in this situation with PE and Amy had experiences connecting to a range of other learning areas. What we began to discover was that our worldviews and theories of practice started to impact both our teaching practice and professional skill development in learning design. Our module involved different types of physical activities including waterfalls, canyoning, the Hakaimata hike and zoom exercise sessions (thanks to the RONA). Being kaiako meant that both Amy and I had to demonstrate ako in a way that ensured our ākonga recognised that some things might be just as challenging for us as them. As well as this, our ākonga needed to understand that who they are mattered and that their values, views and perspectives were important and understood. We were able to use physical activities and movement to engage our ākonga, to support critical thinking and reflection through inquiry and have fun.

The tricky part as educators is that often these activities, and especially ‘Māori activities’ are meant to carry the whole of our efforts to provide a culturally sustaining learning experience for ākonga. The cultural identities of our ākonga are intimately affected by our practices in the classroom. What we do know, is that while the Māori activity is a good addition, on its own it will never be enough. It doesn’t matter if we find the holy grail of Māori activity. It will never suffice. We can recognise that often in the act of incorporating these activities in our lessons, we assume that Māori will engage when something Māori is put in front of them. 

In PE, the realm of te ao kori has provided a deep and rich connection to te ao Māori. Arguably, our engagement with te ao kori has been to supplant the Māori activities into our lessons while negating the experiential aspects of mātauranga Māori. Perhaps we are doing the Māori activity but without a Māori frame of reference to explore the why, how, what, who and so on. In doing these activities are we thinking in a Māori way or viewing the world as Māori? Often the result is then, a real struggle to genuinely bridge the gap between aspects of te ao kori and the integration of mātauranga Māori in practice. 

The integration of mātauranga Māori should be viewed as more than a single context, idea or value. Starting with contextually bound activities provides an access point, however, this then must be followed up by experiential learning opportunities where mātauranga Māori has a chance to be seen, heard, felt and understood. Connecting our understanding of mātauranga Māori to the notion of ‘in, through and about movement’ we are able to begin to see the potential for mātauranga Māori to permeate our programmes of learning in new and interesting ways.

“We learn IN movement by developing physical skills and experiencing enjoyment.”

• Here we are considering ways to highlight the importance of enjoyment, performance and participation. With a mātauranga Māori lens we might consider:
  • Contexts which reflect Māori experiences or understandings.
  • Relying on culturally sustaining pedagogies through which experiences are student centered and authentically connected to the lives of our ākonga.
  • Māori values or social norms in relation to the enjoyment of and participation in physical activity, designing experiences that connect with whānau or mana whenua.
  • Māori concepts or beliefs as they relate movement or physical development.

“By looking at different perspectives THROUGH our participation in movement, we are able to develop a range of capabilities.”

• Here we are considering ways in which ākonga develop the capabilities necessary to take on different perspectives. This may involve learning about or experiencing a different perspective in order for the learning to stick. With a mātauranga Māori lens we might consider:
  • The role of Māori values or beliefs (tikanga) in shaping an understanding of the world, as well as how these values or beliefs are contrasted against other, non-Māori, frames of reference.
  • The role of oral traditions in the transmission of perspectives.
  • Utilising Māori activity or te ao kori as a way to immerse ākonga in experiences while aligning these experiences with Māori conceptual frameworks.
  • Engaging with Māori scholars, kaumatua, mana whenua or whānau to share their perspectives.
  • Design experiences in partnerships with Māori that enable students to see physical activity, movement or participation from the perspective of Māori.

“By learning ABOUT how and why people move, we come to understand what influences our own and others’ movement, as well as what has an influence on movement settings and trends.

• Here we might be considering ways in which the biophysical and socio-cultural are explored and connected to self and others. With a mātauranga Māori lens we might consider:
  • The role of complementary understandings from te ao Māori which help to explore or explain the biophysical or socio-cultural in new or different ways. 
  • Thinking about the intersection between western knowledge and mātauranga Māori. It’s not about finding an equivalent, but exploring concepts or ideas which lead to a new or different understanding of both the biophysical and socio-cultural.
  • Māori values related to movement and how tikanga might affect the way in which movement is performed, received, accepted or understood.

Another way of viewing the integration of mātauranga Māori might be as follows:

The diagram depicts the key elements to consider when integrating mātaranga Māori into your programmes of learning. The outer circle indicates that culturally sustaining pedagogies must be the foundation of our teaching practice and that the development of relationships is critical to the success of ākonga, particularly ākonga Māori. The inner circles relate to aspects that should be considered looking to connect mātauranga Māori to learning experiences. The table below is an extraction of the idea presented in the diagram. You can find a link to the table here.

