ebook_Promising Practices in Indigenous Teacher Education by Paul Whitinui,Carmen Rodriguez de France,Onowa McIvor (eds.) (z-lib.org)

238 K. Lewis et al.

to all children. The foremost demand is still for education in our Indigenous lan-
guages (Makokis, 2010). Today this need for language programming, teacher
training, curriculum and resource development is also reflected in the TRC’s Calls
to Action.1

United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) in
2008 outlines the importance of supporting Indigenous language initiatives that is
echoed again in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC) Calls
to Action in 2015. Specifically, the following articles:

1. Article 14.i states that ‘Aboriginal languages are a fundamental and valued ele-
ment of Canadian culture and society, and there is an urgency to preserve them’.

2. Article 45.ii necessitates an adoption and implementation of the UNDRIP,
which also includes specific recognition of the right to revitalize and transmit
Aboriginal languages.

3. Article 13:1 recognizes that ‘Indigenous peoples have the right to revitalize,
use, develop and transmit to future generations their histories, languages, oral
traditions, philosophies, writing systems and literatures ...’.

4. Article 14:3 declares that ‘States shall, in conjunction with indigenous peoples,
take effective measures, in order for indigenous individuals, particularly chil-
dren, including those living outside their communities, to have access, when
possible, to an education in their own culture and provided in their own lan-
guage’ (TRC, 2015).

Long before The UNDRIP, and the TRC Calls to Action, UnBQ has been
working to revitalize, promote and respond to the language needs of its owner
communities, as a high school, a college and now as a university. University nuhe-
lot’˛ine thaiyots’˛i nistameyimâkanak Blue Quills is an independent indigenous
institution owned, governed and operated by seven First Nations in the Treaty 6
Territory, representing approximately 18,836 people include Beaver Lake, Cold
Lake, Frog Lake, Heart Lake, Kehewin, Saddle Lake and Whitefish Lake.

Throughout its history, and from its earlier origins as an Indian Residential
School (IRS) to its present incarnation as a university, UnBQ has served the edu-
cational needs of the First Nations communities. In 1898, Chief Blue Quills2 peti-
tioned the Oblates to move the Sacred Heart Mission School to Saddle Lake
where it was renamed Blue Quills School (BQS) so that children could attend a
school nearby to the community. In 1970, when the IRS was in the process of
closing down, the people of Saddle Lake and Athabasca district lobbied the gov-
ernment to take control of the school; and subsequently in 1971 BQS became the
first school to be managed and operated by First Nations. First Nations commu-
nities in this area believed in their Indigenous rights, and capacity to control their
own education. Initially, BQS taught grades 4–9 and in 1974, ‘[i]n conjunction
with the Alberta Curriculum Development Branch, developed language books,

1TRC (2015) Article 10 i-vii.
2Seepeehkowaaokanam was the Chief known as Blue Quills, alternate spelling is sîpihtakanêp.

17 Looking at the Evolution of University of Nuhelot’ine Thaiyots’I Nistamêyimâkanak … 239

teacher’s guides, student texts and exercise material in the Cree language’ (Blue
Quills First Nations College, 2002). This responsibility fell to the late Roseanna
Houle, who led a team of Cree language curriculum team to produce the curricu-
lum Cree 15, 25, 35 for high school Grades 10, 11 and 12.

When our seven owner Nations built their own elementary schools, Blue Quills
became a High School (BQHS) providing only grades 9–12. It was during this
period that BQHS was mandated to deliver teacher training and in 1975, the
Morning Star Project was initiated where the first two years of an education degree
were delivered at BQHS. It was also during this period that BQHS was contracted
by the University of Alberta (U of A) to assist in the development of their univer-
sity level Cree courses. The late Emily Hunter who received her training in Cree
grammar and teaching Cree as a second language at BQHS went on to work with
the U of A to help build their capacity in teaching Cree.

In 1991, BQHS became Blue Quills First Nations College (BQFNC) through the
will of the seven Chiefs of our owner Nations. The educational needs of the com-
munities now went beyond high school, and BQFNC moved into providing post-
secondary programming along with vocational training. Initially BQFNC brokered
the course it helped develop for the U of A, however since 2011–2012, it has been
offering its own post-secondary courses and programs in the Cree language such as
the Bachelor of Arts in Cree and the Masters in Indigenous Languages.

Carl Quinn, the Board Chairman in 1994, stated ‘[w]hen I walk into BQFNC, I
want to know it’s an Indian School. I want to be able to smell the sweet grass. I
want to hear the language spoken, the drums and the songs. I want to see pictures
on the walls representing who we are’. Promoting BQFNC to increase embedding
Indigenous perspectives in all programs such as the Leadership and Management
program and the Doctoral program. In 2011, BQFNC graduated four students with
a Doctorate in iyiniw pimâtisiwin kiskêyitamowin (ipkDoc). The following year,
in the 2012 Annual General Meeting, the community mandated the college to
initiate attainment of university status and in 2015, BQFNC became University of
nuhelot’ine thaiyots’i nistamêyimâkanak Blue Quills (UnBQ).

Situated in Treaty 6 Territory, near the town of St. Paul, Alberta, UnBQ is
Canada’s first independent Indigenous controlled education centre. UnBQ celebrates
over 40 years of providing quality education and is governed by appointed Board
members, who represent the seven local First Nations communities. Providing qual-
ity education for our Indigenous teachers, social workers and leaders requires sup-
port at national levels and to that end UnBQ participated and was instrumental in
the development of the First Nations Higher Education Consortium (FNAHEC), the
National Association of Indigenous Institutes of Higher Learning (NAIIHL) and the
National Indigenous Accreditation Board (NIAB).

UnBQ serves the academic and training needs of people, of all cultures,
encouraging learners to experience studying in a unique cultural and academic
environment. Students can participate in any of the University’s over 30 certifi-
cate, diploma, degree or graduate programs offered across various areas of study.
UnBQ advances and protects Indigenous forms of life and thinking through
research, teaching and community service. Research is conducted by, and with

240 K. Lewis et al.

their communities, respecting traditional protocols, ethics, and relationships, and
contributing directly to the lives of people.

