Inheriting the sacred jawbone: Indigenous re-imaginings of education.
Dr Maia Hetaraka interrogates Western education and its history through an indigenous lens in her new book.
How has the Western education system for Māori impacted Māori, and how does it continue to do so?
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This is one of the questions Dr Maia Hetaraka (Ngāti Wai, Ngāi Tahu, Ngā Puhi, Ngāti Paoa) explores in her book Te kauae tuku iho | Inheriting the sacred jawbone: indigenous knowledge holders re-imagine education. In this work, Hetaraka investigates the landscape of Western education for Māori through examining historical policy, and centring Māori perspectives and experiences of the education system.
Dr Hetaraka is currently a lecturer and director of the Faculty of Education and Social work at Waipapa Taumata Rau | University of Auckland’s Te Papa Ako o te Tai Tokerau | Te Tai Tokerau campus.
Her research centres Māori and indigenous knowledge and approaches to move toward justice in education, pedagogy and policy. With a background in primary school teaching, Hetaraka is interested in positive teaching practises and unlocking access to success for ākonga.
In the following Q&A, Dr Hetaraka expands on the unique exploration of the intersection of personal experience and policy in the book, stories from the history of indigenous education in New Zealand that have stayed with her, and her hopes for the future of education in Aotearoa.
In your own words, tell us a little about your new book, Te kauae tuku iho | Inheriting the sacred jawbone: Indigenous knowledge holders re-imagine education.
This book is about the history of Western education for Māori from a Māori perspective. It honours Māori knowledge and experiences of education, both traditional Māori education and Western schooling. The book is somewhat unique because it is about education, history, laws, personal experiences and colonisation.
What inspired you to write Te kauae tuku iho?
The book is based on my doctoral thesis, the inspiration to write both the thesis and the book was my exposure to powerful tūpuna stories and the hope that schooling might be transformed for my children and grandchildren.
Could you give us a brief overview of the policies you explore in your book – how have they shaped the story of indigenous education in Aotearoa New Zealand?
I investigated the Ka Hikitia strategy for Māori education, and a specific policy document called Tātaiako, Cultural Competencies for Teachers of Māori Learners. I also looked at a number of historical education laws. It is interesting to think of how these policies, and indeed all education policies and laws have impacted the story of Māori education for a number of reasons. One is that, until recently policies for Indigenous education were not written by the Indigenous people for whom they were intended.
Your book explores multiple perspectives and viewpoints. Was there one perspective or view that surprised or challenged you?
A couple of the key viewpoints that standout to me were the narratives of tūpuna from the North that highlight the powerful actions of our Rangatira before, during and following the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. Their actions and perspectives were so strong that they give our elders today the motivation and strength to continue to teach our mātauranga, tikanga and practices. Another perspective that emerged which surprised me was the expectation our elders have of educators today to love our tamariki-mokopuna, and to love themselves. I hadn’t come across this in education research but it came through strongly that Māori experiences of education could be greatly transformed if educators loved our children, and loved themselves as educators and as human beings. This was linked to the confidence educators have in themselves and in their knowledge of their own cultures – when we are confident and happy in ourselves, we are less likely to feel anxiety or fear of diverse cultures and people, it is often teachers’ anxieties and fears that tend to cause the most issues for whānau Māori.
In writing and researching the book, is there a story that has stuck with you? Why?
This question is hard to answer. There are lots of stories that have stuck with me. Perhaps one story is the story of the dual purposes of Western schooling that existed in Aotearoa for nearly 100 years. There was one type of schooling intended for settler children, which was academic, and another intended for Māori children, which was limited and limiting. We don’t acknowledge this fact, it seems we don’t like to remember things that make us uncomfortable. Generations of Māori and Pākehā lives were shaped unequally by this dual system and because we feel uncomfortable talking about it, we forget this history and grapple with trying to understand why the current system continues to disadvantage Māori. Perhaps if we own our history we will be able to find innovative solutions rather than repeating our mistakes.
How have recent policies and reform under the past few governments impacted on Māori education? How do they fit into the wider history of Māori education?
The story of Indigenous education has been shaped by policies over the years that first sought to colonise, then to assimilate, then to include Māori. We were on the brink of realising education policy (through the Labour-led refreshed New Zealand Curriculum) that was more aligned with the terms of a partnership, this has all been erased in the past 12 months. Education policy has never been Māori-centric, it has never favoured Māori worldviews or practices and in terms of policy we now, as a nation, have been abruptly reverted back to where we were 60 years ago.
Given what you have learned from the research for Te kauae tuku iho, what policy direction would you like to see to move toward “a more inclusive and truthful national curriculum”?
I think to another key message of the elders involved in this research, that we need change in hearts and minds. In the current political climate I think this sentiment is even more important. Policy is reverting at a great rate of knots back to the flawed ideas of equality, “fairness” and one law for all, all of which only work when everybody starts at the same starting point, which is not true of NZ society. I have little hope in policy right now but I do have hope in the hearts and minds of people who work in education who genuinely want students to succeed. These people are the ones who will make a difference to how our young people experience education. The hearts and minds of brilliant educators will ensure the current curriculum is delivered in ways that are truthful and relevant to the lives of young people.
How has researching and writing this book changed how you view education in Aotearoa NZ, if at all?
Before engaging in this research I knew there were flaws in the education system. I had an interesting relationship with education – from the time I was very young I felt like school didn’t like me very much, but I also did well at school. I often felt “ripped off” by what I had to learn at school, but I did it anyway and kept at it even after my compulsory schooling years were over. This research really helped me to see and name those things in education, and in our wider socio-political context, that felt wrong. There is something powerful in being able to name injustices, when you bring them to light they no longer hold as much weight and you can begin to dismantle them.
Who is this book for, and what can readers expect?
This book is for education professionals, it is for researchers, it is for people who are interested in history and narrative, it is for Māori communities, and most of all I want it to be for our children and grandchildren. Somebody told me that the book packs a punch, that you are happily reading then suddenly it punches you in the face! I don’t want it to hurt people but I have tried to be honest about the injustices we still face in Aotearoa.