As educators, the heightened sense of responsibility and obligation related to the status of mātauranga Māori in our learning programmes is likely to be interesting, confronting, rewarding, challenging, confusing and liberating. That is to say, that each school, each kaiako and each community will experience mana orite me te mātauranga Māori in different ways and with varying degrees of success.  From the middle ground, we hold a unique position. We are able to push the boundaries of what is possible, to innovate, trial and implement. While most of what we have shared relates to a secondary context, the ideas permeate every experience a child has with PE, through their journey in education. We might think about the new entrant child still growing an understanding of their own body and the natural way in which movement forms every part of their being. Or the prepubescent tween fighting awkwardness and social constructs, forming identity and making sense of the emerging teenage world. Or the young adult, not quite a teen and not quite an adult. Their relationship with movement and physical activity has been influenced and constructed on the numerous experiences they have had through their schooling – come what may, they are almost certainly set for life. All of these children deserve to have experiences that reflect their uniqueness and value. They are entitled to kaiako that know and understand them and that are willing to do what it takes to see them succeed.

The important work for every PE teacher is to realise they have the ability and power to affect the lives of their ākonga in profound ways. We know better now than we did before, but we need to find a way to keep moving forward. Our work with mātauranga Māori is not about throwing everything out that we are already good at or that we have sorted. It’s about creating some parity in a relationship which, to date, has really been a relationship for one. The terms of our relationship with physical education need to be adjusted in order to make room for and honour our other partners in this work. As we do so, fewer ākonga will be disconnected and we will find greater success and a renewed satisfaction in our mahi.

Some Final Thoughts from Heemi

My relationship with physical education has well and truly transformed. I owe that, in part, to my wife. Even before I became a teacher, we would often talk about school, look at health and physical education resources and I was even subjected to the odd educational video (played in a VCR) about menstrual cycles or human anatomy. Our relationship is such that we were able to share this part of her experience in a way that allowed me to begin to form my own new experiences with PE. The other significant factor in shifting my understanding and perspectives about physical education was my move to Hobsonville Point Secondary School. It wasn’t so much the school, although that has had a profound impact on my teaching and view of education. It was being surrounded by amazing PE educators, all of whom loved their craft and embraced innovation and newness. They willingly shared, collaborated and learned alongside me. I never felt ‘othered’ or as if I didn’t get it. I had positive and mana enhancing interactions with PE teachers and academics all of whom have impacted my view about what it means to be a part of a physical education experience. (There are too many to name, but you know who you are – thank you!!!) Much to Amy’s dismay I’m sure, one of my greatest PE teaching moments was with Tome Chan Chui in our co-taught module MJ1000. This is where I think I realised the true potential of integration and connected learning experiences. I felt like a PE teacher and I’m sure Tome started to feel a little bit like an English teacher. 

I take heart in the fact that, despite everything, I now see the whānau filter functioning again in my life which has restored some sense of balance and connection to physical activity. So much so, that when my whānau found out that I was on the board of PENZ the general consensus was – what the hell! We had a laugh, I shrugged it off and got to work.

Embedding Mātauranga Māori in Kura Auraki (English Medium Schools)

In 2021 there were 23,161 students enrolled in Māori medium education, representing 2.8% of the total school population. Conversely, approximately 25% of the total school population identified as Māori and were enrolled in kura auraki (English-medium schools), representing just over 204,000 ākonga. The overwhelming majority of ākonga Māori continue to be educated in kura auraki and as such, the responsibility falls on these schools to ensure ākonga Māori have everything they need to successfully navigate the education system. Māori medium educators, have for years now, successfully educated ākonga Māori under the auspices of mātauranga Māori and in the context of te ao Māori. Their successes speak volumes to the role of mātauranga Māori in the life and education of Māori.  

Deeply embedding mātauranga Māori into kura auraki, requires purposeful and deliberate acts of planning, teaching and reflection. What’s more, it requires an ironclad commitment, courage and drive to support the school and community to see the absolute necessity of mātauranga Māori, and all it encompasses, for every ākonga. Most importantly though, the successful embedding of mātauranga Māori is a proverbial life-raft for the educators of ākonga Māori in kura auraki. 

The embedding process is as much strategic as it is operational. Strategic planning ensures the vision and direction of the school is clear and all encompassing, while pedagogy or practices on the ground are refined and directed towards achieving the set vision. The proposition is simple. Unless a school prioritises mātauranga Māori throughout the entire system, from charter to classroom, any approach or change is unlikely to stick. So many classroom teachers are implementing Māori conceptual frameworks in impactful and meaningful ways, but the effect is often limited to those given teachers and the ākonga in their classes. In some cases, whole school transformation has occurred for the benefit of ākonga Māori because, from the board to the classroom, mātauranga Māori is seen as crucial and necessary in creating an environment which honours and breathes life into Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

Kura auraki need to consider the incorporation of mātauranga Māori at a board level as much as in the classroom. The challenge is, being clear and direct in the intention to incorporate mātauranga Māori and then supporting the system to achieve the vision. Having read a few lately, many charters are vague and non-committal. Targets are heavily focused on each ākonga Māori finding academic success with little in the way of systemic shifts or pedagogical reform. The irony is, the matauranga Māori life-raft has long been available, but has so often been overlooked in favour of some mystical self-preservation skills.