Allowing Healing and Integrating Ceremony

The status of the Cree language in the 1970s was such that Cree was still widely spo-
ken in all communities. It was heard at meetings, events and gatherings, as most
adults at the time were fluent speakers. Within the next three decades, this all chan-
ged. English became the dominant language as many of those young people who
were young adults in the 1970s lost their fluency. Today, parents and grandparents
are unable to transmit the language to their children and grandchildren. As a result,
the predominant language spoken at meetings, events and gatherings now is English.

Although there was a movement to teach Cree in primary, secondary and ter-
tiary educational systems, this did not seem to make any significant impact in
stemming the tide of language loss. Some believe that it stemmed from a lack of
funding for both resources and for teacher training. In 2006, UnBQ (then
BQFNC), undertook a project to identify the best methodology for adult language
learning (Makokis, 2010) and this study clearly identified the trauma resulting
from the effects of colonization as a barrier to language learning:

… loss of language is related to some traumatic event—being punished for speaking our
language, being told by those we love not to use our language, being ridiculed for our
accents, being separated from our families and communities, being singled out in public
schools, our parents and grandparents not sharing the gift of language with us because of
the punishment or embarrassment they experienced. (p. 30)

It is therefore essential that healing be a component of language learning pro-
grams for First Nations people. Healing is initiated in a couple ways: one, the
inclusion of ceremony and cultural protocols in language programming; secondly,
encouraging and building an understanding of wahkohtowin, which is relationship
and relatedness. Students are hungry for an understanding of how the language
expresses their relationships not only with themselves but also with their immedi-
ate and extended family. Familial relationships and obligations change when you
speak Cree. Some cousins become your sisters and brothers; some aunties are
your little mothers; some nieces and nephews are your sons and daughters. This
helps us to define our place in within our communities.

We understand first-hand the need for support and space for students to deal
with the trauma that resulted from their incarceration or their parents’ incarceration
in IRS. We take time to deal with issues triggered within the classroom and this
takes precedence if language learning is to occur. We have had experiences where
a student elected to remain in school after experiencing multiple deaths in her
family. The classroom became her family and in the language learning environ-
ment she is supported with no expectation to produce or perform but simply to lis-
ten, absorb and heal; this is linked to the concept of wahkohtowin.

The original courses offered at UnBQ included grammar, song and scenarios
using drama, immersion camps and small projects. As the program evolved, there

17 Looking at the Evolution of University of Nuhelot’ine Thaiyots’I Nistamêyimâkanak … 241

was an increase in cultural activities around language, which proved successful.
Ceremony has always been a part of the program and continues to be the founda-
tion of the programs and university’s success. Ceremony creates safety and there
is a need to create a safe place, a place where people feel comfortable speaking
the language. There is a lot of risk-taking involved in learning to speak another
language. UnBQ has smudge bowls3 in almost every room where both instructors
and students are free to use our plants and prayers. Part of the UnBQ campus is a
formal IRS and has been an obstacle for some but also a form of healing from the
trauma suffered in this building. Spirituality plays a foundational role as our lan-
guage is a gift from the Creator and this has not hindered us as an academic insti-
tution. Rather, our instruction has improved; wahkohtowin is strengthened as we
share our common history, and participate in the events, and ceremonies. There
are ceremonial grounds on-campus, which are used actively by both staff and stu-
dents. Traditional Indigenous Knowledge is a pillar.

During this process of developing and delivering the Cree Language Program,
nêhiyaw terminology emerged to describe research concepts. Use of this terminol-
ogy in the delivery of our courses has assisted in the success of these classes. The
classes go beyond land-based learning; they also are about healing the fabric of
our communities and reinstating our knowledge transfer systems. This process has
also demonstrated that we have our own nêhiyaw research paradigms. For exam-
ple, kîskisamâkêwin (the action of cutting tobacco) is the initiation of Cree metho-
dology for researching. This is the first part, by invitation, to start this knowledge
transfer and to develop a relationship with the knowledge keepers and/or Elders.
cistêmâw (tobacco) is to walk ahead, therefore offered first, along with wîpinâson
(prayer cloth/willows). An honorarium is at times offered to presenters depending
on time and topics. We need to build trust by following these protocols.
nâhcinihkêwin is the transferring of knowledge. oskâpêwisak (Elders’ helpers),
ospwâkaniw-iyiniw (pipe man), nâpêwak (men), iskwêwak (women) and kêhtê-
ayak (Elders) are all approached for their teachings. In this way the communities
determine how iyiniw kiskêyihtamowin, gained during this research, will be docu-
mented. Documentation of iyiniw kiskêyihtamowin often varies from family-to-
family, community-to-community and between individuals. These differences
have been respected throughout the research. Participants both institutions and
individuals have also given cistêmâw and wîpinâson for their participation.

Re-Establishing Elders, Land-Based Curriculum and
Community Involvement

UnBQ currently has a Research Ethics Policy, which is from an Indigenous per-
spective. ‘To fully comprehend the ethics environment, researchers must commit
to relationships, ceremony and protocol within the institutions and community

3Smudge bowls are used locally for prayers and cleansing. Sweatgrass and sages are picked,
dried and lit to create the smoke and the bowls contain the ambers of these plants.

242 K. Lewis et al.

which will provide the interpretations. The academy has come to our lands, and
now it is time to teach the academy how to be in our lands’. (Blue Quills First
Nations College, 2009, p. 1) Makokis (2010) states, ‘In Indigenous communities
we don’t do things alone. We do things in relationship, in wahkohtowin. We
involve kêhtê-ayak, our Elders, and the knowledge travels the circle’ (p. 2). One
of the major effects of the IRS era that requires healing is the reinstatement of
Elders back into the fabric of our educational process. This is especially crucial
for the revitalization of our languages. Today many Elders feel destitute because
they cannot communicate to their grandchildren in their mother tongue. This is
indeed a loss as Elders with their accumulated lived experiences are unable to
transmit this knowledge to their grandchildren.