For years, programmes and advocates have argued for a more inclusive and meaningful approach to the incorporation of matauranga Māori, or more broadly te ao Māori, into kura auraki. However, in the face of mounting evidence, with our lungs burning from the water intake, the system still reverts back to what’s necessary, manageable and appeasing. Programmes like Te Kotahitanga offered both the life-raft and rescuers, and still, for many, we ‘tried’ or mostly ignored the life-saving offers and with a zealous dogma convinced ourselves that we had the situation in hand. The statistics for ākonga Māori in kura auraki continue to prove damning. It’s just not okay. We have still been unable to sufficiently shift the systems within our schools to work for ākonga Māori. And, in case it’s not clear, mātauranga Māori is essential in honouring a role as tangata Tiriti and in supporting and teaching tangata whenua. The ‘answers’ for Māori are undoubtedly linked to mātauranga Māori and te ao Māori and if embedding mātauranga Māori into each kura auraki is both strategic, operational and necessary, “Houston, we have a problem”. 

A board, alongside their Principal, sets the strategic direction and priorities, and the Principal alongside their staff, operationalises the strategy. Currently, all school boards are required to “prepare and maintain a charter, and submit this to the Ministry of Education each year”. Each charter establishes “the mission, aims, objectives, directions, and targets of the board that will give effect to the Government’s national education guidelines and the board’s priorities, and provide a base against which the board’s actual performance can later be assessed”. That is to say that each school needs to address both what the Ministry needs and what the school wants to achieve. Each charter must include the “aim of developing, for the school, policies and practices that reflect New Zealand’s cultural diversity and the unique position of the Maori culture”. Cool. 

One might wonder, as I have, what happens to these charter documents once they are submitted to the Ministry. Evidently, nothing much. I imagine they exist in some dark digital vault in an obscure corner of Ministry cyberspace. They are part of a legislative requirement of compliance, with which each school is obliged to adhere. The ‘trust’ and responsibility is placed squarely on each school to ensure the objectives are met and that the message is adequately communicated to their community. Apart from the occasional visit from the Education Review Office (ERO) external critique to the efficacy of these documents, from the Ministry or elsewhere, is non-existent.  

Probably all that’s highlighted here is something we have known for a very long time. It’s basically, fend for yourselves. This is a very good approach for localisation of priorities, curriculum and learning experiences. It means that each school should, in some way, reflect their community needs and aspirations. The challenge is that not all communities are created equal, nor the leaders of each school. Defining a school community is sometimes boiled down to just those who are willing to talk or engage with the school. I realise that this is not a fair assessment of all schools, because scores of teachers are working tirelessly to support their ākonga Māori to find success.

The unfortunate reality though is that, if a schools strategic direction and goals do not demand the embedding of mātuaranga Māori into the system, these efforts often prove in vain. From the school board down to the classroom teacher, the trickle of apprehension morphs into a torrent of doubt, suspicion and overwhelm. One example might be that often, the work to integrate practices informed by mātauranga Māori, succumb to the eurocentricity of appraisal systems and professional development cycles within schools. The efforts of individual teachers remain too small and too isolated. In so many strategic documents, schools set targets that drive practices towards reports focused on reading, writing or NCEA achievement without the inclusion of an equally dominant requirement to embed mātauranga Māori.

I realise this may read as both critical and cynical. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit of both. However, the intention here is not to point the finger but to highlight a critical deficiency in how we operate as schools and that attention is needed if we are to have any hope of ever giving equal status for mātauranga Māori in NCEA. The task of giving equal status for mātauranga Māori in NCEA does not start with NCEA. In many ways that’s the end point. If we want to be successful in our endeavour to provide for an equal status for mātauranga Māori in NCEA, it will mean more than a reliance on our classroom teachers. They need the system to both acknowledge and honour the opportunities inherent in the adoption of mātauranga Māori conceptual frameworks into the school setting.  Ākonga Māori need to be able to meaningfully experience mātauranga Māori from day one. 

When it comes down to it, in my experience, the successful incorporation of indigenous knolwedge frameworks in English medium school settings, more often then not, fall prey to either fear or apathy or both. This is not to say that there isn’t a whole lot of good will or even desire, but the unfortunate reality is that often competing achievement priorities are viewed as imperative within the system and ultimately lead to the languishing and unfortunate demise of most attempts to incorporate mātauranga Māori. The challenge is for boards and school leaders, in both Primary and Secondary schools, to see the embedding of mātauranga Māori as an imperative. Ultimately, this may mean letting go of some things – and rightly so. The cost has been too great for ākonga Māori and they continue to pay. Whether a school population is 10% or 80% Māori, each ākonga in Aotearoa is a partner to Te Tiriti o Waitangi. We cannot look at it any other way. In partnerships, we work towards mutual success and show up for each other. Our charters and strategic plans are the first place we show up. The rest is about making it a reality.

For a Board:

Are we clear about how mātauranga Māori informs our process of strategic development? Is our focus sharp, realistic and achievable? Vagueness is the enemy of success.

Are our intentions hidden behind complex phrasing or convoluted language?

What concepts or ideas, informed by mātauranga Māori, do we rely on when developing our strategic priorities? Can we name them?

What do we see happening in each part of the school system that can open up space for the equal status of mātauranga Māori?

How does each part of our strategy reflect kaupapa Māori principles, values, and whānau, hapū or iwi aspirations?