Elders are an important part of the delivery in the language programme.
They are the assigned resources in language classrooms. Students get to hear
the correct pronunciation, have gentle corrections and opportunities to hear
more in-depth understanding of Cree words. Since the inception of the Bachelor
of Arts in Cree, the program has worked to develop an Elders body. This body
of Elders assist in guiding the language program at UnBQ and in the commu-
nities, we serve. In 2014, the Elders body was formalized into the Elders Senate
guiding not only UnBQ’s Language program but also the work we do around
ceremony.

UnBQ strongly believe that we must honour our own knowledge repositories
in developing curriculum for our Indigenous communities. In 2015–2016, the
Indigenous Programme initiated the development of a Bachelor of Arts in
Denesu˛ł˛ine, and believed that it was crucial that the Cold Lake (łue chogh túé)
Elders be involved. An Elders committee was developed to assist in supporting
the process of building the BA in Denesu˛ł˛ine. The Cold Lake (łue chogh túé)
Elders committee spoke of four main foci when delivering the courses, they are:
History of the Denesu˛ł˛ine, Post-trauma of the Government Sanctioned Institutes
(Colonization to Revitalization), Genealogy, and the Denesu˛ł˛ine Language and
Culture Epistemologies and Pedagogies. Keeping their vision in mind, the four
main foci have been included in the Denesu˛ł˛ine curriculum development, which
will be launched in the fall of 2016. This is an exciting time for all the Dene on
Turtle Island.

There is a need to move away from seeing only the teacher as the sole source
of educator in our communities; we need to make the space available for our
knowledge keepers and our ceremonialists. We also need to support language
initiatives of our communities because these solutions and best practices are more
successful than solutions that are imposed from outside the community. To this
end, the university has supported: community language conferences by providing
speakers, resource people and volunteer support; professional development (PD)
for language teachers; and the development of language resources. This also is
wahkotowin.

Wahkohtowin is a term used to explain kinship in Cree paradigm. This is used
to connect our language learners to family terms such as father, mother, grand-
mother, grandfather, siblings, cousins and other close relatives. The terms start

17 Looking at the Evolution of University of Nuhelot’ine Thaiyots’I Nistamêyimâkanak … 243

with immediate family however research by both faculty and students recognized
that it needed to go further than the nuclear family and even beyond the extended
family. It took us to understanding wahkohtowin as community. Truly understand-
ing the term wahkohtowin eventually took the language program outside and to
the creation story. Our understanding of wahkohtowin expanded, re-establishing
our relationship with everything else. For example, mâmawi-ohkâwîmâw4 is trans-
lated to the mother of everything. This is the term we use for the Earth. She is
alive and she is animate and is a part of our Creation story. She is responsible for
childrearing and the laws of growth. The first term gives us the proper relationship
and all she provides for us.

A natural progression to land-based courses began with tanning hides in the
fall months, harvesting medicines and initiating a mapping project in the harvest-
ing process. In the winter months we returned inside with task-based activities
such as processing fish and meat for food, learning how to quillwork or fish scale
art, how to bead and other types of Indigenous art. âtayôhkêwina5 (sacred stories)
are also shared during the winter months and there are a number of stories also
shared from Wisdom of the Cree in Canada: A book of healing for the human
heart (Chumak, 1994). During these land-based activities, by working with
Elders, our language expanded around these activities and we developed a deeper
understanding of the concept of interconnectedness to everything such as grand-
father sun, grandmother moon and all her teachings, the four-legged creatures and
the flyers. These relations are all addressed as kimosôminawak (Grandmothers)
and kohkominawak (Grandmothers). Our kinship terms also connect us to grand-
father rock, grandfather wind and grandmother spirits, along with other elements
of Creation. Our language research and revitalization reminded us of these rela-
tionships and to keep them active.

Culture Camps are the way we have incorporated ceremony, land-based learn-
ing and Elders leading as teachers. The camps are offered throughout the year as
weeklong block courses. Students have the opportunity to be as involved as they
wish in ceremonies or the teachings that are occurring during this time. In this
way, the university provides an opportunity for traditional knowledge keepers to
be involved in the academic environment it is an opportunity to place our episte-
mology in the forefront. This is also a part of our healing as a community, where
we are openly engaging in ceremonies that once were banned, reacquainting some
of our students with this aspect of their culture that they have not had the opportu-
nity of participating in because of the disruption caused by the Government of
Canada and the churches.

In addition to involvement in these community efforts UnBQ has also had the
opportunity of building a relationship and support the work of kâniyâsihk Culture
Camps where courses are delivered on the shores of Ministikwan Lake, SK.

4Also referred to as kikâwînaw askiy (Mother Earth).
5Further literature can be found from Shirt, Lewis, and Jackson (2012).

244 K. Lewis et al.

Community members from Ministikwan Lake Cree Nation were witnessing the
assimilation and integration of colonial curriculum within their communities and it
was evident to them that their knowledge was declining alarmingly. They recog-
nized that their children, youth and parents were suffering from this foreign episte-
mology. Their traditional skills along with their ceremonies were in jeopardy.

From these camps, language teachers have emerged that know the ceremonial
and spiritual teachings because they are now learning straight from the ceremonial
holders. They are the language and cultural knowledge holders, who rather than
pursuing a Western education, acquired their training through the Cree ceremonial
circuits of round dances, sweat lodges, ghost dances; to only name a few.
Thematic Camps such as Traditional Parenting Workshops, Hide Tanning
Workshops, Birch Back Canoe Building and Medicine Camps have emerged from
the work of kâniyâsihk Culture Camps.

In this land-based, cultural camp style education system the classrooms are
replaced by what they call ‘stations’. Examples of the stations are duck plucking,
fish filleting, hide tanning and more. The camps have evolved to follow seasonal
activities for example winter activities include snowshoeing, ice fishing and dog
sledding. This has been a learning process for ceremonially educated teachers as
well as Western educated teachers; even the Elders have gone through a learning
process of teaching groups rather than one or two grandchildren. Again, the Elders
are crucial in supporting and guiding in these camps processes. What we have
gained from these camps is the realization that the present system of education is
failing our children in gaining a strong grounding in mainstream education as well
as moving us away from being able to survive in our present environment. Our
children are losing the skills to garden, harvest in forest, to hunt and preserve
food; we no longer have our traditional knowledge of medicine; or access to tradi-
tional technologies. In fact, in some cases we can no longer afford what was once
common in our lives such as building snow shoes, canoes, tanning hides and dog
sledding. Many of these technologies are now beyond our affordability or knowl-
edge. By hosting these workshops, we are taking back our knowledge systems to
becoming common knowledge systems.

Teacher Education Programs and the Structure of the Language

Cree language courses were originally taught to a mixed classroom of fluent and
non-fluent speakers. There were successes in this type of classroom however the
need for a Teaching Certificate in Cree emerged as the surrounding communities
expressed urgency for greater quality teaching. At the same time, there was also a
growing population of students expressing a desire to learn Cree so UnBQ
responded by developing a BA in Cree with a fluent and non-fluent stream.

Once again, the Indigenous Programme is currently under internal review for
the purpose of strategically aligning with surrounding communities in terms of
language revitalization needs. With the amount of growth within the department,

17 Looking at the Evolution of University of Nuhelot’ine Thaiyots’I Nistamêyimâkanak … 245

this step is now essential. The following programs are now being researched and
reviewed:

1. Bachelor’s of Arts—fluent and non-fluent strands6
2. Bachelor’s of Education—all in Cree
3. Bachelor’s of Education—Cree Language Immersion
4. Post Graduate Diploma—being explored

Currently, UnBQ staff and faculty are working with Onion Lake Cree Immersion
Teachers to look at their needs and to learn about their experiences. They are only
two Cree Immersion schools in Western Canada. The other Immersion school is in
Opaskwayak Cree Nation, MB. Both schools are willing to work with our program-
ming in developing teachers that specialize in Cree Language Immersion instruction.

Engaging current teachers keeps our research team up to date and plays an
important supportive role to ensure these schools succeed. There are still teachers
that are teaching Cree in Alberta who are not fluent. There are a lot of teachers at
conferences, actively wanting PD in teaching the Cree language. We have devel-
oped and delivered numerous Cree courses within our university and are now
developing Dene courses. In our consultations with our Elder’s Senate, our Chief
and Councils, and our community Elders, we were mandated to give our teachers
tools to instruct our language and culture from an Indigenous perspective. With
the amount of growth we have as an institution in the area of curriculum develop-
ment, language and cultural instruction and continued research, this is the time to
work with the province to accredit our B.Ed. program all in Cree.7 There needed
to be a good hard look at how our languages are taught to our own people.

There are still to this day language teachers teaching vocabulary, colours and
numbers. Very few of our schools are teaching communicative language learning
where students come out conversing in our Indigenous languages. Our language
needs and wants are not being reflected in most schools. The teachers that have
engaged our researchers state that they still go from classroom to classroom and
are only given very short periods to teach their lessons—commonly known as
‘language as subject’ teaching. Arguably not enough time to engage anyone learn-
ing a second language. Data shows that for our youth, Cree is now a second lan-
guage (Shirt, 2007). Students entering the school are mostly monolingual with
English being their first language. This language shift did not take long in our
region and the language teacher now needs new methodologies because the lan-
guage at home is also English-only. There are very few Cree speaking homes in
our region. This is a huge obstacle that needs to be looked at further. There have

6The Bachelor of Arts in Cree Language Program focuses on developing the student’s level of
fluency and comprehension in nêhiyawêwin. The non-fluent first year students are required to
attend 4 days of immersion instruction and assessment will be based on oral proficiency. The flu-
ent first year students program will have a stronger emphasis on understanding of Cree grammar
and second language acquisition methodologies.
7The current B.Ed. at UnBQ is taught all in English. We are proposing to teach the B.Ed. all in
Cree such as the French do in Manitoba and in Alberta.

246 K. Lewis et al.

been several attempts at trying to promote that language at home and students at
UnBQ are now seeing small successes of this with the growing fluency of the stu-
dents in the B.A. program. There are stories where the students now impress their
own families by praying for their food or singing for our Nations.

Like most mainstream post-secondary institutions, UnBQ’s language classes
were linguistically based where students were conjugating our words but not creat-
ing functional fluency in Cree. This has changed as our understanding of what
works grows. Our goal is to create teachers that are experts at second language
teaching methodologies and experts in understanding the nature of the Cree gram-
mar from a Cree perspective rather than from a linguistic perspective. Our graduates
are now starting to see the fruits of these methodologies and this understanding.

We have been, for the past four decades, researching and teaching the language
from the perspective of an isolating language such as English rather than focusing
on how would we teach a polysynthetic language. Teaching Cree as you would teach
English has not produced speakers. Cree is a polysynthetic language, which simply
means that there are a lot of word sentences. These word sentences have several
meanings and pushed together creates one word with many meanings. In many
instances when we create immersion schools, we translate English curriculum, which
leaves us with a very strong focus on nouns. This is not taking into account the poly-
synthetic and verb-based nature of Cree. There are a lot of options to teach the lan-
guage. With all these options, this is where the mixed-methodologies is able to
shine, demonstrating the success of this approach.