How will we involve whānau, hapū or iwi in the journey and ensure value is created for them?

How will we be accountable for the embedding of mātauranga Māori into the school system?

What methods of feedback or accountability will we use?

Are we adequately resourcing our approach to embedding mātauranga Māori?

Are we ‘future proofing’ the school so that, when people leave, the vision continues to grow?

For Senior Leaders:

Are we doing too much? Is our focus clear? Is it clear to our team?

How can we keep things simple and clear?

Does our team understand the vision and know what we are trying to achieve? Are we consistent and repetitive in our messaging?

What are essential aspects of mātauranga Māori that we and our staff need support in understanding and/or developing?

Who might we partner with to assist us in our journey of embedding mātauranga Māori?

A Common Language for Learning founded in Mātauranga Māori – The Development of Learning Modes at Rototuna Senior High School (Māori Modes of Learning)

In English medium settings, the inclusion of mātauranga Māori, is seldom the starting point. In fact, it is too often left waiting to be integrated into whatever the system looks like once established. Believing that how we ‘feel’ about mātauranga Māori matters, is unhelpful and problematic. As educators in Aotearoa New Zealand, we have an obligation to our tamariki, in particular Māori, to start from the position of Māori and build accordingly.

Undoubtedly, this may place teachers, students or community in an uncomfortable position from the outset, however, too many Māori students in English medium settings live in this ‘uncomfortable’ reality all of the time. They have no other choice. If we are to transform the experiences of all our learners, including Māori, then we must find ways to start from the position of Māori.

At Rototuna High Schools, we have worked closely with both Iwi and Hapu in the establishing of school values, culture, programmes and approaches to learning. The work of both Principals (Fraser Hill – Rototuna Junior High School & Natasha Hemara – Rototuna Senior High School) enables strong relationships to be maintained with Iwi and Hapu, including exploring what a true partnership might look like in our context. Given all this, we are not immune to the complexities of English medium settings. What we can acknowledge, is that we need to start somewhere, and perhaps not from the stock standard ‘whitestream’ mindset.

This Semester, we introduced 6 Learning Modes into the Senior High school. The Learning Modes act as a common language model and metacognitive structure through which learning can be approached. Each Mode starts with mātauranga Māori as the foundation and attempts to build from there. While not perfect, our focus is on developing a language for learning that starts from the position of Māori, and by so doing, encourages all to better understand mātauranga Māori concepts or ideas and how these might be transformative in an educational setting. The Learning Modes are designed to permeate all aspects of learning across our curriculum model which is made up of three connected elements: Advisory, Modules and Projects.

At this point it is important to acknowledge some of the whakapapa of this work, in particular the work of Di Cavallo, Maurie Abraham and the team at Hobsonville Point Secondary School (HPSS). The HPSS Learning Design Model (LDM) has informed some of the thinking and development around the Learning Modes. The LDM, grounded in principles of design thinking, was developed out of a deep exploration of the New Zealand Curriculum and is how teachers and students describe how learning occurs. (Looking through the open doors of Hobsonville Point Secondary School – Dr Noeline Wright)

In any setting, a common language model can help to make connections, in and across learning, more ‘obvious’. Linking learning together can be achieved when everyone uses a similar frame to explain what the mode of learning is, the type of thinking required and supporting dispositions.

We expect that all learning will be signposted using the Learning Modes so that in time students will recognise, with ease, the type of thinking or ‘being’ that is required for every learning experience.

LEARNING MODES

Our six Learning Modes are: Haututu, Mahinga, Whakapapa, Kaimahi, Hui (a-tau) & Hapori.

Each of our Learning Modes is not viewed as a ‘translation’ of an English term. This is an important point. The words used to signify the modes have a unique kaupapa, depth of meaning and can be interpreted in many ways. A literal reading of the word, might yield a narrow understanding and approach, however, our intention is that the mauri (essence) of each mode guides the learning experiences.

Whilst not exclusively so, the Learning Modes tend to operate on one of two levels, Takitahi (Individual) and Kotahitanga (Collective). Some of the modes aligns more closely to each of these aspects.

Takatahi, perhaps, will resonate with most of the learning experiences for most learners. The focus is on individual mastery and development.

Kotahitanga on the other hand, can be viewed as working for a collective goals or purpose, even if you are working independently. So often in English medium settings, the collective learning experience is relegated to a once in a while ‘group’ activity. It may even be that a collective orientation to learning is seen as a way in which the individual demonstrates a capability or skill, ultimately removing the collective learning experience. This approach can negate the interconnectedness as a valid form of learning itself. For Māori, a collective orientation perhaps signifies the high importance of obligations towards, embeddedness in, and interconnectedness with whānau. (Durie, 1995; Harrington & Liu, 2002) Furthermore, the privileging of an iterative learning process, can be at the expense of more ‘repetitive’ or culturally connected practices. For Māori, repetition plays a critical role in many learning experiences – take Kapa Haka for example. Roles, rites, traditions, skills and knowledge are transferred through the art of repetition and refining. Performance is not the only, nor perhaps, the most important goal.