In 2011, when UnBQ first delivered the Bachelor of Arts program in Cree, a
core immersion-based class was offered based on the ‘root word method’ devel-
oped by Brian Maracle in which he used to teach Mohawk. Basically, he identified
common roots morphemes and then created exercises, which taught students how
to combine these roots into words and then how to attach inflectional morphemes.
In this manner, students were taught to create words and then how to put these
words together into sentences. With his format, some of his students had an
impressive level of functional fluency in six months.

Understanding the meaning of the morphemes in Cree words assists students in
developing a greater understanding of the word rather than just the simple transla-
tion. Understanding roots allows us to understand our own history, and Cree
mind. As McIvor and Napoleon (2009) write, ‘learning a language is essentially a
way of getting intimate with the soul of a culture’ (p. 18). In terms of specific
methodologies, Makokis’s (2010) research identified a vast majority of common
second language acquisition methodologies however ‘there was a clear message
that the language is best learned through immersion, land-based activities, cere-
mony, song and story’ (p. 36).

Conclusion

There are local schools such as Ashmont, AB, St. Paul, AB, and surrounding
town schools that have a high population of Aboriginal students. These schools
continue to teach an outdated curriculum of Cree that has been ineffective that

17 Looking at the Evolution of University of Nuhelot’ine Thaiyots’I Nistamêyimâkanak … 247

will not assist in the revitalization of our Indigenous languages at the level that is
needed. UnBQ has taken action and is developing and delivering the Bachelor and
Master level Cree language programs. The Elders Senate also assists and is an
authoritative voice here at UnBQ in addressing Cree/Dene issues in a way which
maintains our cultural integrity. ‘We need to maintain the sovereignty of our lan-
guage. We are simply taking responsibility of our language’ is one quote shared
by one of our program leads. We accredit our own languages even though we
struggle to get dollars for programming. UnBQ strives to provide teaching that
honours the person, seeking to balance traditional knowledge with contemporary
literature to support learners and communities in achieving their goals.

The other post-secondary institutions receive core funding from the federal and
provincial governments annually. This is not so for UnBQ and yet provide quali-
fied human resources into the labour market. Imagine what First Nation post-
secondary institutions like UnBQ could achieve if they received core funding like
their provincial contemporaries. Like on-reserve K to 12 Schools, First Nation
post-secondary institutions suffer from inadequate funding yet continue to provide
service to their communities, to the provincial school authorities and to main-
stream provincial post-secondary institutions in the areas of language, culture and
history in particular residential school trauma. UnBQ has assisted in language-
related initiatives, immersion schools, resource and curriculum development, data
collection language surveys and language conferences.

‘Certifying our own people by our own experts’ brings pride to our nations. We
need to remember that these languages were given to us by the Creator to use and
to maintain that is our responsibility: it is a collective responsibility. Without the
collective, we break our own laws of wicihtowin (helping each other) and
wahkohtowin.

The work of healing our trauma must come from the community and be led by
our communities, if it is to be successful. The road to hell, as they say, is paved, with
good intentions and we must respectfully ask our mainstream post-secondary institu-
tions to allow us the dignity and opportunity to find those solutions ourselves.
Should we find ourselves in a position to require help, we will ask.

Glossary of Nêhiyawêwin and Denesu˛ ł˛ine Terms

cistêmâw the sacred tobacco plant
Denesu˛ ł˛ine the Dene people
iskwêwak women
iyiniw First Nations person, Indian; person, man
iyiniw kiskêyihtamowin original understandings/knowledge
kêhtê-ayak Elders
kîskisamâkêwin the action of cutting tobacco
łue chogh túé Cold Lake, AB
miyo-pimâtisiwin good behaviour, good life
nâhcinihkêwin is the transferring of men
knowledge nâpêwak

248 K. Lewis et al.

nêhiyaw Cree, Cree man, Cree Indian, Indian
nistamêyimâkanak Cree ancestors
Nuhelot’ine Thaiyots’I Dene ancestors
oskâpêwisak Elders’ helpers
ospwâkaniw-iyiniw pipe man
wahkohtowin which is relationship and relatedness
wicihtowin helping each other
wîpinâson prayer cloth/willows

References

Blue Quills First Nations College (2002). Pimohteskanaw, 1971-2001: Blue Quills First Nations
College. St. Paul: Author.

Blue Quills First Nations College (2009). Blue Quills First Nations College research ethics pol-
icy. St. Paul: Author.

Chumak, S. (1994). Wisdom of the Cree in Canada: a book of healing for the human heart.
Calgary: The Alberta Foundation.

Makokis, L. (2010). Mâmawi-nehiyaw iyinikahiwêwin. [Unpublished manuscript]. Blue Quills
First Nations College, St. Paul: Author

McIvor, O., & Napoleon, A. (2009). Language and culture as protective factors for at-risk
Communities. Journal of Aboriginal Health, 5(1), 6–25.

Shirt, M. (2007). Cree language survey report, Blue Quills First Nations College. [Unpublished
manuscript]. Blue Quills First Nations College, St. Paul: Author.

Shirt, M., Lewis, K., & Jackson, W. (2012). Cree ontology, epistemology and axiology research.
In Hikuroa, D., Ataria, J., Barrett, M., Boulton, A., Brewin, M., Cheung, M., ... Whitinui, P.
In International Indigenous Development Research Conference Proceedings 2012 (pp. 205–211).
University of Auckland, Auckland, New Zealand: Nga¯ Pae o te Ma¯ramatanga.

Statistics Canada (2011). Population and geographic distribution-Aboriginal statistics at a
glance. Ottawa: Author. Retrieved from http://www.statcan.gc.ca/pub/89-645-x/2015001/pop-
concept-eng.htm#a3.

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of Canada: Calls to action. Retrieved from http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/File/2015/
Findings/Calls_to_Action_English2.pdf.

Part IV

Living to Lead in Indigenous
Teacher Education

Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina: A Graduate
Program to Prepare Teacher Leaders for
the Health, Well-being, and Prosperity of
La¯hui Hawai‘i

Kimo Alexander Cashman

Aloha e na¯ Kumu

Kuleana (Sense of responsibility), in particular a kuleana to my relationships
within family and La¯hui Hawaii (Nation of Hawai‘i), is at the centre of my univer-
sity work, my research, and this research mo‘olelo (story, storytelling). I have spe-
cific kuleana as a makua (parent, uncle, elder) within my family and as a teacher
for La¯hui Hawai‘i. Through this research mo‘olelo, I hope to gain insight into the
evolution of my relationships and how to be accountable to these relationships.
Hopefully this research mo‘olelo will inspire you to critically reflect on your rela-
tionships, your kuleana, and your actions. According to Wilson (2008):

Relationships don’t just shape Indigenous reality; they are our reality. Indigenous
researchers develop relationships with ideas in order to achieve enlightenment in the cere-
mony that is Indigenous research. Indigenous research is the ceremony of maintaining
accountability to these relationships. For researchers to be accountable to all our relations,
we must make careful choices in our selection of topics, methods of data collection, forms
of analysis and finally in the way we present information. (p. 146)

Linda Smith (1999) in her book Decolonizing Methodologies articulates that
Indigenous research is ‘situated within the decolonizing politics of the indigenous
peoples’ movement’ (p. 115), and is strategically focused on the goal of self-
determination for Indigenous peoples. Self-determination in a research agenda
involves processes of transformation, healing, mobilization and decolonization
that are incorporated into research methodologies that are developed by us, and
for us. In an Indigenous research agenda our people, concerns, worldviews,
well-being, aspirations, and kuleana are centralized. Although the Aloha Kumu,

K. Alexander Cashman (✉) 251

College of Education, University of Hawai‘i Ma¯noa, Honolulu, Hawai’i, USA
e-mail: [email protected]

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2018
P. Whitinui (eds.), Promising Practices in Indigenous Teacher Education,
DOI 10.1007/978-981-10-6400-5_18

252 K.A. Cashman

Aloha ‘A¯ ina1 program has significantly evolved from being grounded in the poli-
tics of Indigenous decolonization to engaging in the illegal occupation of La¯hui
Hawai‘i by the United Sates, the relevance of Smith’s work is still apparent.
While the appropriateness of the use of terms such as ‘liberation’, ‘self-determina-
tion’ and ‘decolonization’ by Native Hawaiians to describe our goals is under
contention (Sai, 2011), the need for Native Hawaiians and the citizens of La¯hui
Hawai‘i to critically engage in the study and dissemination of research in the
name of our la¯hui is a nation-wide imperative. Situating la¯hui focused research
within a much broader international-Indigenous research movement is strategic in
that it helps to strengthen Indigenous peoples collective pursuit for justice, and
provides an example of how the term ‘Indigenous’ and ‘Indigenous research’ are
malleable, and vital to encompassing the specific contexts of Indigenous peoples
worldwide.

Based on the thoughts and beliefs of our ku¯puna (elders) regarding knowledge
acquisition such as ‘ma ka hana ka ‘ike’ (in working one learns) (Pukui, 1983,
p. 227); ‘a‘ohe pau ka ‘ike i ka ha¯lau ho‘oka¯hi’ (all knowledge is not taught in
the same school; p. 24); I ka na¯na¯ no a ‘ike (by observing, one learns; p. 129);
and ‘mai ka¯pae i ke a‘o a ka makua, aia he ola ma laila’ (do not set aside the
teachings of one’s parents, for there is life there; p. 224), I utilize various methods
to gather and analyze information throughout this research mo‘olelo—such as,
observation, engaging, reflecting, dialoguing, writing, and sharing. Mo‘olelo is
not only a means to teach, and transfer knowledge but also to engage in inquiry.
Mo‘olelo is a process through which I seek to be accountable to how to build
positive relationships for learning. In this research mo‘olelo, I articulate the pur-
pose of kuleana reflexively from which the Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina program
continues to evolve.

‘Upena Ho‘olei Maker

My grandfather was an excellent fisherman. He was equally adept at creating
‘upena ho‘olei (cast-fishing net). The ‘upena ho‘olei is made up of kaula (either
nylon string or monofilament) which is sewn into a series of interlocking maka
(eyes). The kaula is wrapped onto an ‘ohe hi‘a (bamboo needle) then shuttled into
the ‘upena ho‘olei by the maker. Thousands of knots are tied together to create
these maka using a ka (gauge) to ensure the maka are the right size. Pu‘umana
(extra-loops, branching knots) are added to the ‘upena ho‘olei at various intervals
to ensure that the ‘upena ho‘olei will expand properly.

1Aloha Kumu was the name for the inital master’s program/cohort developed in 2010 for tea-
chers in Na¯na¯kuli and Wai‘anae schools. Aloha Kumu now refers to a group of faculty at the
University of Hawai‘i at Ma¯noa-Collge of Education and community members that offers pro-
grams for teachers and education leaders. The Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina program is a master’s
degree program offered by Aloha Kumu.

18 Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina … 253

The ‘upena ho‘olei my grandfather made were highly functional, large in
diameter, and beautiful. According to my grandfather, he learned to make ‘upena
ho‘olei out of necessity. He needed an ‘upena ho‘olei to catch fish to feed his
family. In order to get an ‘upena ho‘olei, he needed to make one for himself. No
one would do it for him. He credited his ku¯puna (elders) for initially teaching him
some basic techniques to make an ‘upena ho‘olei, but he acknowledged that he
acquired much of his knowledge through observation and experimentation. From
the mo‘olelo he shared with us about fishing and life in general, it was clear that
he was passionate in his lifelong pursuit of knowledge; that he respected the

ku¯puna who shared their knowledge with him; he cherished the knowledge he was
given; and he wanted to share his knowledge with us. His kuleana was to help us
to survive and to persevere. He shared his knowledge about the ‘upena ho‘olei
with us so that we would be able to feed ourselves and others—from the ocean
and through the sharing of knowledge.