TAKITAHI

HAUTUTU – Curiosity, Exploration, Inquiry
Students are exploring and sense making through ‘active exploration’. Students are free to learn about the world through looking, touching, testing, playing and challenging. Haututu is about discovery learning and encourages students to build creativity and confidence at the same time as being curious, busy and active.

TŪMAHI: Play, Find, Gather, Experience, Explore, Investigate, Research, Inquire, Deconstruct, Consider, Test, Curious, Question, Observe

MAHINGA – Do, Apply, Show
Students are applying knowledge or skills by doing. Repetition is a key aspect of Mahinga and implies that learning is solidified as students repeat learning experiences and apply these to a range of contexts. Mahinga is about ‘doing the work’ of learning and showing understanding through an application of knowledge or skills.

TŪMAHI: Apply, Demonstrate, Implement, Act, Use, Test, Show, Create, Design, Understand, Process, Discuss, Analyse, Conceptualise, Prototype

WHAKAPAPA – Connect, Critical, Reflect
Students form connections and map relationships between knowledge, skills or learning. Students are encouraged to ‘link learning’ as a way to map the relationship between outcomes and experiences. Students draw on background knowledge to organise learning information and experiences.

TŪMAHI: Compare, Contrast, Evaluate, Understand, Reflect, Consider, Integrate, Interrogate, Identify, Extrapolate, Organise, Connect, Feedback

KOTAHITANGA

KAIMAHI – Roles, Responsibility, Self-Management
Students are  working individually while maintaining connection with a shared purpose or collective goal. Independence and self motivation are evident.

TŪMAHI: Demonstrate, Act, Express, Produce, Predict, Prepare, Create, Discuss, Consult, Plan, Implement, Problem Solve, Set Goals

HUI (-a-Tau) – Share, Model, Discuss
Students network and share. Students role model learning to support others to develop  deep understandings. Students will experience opportunities to mentor and support as tuakana/teina. Students gather to review, reflect or discuss learning.

TŪMAHI: Reflect, Critique, Present, Exhibit, Perform, Pitch, Report, Promote, Demonstrate, Communicate, Feedback, Feedforward, Showcase, Mentor, Support, Model

HAPORI – Group, Community, Collaborate
Students to work as a collective. Students take part in communal learning experiences and build strong learning relationships as groups. Students develop links and strengthen connectedness to community, peers and others. Learning in groups or as communities.

TŪMAHI: Integrate, Formulate, Express, Communicate, Contribute, Distribute, Deliberate, Experience, Express, Suggest, Inquire, Question, Contribute, Devise, Critique, Identify, Test, Plan

These latter three modes are particularly useful in our learning environment, where a lot of emphasis is placed on collaborative learning and practice. Learning is becoming more and more connected increasingly complex ways. Connections seem to be required in every direction. Connections between dispositions and values, discipline specific content and contexts, skills and capabilities, principles and values.

MATATAU

Part of the underlying fabric of our Learning Modes are the ideas of Matatau and Matatau Mātou, the difference being Matatau implies individual proficiency, competency or knowing. In contrast Matatau Mātou implies a collective proficiency, competency or knowing and acknowledges ako as the embodiment of learning experiences which require manaakitanga and whānaungatanga.

Founding a language for learning in mātauranga Māori can help to shift all into the ‘uncomfortable’ yet transformative spaces at the same time as providing respite for Māori learners. This approach can also act as a catalyst to promote and prompt deeper understandings about te ao Māori.

Māori culture is an ‘applied culture’, and we need to enable applied learning, not through one focus, but many interconnected things. We acknowledge that we will need to continue to develop the capacity and understanding of our students, teachers and community in this journey and recognise that bridging the divide and honoring Māori is not a simple task, particularly in English medium. Nor will it be without its critics. Ultimately, English medium settings need to change. It is not the role of Kura Kaupapa Māori, the Head of the Māori Department, the ‘school Kaumatua’ or the person who knows Māori ‘stuff’. It is our collective responsibility.

The School that Story built.

The stories that circulate in and around a school paint a picture of the school’s culture and values, heroes and enemies, good points and bad, animating the actions and intentions of leaders, teachers, students, whānau and community. By creating and sharing our stories, we define “who we are”. Our identity is intricately woven into the tapestry of the narrative.  Strong school leaders distinguish themselves by being good storytellers; voices that people listen to, are inspired by and respect.

We need stories in order to understand ourselves and communicate who we are. We use stories to help us make sense of the world and the experiences of others. By sharing stories, we can better understand the conflicts of daily life and find explanations for how things fit together in the world.

Paul Auster, once said that telling stories is the only way we can create meaning in our lives and make sense of the world.

My own learning journey has provided ample fodder through which one might understand how story can influence perceptions about learning, identity creation and identity affirmation. One thing has has been evident to me is the huge gap in our understanding of the lived realities of the kids we teach. Narrative influence how students are perceived and how they perceive themselves.

As educators, we collect copious amounts of data. In many schools, data practices are seen as Euro-centric and are rarely viewed from any other perspective. Data flows from every aspect of a child’s learning experience and plays an important role in the development of their learning story. However, data practices in many schools result in depersonalisation of information and these practices, once embedded, remain stagnant. In many instances, the challenge is centred on the notion that data, especially without meaningful patterns, is cold and with a lack of intrinsic meaning.

The problem is not with the data. The problem is with the stories. The ones we tell ourselves and our students and the stories our students figure on their own.

As a concept, storytelling permeates all cultures and is hardwired into us. We can’t help but make sense of the world through story.  Schools have yet to realise how their future might shaped by story and there is still a lack of critical insight as to how and why storytelling can make a difference. For most schools, storytelling remains an abstract concept, at best reserved for English teachers and Senior Leaders when working a crowd, at worst, wishy-washy claptrap with no real value.

For most schools, storytelling remains an abstract concept, most likely encountered in English classroom. What’s the point of telling stories anyway? What makes a good story? And how do you go about telling it so that it supports student learning? Concrete answers are few and far between.

Making storytelling more tangible is a step toward helping students, teachers and whānau further engage in Education. If stories are so fundamental to the human experience, we need to figure out how to better incorporate them into the educational landscape. The question I am left asking is how might schools turn abstract notions of storytelling into practical tools for the benefit of all? Perhaps the answer lies in the fabric of the story of each school, student, teacher and whānau. Perhaps story is the language through which learning may be explored and changed.

 

Decolonising the collection, analyses and use of student data: A tentative exploration/proposal

Well worth considering in all educational settings.

opendistanceteachingandlearning

Voices from the Global South* (*I know the term is contentious) increasingly demand to not only be recognised in the extremely uneven and skewed terrain of knowledge production and dissemination, but to actively take part and contest and reshape knowledge claims. I would like to use this blog to tentatively interrogate the potential of a decolonising lens on the collection, analyses and use of student data.

Disclaimer 1: I am intensely aware of the impact of my race and gender in thinking about student data through a decolonising lens. My race, gender and the fact that I write this blog in English should make me uncomfortable and I am. Whether my inherent complicity in notions of white superiority precludes me in taking part in the debate is for you, as reader, to decide. I constantly grapple with the intersectionalities of my gender, race and settler identity as an African. In…

View original post 1,834 more words

Data, Narratives & Indigenous Ways of Knowing – Rethinking Stories About, With and For Students

Two of my personal professional learning goals for 2016 are focused on better utilising data and accelerating Maori student achievement.

In exploring these goals, my inquiry has led me to consider that ways in which we share ‘stories’ or ‘narratives’ with our students and the impact this has on them. My spiral of inquiry is focussed on traditional Maori narratives and the potential they have to impact a students understanding of their own learning journey. Narrative is the means through which we learn from experience by reflecting upon experience, declaring what it means, and distilling it into a symbolic form to be expressed and remembered.

Narrative expression can involve a sort of critical reflection in which experience is recalled, considered, and evaluated in relation to a broader purpose. For indigenous communities narrative frameworks are about the importance of being able to tell their own story.

Traditional methods of storytelling focussed on accurately passing on knowledge, accuracy being paramount to the effective transmission of this knowledge.  For Maori, an oral history means that getting the information ‘right’ is essential for the dissemination and preservation of the story at the heart. If you don’t get it right, there is a distortion of what is or is not. The consequences of poor storytelling may have changed, but ‘getting it right’ is still an essential element when telling Maori stories today.

In a Maori context, three essential ingredients of the old forms of storytelling are the waiata – the song, whakapapa – the genealogy of the story, and the karakia – the prayer.  In a learning context these elements can provide a lens through which learner stories/narrative can be connected to indigenous ways of knowing. I am interested in exploring these concepts and the potential for them to transform the narratives we construct, with, for and about our students.

• Waiata – What is the story that is being told?
• Whakapapa – Where has the story come from?
• Karakia – What might need to happen to increase the likelihood of favourable outcomes?

Our ability to tell a learning story from a Maori audience point of view, influences the conveyance of the story associated with the information. Therefore consideration should be given to a couple of questions:

• In what ways can the currency of indigenous storytelling influence student learning outcomes?
• What impact would ‘data’ driven narratives, within indigenous narrative frameworks, have a positive impact on Maori student learning outcomes?

My inquiry is the beginning of a story about the links between indigenous narrative frameworks and (data driver) learning stories. I am interested in where it might lead.

Students Observing Students – Developing personal and academic excellence through observation

As a well established practice in the teaching community, observation has been used as both an evaluative measure and, more increasingly, a form of professional development aimed at improving teaching and learning practices.

In line with how we do peer observations and develop critical friendships, I had cause to wonder whether the same principles of observation could be applied to peer observations between students. In essence could students observing students lead to:

• students observing each other’s learning in order to learn from one another;
• a focus on students’ individual needs and an opportunity to learn from others’ learning preferences and offer constructive feedback to peers;
• the sharing of learning habits and building awareness about the impact of own learning preferences in order to affect change. (Based on ‘How to Guide’ Peer Observation for teachers)

As a starting point, our learning hub (advisory) uses a critical friendship model. Using a critical friend model enabled students to develop a working relationship with a peer and students were comfortable with supporting one another and providing feedback/feedforward.