Real research for Indigenous peoples, according to Maaka (2004), must address

real life needs using methodologies grounded in our Indigenous traditions. My
grandfather’s research on fishing traditions helps us to realize what real research
is. His research also reminds us that the well-being of our ‘ohana (family) and the
prosperity of our la¯hui is dependent upon our ability to effectively collect, analyze
and disseminate information.

‘Upena Ho‘olei Methodology

The ‘upena ho‘olei I learned to make from my grandfather is a metaphor for the
nature of my relationships. The ‘upena ho‘olei represents who we are. It represents
our relationships. Within the ‘upena ho‘olei our stories, languages, kuleana, world-
views, experiences, wahi pana (sacred places), our beliefs, our ways of knowing,
our dreams, and our relationships are all linked together. The ‘upena ho‘olei maker
is the makua. He/she is the mediator. He/she has a kuleana to the relationships
within the ‘upena ho‘olei. He/she has the kuleana to make sure things are in har-
mony within the ‘upena ho‘olei. The ‘upena ho’olei maker strategically sews pu‘u-
mana into the ‘upena ho‘olei. The pu’umana in the ‘upena ho‘olei are like
children in a family. They represent the next generation. They represent growth.
The family and the ‘upena ho‘olei grow because of them. The pu‘umana also
represent major transitional points within one’s life. It is at the pu‘umana where
the ‘upena ho‘olei maker, through research, analysis and reflection, makes deci-
sions on how the ‘upena ho‘olei will continue to grow. The physical making of an
ʻupena ho‘olei provides a space for focused-metaphysical reflection relating to
relationships, kuleana, and all things la¯hui. My kuleana as a makua is in many
ways to make ‘upena ho‘olei. It is the kuleana of ma¯kua2 to build relationships,
take care of our relationships and be guided by our relationships.

2Makua—Singular, Ma¯kua—Plural.

254 K.A. Cashman

Kuleana to Family

One summer, it must have been about 6 years ago. My brother and I, who both live
on O‘ahu, were visiting my parents at their home on the island of Maui. We were
sitting at a table on their front porch eating breakfast. My uncle, who lives across
the street from my parents, came over to talk-story knowing that my brother and I
were visiting for the weekend. He would visit often to talk-story with my parents.

My uncle’s daughter was in her late teens at the time, and she was a student at
the University of Hawai‘i at Ma¯noa (UHM) where my brother and I were both
employed. As we talked-story, uncle was especially curious about the specifics of
our work at UHM. My uncle posed a simple question to us, ‘What you guys do at
UHM?’ A series of follow up questions suggested that the ultimate question he
sought answers to was, ‘How can you folks help my daughter?’

It was interesting to be in that situation. We were at home with our ku¯puna (our
uncle and our parents). They were asking us about our work while indirectly
reminding us of our kuleana. ‘How can you help my daughter?’ Being in that situa-
tion was an indication of the magnitude of the kuleana of Native Hawaiians and
Indigenous academics. While it was our uncle who was asking about our work, our
parents were just as focused on our responses. They also had a kuleana to my uncle
and his daughter that hopefully manifested through us. The situation helped me to
understand that while the work we do, in our case within a mainstream university,
can be complicated; at times philosophically contradictory; and physically and emo-
tionally overwhelming, reflection on a simple question implied by a ku¯puna can be
a source of inspiration and help us to stay focused on our kuleana to our relation-
ships. I am always reminded of a kuleana—‘How can you help my daughter?’

Kuleana to La¯hui

Amongst Native Hawaiian teacher-educators at the University of Hawai‘i at Ma¯noa-
College of Education (UHM-COE), there is a strong sense of kuleana to ‘help’ all
children within our la¯hui that has resulted in the development of various educational
programs to prepare effective teachers to address the needs and aspirations of our citi-
zenry, in particular Native Hawaiians. Education degree programs at the undergradu-
ate and graduate levels focusing on the preparation of teachers and teacher-leaders for
Hawaiian-language immersion schools, Hawaiian-focused public charter schools, and
schools with high enrolments of Native Hawaiian children have been developed.

Evolution of Aloha Kumu

‘I ulu no ka lala i ke kumu, i ulu no ke kumu i ka aina’
The trunk provides for its branches, the land (metaphor for people/community)
provides for the trunk. It is our responsibility to care for those who care for our children.
(K. Faria, personal communication, January 20, 2016)

18 Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina … 255

In 2010, a Master’s of Education degree program for teachers at schools in the
Na¯na¯kuli and Wai‘anae communities was developed and implemented in response
to requests from teachers and community members intent on taking an active role
in the preparation of teachers for their schools. The name of the program was
Aloha Kumu. Aloha Kumu was a partnership that initially included members of
Hawaiian-serving organizations in the Na¯na¯kuli and Wai‘anae communities;
Native Hawaiian faculty from the UHM-COE; and teachers and administrators at
Na¯na¯kuli and Waiʻanae schools. Aloha Kumu was from its inception, a Native
Hawaiian-led program. Central to the evolution of Aloha Kumu was the Hawaiian
concept of aloha (care, support, love, nurture). The Aloha Kumu partners under-
stood the important role all kumu (teachers) play in the educational achievement
of our children (Darling-Hammond, 2013; Freire, 1998; Stronge, 2013) and the
critical need to aloha our kumu (Furuta, 2015)—hence the name, ‘Aloha Kumu’.
Education theorist Michael Apple (1993) states that the curriculum in schools:

… is never simply a neutral assemblage of knowledge, somehow appearing in the texts and
classrooms of a nation. It is always part of a selective tradition, someone’s selection, some
group’s vision of legitimate knowledge. It is produced out of the cultural, political, and eco-
nomic conflicts, tensions, and compromises that organize and disorganize a people. (p. 222)

The first Aloha Kumu Master of Education program for teachers was situated
within the Curriculum Studies Department at the UHM-COE and modelled after a
teacher-education program developed in 2007 by Dr. Margie Maaka, Native
Hawaiian faculty at the UHM-COE, and Wai‘anae community members. The Aloha
Kumu program was grounded in research relating to the benefits of culture-based
pedagogy and practice on the socio-emotional development and student achievement
of children (Castagno & Brayboy, 2008; Demmert & Towner, 2003; Kana‘iaupuni,
Ledward, & Jensen, 2010; Kana‘iaupuni, Malone, & Ishibashi, 2005; Roth & Lee,
2007). Research suggests that education is a cultural process and posits that schools
‘are the primary vehicle for transmitting knowledge and skills as well as the values,
practices, and culture of a society’ (Kana‘iaupuni, Ledward, & Jensen, 2010, p. 2).