I developed the student peer observation tool from our HPSS Critical Friend Observation Tool. The tool allows students to determine the area of focus and Hobsonville Habits (learning dispositions) they might like to focus, connected to their learning. This might include other aspects of their learning they need support in developing. Students were encouraged to consider feedback from across their learning and suggestions from their critical friend.

HPSSPeerStudentObservationTool

As a part of the observation setup, students agreed on a time for the observation and the duration. Once the terms of the observation had been agreed upon, and the observation had taken place, a follow up meeting took place for the students to consider the feedback and work on what their next steps might be.

Feedback to their peers was occasionally ‘brutally’ honest and, on the surface, was readily received. In some cases, the feedback provided would have been negatively received had it been delivered by a teacher/adult (as per the students). As a side note, we had to discuss the ‘etiquette’ of observations including letting the teacher know why they were there and sitting quietly at the back (one student, when asked, announced to the entire class that they were their to observe …!)

As a result students had the opportunity to:

• independently selecte their focus areas and developed goals for improvement
• receive direct feedback about their learning from a peer
• demonstrate that they were able to reflect on how their own learning habits might be similar or need improvement
• to identify things they could improve on
• became more aware about their learning preferences
• begin to explore how they might affect some changes in their learning.

Students responded positively and demonstrated a high level of maturity when conducting observations.

 

Hobsonville Habits – Tracking Learning Dispositions

At Hobsonville Point we believe that personal excellence and academic excellence are intricately intertwined. A part of holding high expectations is that we have a set of ‘Hobsonville Habits’ (Habits) which we use explicitly to help students engage in deeper learning and develop effective life-long learning habits.  

One aspiration of the New Zealand Curriculum (NZC) is that young people will be “confident, connected, actively involved, life-long learners.” The Hobsonville Habits have been developed as a way to actualise this mandate. As a school we aspire to create a “stimulating, inclusive learning environment which empowers learners to contribute confidently and responsibly in our changing world.” The Habits are integral in seeing our vision realised.

In ‘Dispositions: Critical Pathways for Deeper Learning’ Costa and Kallick explain that “we must all think anew about the important outcomes of education as we prepare students for a vastly different future than that we have known in the past. The first task is to identify what we believe to be the critical dispositions of deeper learning and then suggest ways to design instructional and assessment strategies intended to cultivate the growth of deeper learners over time.”

As our Habits are an attempt to unpack what it means to be a successful life-long learner they include contributive, responsive, resourceful, reflective, compassionate, adventurous, creative, curious, purposeful and resilient. In our effort to empower learners, it is necessary to consider methods for tracking and assessing the growth of these dispositions. Margaret Carr & Guy Claxton iterate that while “no single method is adequate on its own” it is necessary to develop “instruments and approaches that integrate” different assessment methods.

In an attempt to help students assess and track habit progression, I adapted a tool initially developed by Bill Lucas, Guy Claxton and Ellen Spencer. They created a framework for teachers to assess the development of young people’s creativity, and associated processes for trialling in schools. (see Progression in Creativity)

Students choose any number of Habit cards that best represent them. On each of the Habit cards are indicator statements to help students unpack what each of the Habits might look like in practice.

Habit Cards – PDF for Printing Habit Cards

Once students had chosen their cards they used the Habit Tracking Tool to ‘map’ their strengths and goals. From the centre of the tool they highlighted segments according to how they felt they exemplified their chosen habits. The scale moves from awakening (very little), accelerating (a bit), advancer (a fair bit/most times), amplifying (a lot/regularly) and adept (role model).

 

Students were required to self assess and then to consider what evidence they could produce to support their individual assessment. As a part of this process, students will regularly update their progress, supported by their learning story.

The outer ring was used by students to write down specific examples or goals for each of the habits. Some students completed all segments as an ‘overview’ of their current state. Others only completed segments they were prepared to focus on over the next few weeks.

The tracking tool is an attempt to help students unpack what the habits look like and to determine how they might be progressing with each of the dispositions. With this trial students felt comfortable at identifying their strengths and confident to identify aspects they wanted to work on. We will regularly update the Tracking Tool, providing new copies as necessary. Understanding that while “no single method is adequate on its own” it is a starting point. Used in conjunction with other tools it may help students to further develop as life-long learners, determined to achieve both personal and academic excellence.

MLEs (Marae Learning Environments) – Lessons from the Marae for Modern Learning Environments

Being culturally responsive goes beyond understanding where someone comes from. Culturally responsive teaching is a pedagogy that recognises the importance of including students’ cultural references in all aspects of learning (Ladson-Billings,1994). Being culturally responsive enable educators to develop a deeper understanding of cultural practices which, when recognised and implemented, can support both learners and school communities. In this way the true nature of ako is revealed.

“In te ao Māori, the concept of ako means both to teach and to learn. It recognises the knowledge that both teachers and learners bring to learning interactions, and it acknowledges the way that new knowledge and understandings can grow out of shared learning experiences.” (Alton-Lee, 2003).

Cultural responsiveness is a crucial part of all learning environments and leads to enhanced practices and learning outcomes. The Modern Learning Environment (MLE) is no exception. Modern learning practices move beyond the learning space and seek to challenge the traditional frames of learning. These practices are for the enhancement of learning experiences but need to be infused with robust cultural competencies. For Maori, open plan, communal learning spaces are not new. In New Zealand, and particularly for Maori, the marae is one such place. It is a place of learning, where te reo, tīkanga and kawa provide a foundation for well-being and opportunities to enhance community involvement and cohesiveness. 

Image retrieved from http://www.picton.co.nz

Consider what might occur if the ‘M’ in MLE (Modern Learning Environment) or MLP (Modern Learning Practices) is used interchangeably with a ‘M’ for Marae. A ‘Marae Learning Environment’ is a place anchored by distinct principles and practices (‘Marae Learning Practices’). The Marae Learning Environment acts as a focal point in the community and enables traditions and customs to be strengthened and values to be fully expressed. Understanding marae learning practices can offer insight and cultural references that may assist in developing cultural capital.

Marae Learning Practices	Modern Learning Practices
The marae is the place where values and philosophy are reaffirmed.	The school is the place where values and philosophy are reaffirmed. “Every decision relating to curriculum and every interaction that takes place in a school reflects the values of the individuals involved and the collective values of the institution.” NZC @HPSS this looks like personalised learning, powerful partnerships, deep challenge and inquiry, excellence, collaboration, connectedness, inquiry and innovation.
The marae is socially integrative in that it fosters identity, self-respect, pride and social control.	The school is a place which enables transformational future-focused teaching and learning, rethinking ideas about learning. @HPSS this looks like a dispositional curriculum (Hobsonville Habits), mixed year levels, learning hubs, co-created learning and learning projects.
The marae is integrative in that all people are welcome.	The school is a place for innovative teaching and learning practices that can be embedded through all levels of school which prepares every student with the kind of learning they need to meet the demands of the future. @HPSS this looks like personalised learning, differentiation, student voice, learning design, curriculum development, common language, student agency, visible learning, learning to learn, collaboration and community engagement.
The marae is a place where we enter an encounter situation, where challenges are met and issues are debated.	The school is a place which is future-focussed, with current and emerging technologies, creating opportunities to increase learner motivation, engagement and achievement. @HPSS this looks like teaching as inquiry, critical friendships, warm and demanding, Individual Education Meetings, reflective practice and restorative practice.
The marae serves as the focal point for community sentiment.	The school is visible and community centred. It emerges as a place which reflects the diverse community of learners and their whanau. @HPSS this looks like consultation, parent workshops, project learning,  community consultation and HPSS Pollinator.
The marae is a place where young children have free reign. They are valued members as indeed everyone is. Children belong to the marae and are important. All adults are parents to these children and it is the responsibility of the closest adults to care for them.	The school develops effective partnerships with parents, whānau, and communities. They focus on quality relationships and engagement, having a positive impact on students’ learning. @HPSS this looks like staff children belonging and participating, whanau, hubs and family.
The marae is a place where teenagers have free reign and they learn by experience. However they are expected work and look after others. They move from someone who has total freedom to the apprentice, preparing for the role of elder.	The school ensures the student is at the centre of all it does. It provides support for learners that is respectful of, and responsive to, individual learner preferences, needs, and values. The school provides greater opportunities for students to organise themselves and engage in learning. The shift is from a one-size-fits-all solution to flexible approaches that can be customised and adjusted for individual needs. @HPSS this looks like student voice, module selection, co-teaching, integrated learning, student council, digital citizenship, assessment for learning, guidance, coaches, e-portfolios, FloorTime, academic excellence and personal excellence.
The marae is a place where the adults are the workers.	The school is a place where teachers systematically and critically engage with professional development about curriculum content and pedagogy and use this to inform professional practice. They articulate the aims of teaching and professional development and the reasons for adopting these aims. The school encourages teachers to contribute to the development of an open and reflective professional culture by professionally generating and responding to feedback from members to their learning community. Teachers take responsibility for connecting online and face to face in an ethical and digitally appropriate manner to facilitate and enhance professional learning. @HPSS this looks like reflective practice, teaching as inquiry, critical friendships, critical thinking, PTC, professional learning, differentiated professional learning, appraisal, observation, curriculum mapping, assessment, reporting and teacher portfolio.
The marae is a place where the mana of the elders is expansive. They are revered by the not-so-old because of their wisdom through experience, their wise counsel, their expertise and their guidance in all things pertaining to the marae and to life in general. Their role is to “front” the marae, welcome the visitors, ensure that the kawa (procedure) is strictly adhered to and generally or specifically pass on their knowledge to the young.	The school is a place where senior leaders have a sense of moral purpose and a commitment to improved learning and social outcomes. The focus is not just about supporting and guiding students, it’s also about a commitment to the professional growth and support of other school leaders and teachers. @HPSS this looks like Monday’s with Maurie, learning relationships, learning design, enabling learning, SLT observations, SLT walkthroughs, warm and demanding, deep challenge, inquiry and professional learning.