A Hawaiian culture-based educational approach was incorporated to counter
the bias against non-western worldviews in mainstream American schools in
which minority and Indigenous keiki, in our case Native Hawaiian keiki, are at a
distinct disadvantage (Kana‘iaupuni, Ledward, & Jensen, 2010). Aloha Kumu
courses and projects also critically engaged teachers in the interrelations between
power, politics, curriculum and educational achievement.

Ka Huliau3: A Time of Change

According to Ma¯ori scholar Professor Graham Smith (2004):

Where Indigenous peoples are in educational crisis, indigenous educators must be trained
to be change agents whose primary task is the transformation of undesirable circumstances.

3Ka Huliau—Turning point; a time of change.

256 K.A. Cashman

They must develop radical pedagogy that is informed by their cultural preferences and by
their own critical circumstances. They must be taught about the importance of reflecting on
and questioning their work. (p. 51)

In 2014, informed by emerging research (Beamer, 2014; Kauai, 2014; Ng,
2013; Sai, 2011, 2013) and an increasing awareness amongst the citizenry of
La¯hui Hawai‘i of the illegal and prolonged occupation of La¯hui Hawai‘i by the
United States of America (United States), the Aloha Kumu program transitioned
from one rooted primarily in the tenants of culturally responsive/cultural-based
education to a program that envisions a populace wellgrounded in the Hawaiian
language, culture and history that is committed to the prosperity of La¯hui Hawai‘i.
Whilst it has become quite common for teacher-education programs in Hawai‘i to
incorporate and/or appropriate Hawaiian culture, language and history into their
programs, the emphasis of the Aloha Kumu program on the ‘prosperity of La¯hui
Hawai‘i’ makes the program unique amongst education programs for teachers in
Hawai‘i.

‘Aloha ‘A¯ ina’, in its literal translation as ‘love for the land’ and as a political
rallying term (Hawaiian patriot, Hawaiian patriotism) coined by our ku¯puna, has
been adopted by contemporary Hawaiian patriots, and the Aloha Kumu Program
faculty, as a call to action.

Aloha ‘A¯ ina: Hawaiian Patriotism

There has been a resurgence of Aloha ‘A¯ ina as evident in the testimonies of
Native Hawaiians in meetings with the U.S. Department of the Interior regarding
the re-establishment of a Hawaiian government (Chang, 2014); Native Hawaiian
efforts to protect Mauna Kea from further development and desecration (Sai,
2015b); Aloha ‘A¯ ina-focused education initiatives; and advocacy at the interna-
tional level on behalf of La¯hui Hawai‘i. This resurgence of Aloha ‘A¯ ina reflects
an increasing awareness of the history of La¯hui Hawai‘i amongst its citizenry.
The resurgence of Aloha ‘A¯ ina also engenders a new course for a Native
Hawaiian movement once heavily focused on cultural revitalization and a quest
for ‘sovereignty’ loosely articulated using language and theories relating to deco-
lonization and self-determination, to one focused on ending the prolonged and
illegal occupation of Hawai‘i by the United States and the rebuilding of La¯hui
Hawai‘i.

Presumption of the Continuity of La¯hui Hawai‘i

Dr. Keanu Sai (2008), in his seminal research on the legal status of La¯hui Hawai‘i
from the 18th century to the present, articulates the legal basis for the presumption
of the continuity of La¯hui Hawai‘i under international law. A presumption,
according to Sai (2015a), in his testimony as expert witness in the State of

18 Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina … 257

Hawai‘i vs. English and the State of Hawai‘i vs. Dudoit, is a conclusion based on
facts. Crawford (as cited in Sai, 2011, p. 128) states that a ‘presumption is a rule
of law where the finding of a basic fact will give rise to the existence of a pre-
sumed fact until it is rebutted’. Under international law, all nation-states are sover-
eign equals. The presumption of the continuity of La¯hui Hawai‘i would, therefore,
afford it the rights inherent in full sovereignty; the inviolable integrity of its terri-
tory and its political independence; and the ‘right to choose and develop its own
political, economic, social and cultural systems’ (Sai, 2014, p. 1) as a co-equal
member of the international community of nation-states.

The presumption of the continuity of a nation-state under international law is
dependent on two mitigating legal facts. First, the nation-state must have been
recognized as an independent entity at some point in history and second, no
intervening events exist to have deprived the nation-state of its independence.
According to Sai (2015a), a nation-state is a recognized subject under interna-
tional law whereas a government is a function of a nation-state—exercising its
authority.

La¯hui Hawai‘i was formally recognized as an independent and neutral nation
by Great Britain and France on November 28, 1843 and by the United States on 6
July 1844, subsequently admitting them to the Family of Nations. La¯hui Hawai‘i
became the first Polynesian and non-European nation to be recognized as an inde-
pendent and neutral nation within the international community. La¯hui Hawai‘i
successfully established diplomatic and treaty relations with a number of nations
including the United States, Germany, Russia and France and by 1893 had over
90 embassies and consulates throughout the world. In 1864, having already estab-
lished itself as a constitutional monarchy, La¯hui Hawai‘i adopted a new constitu-
tion formally articulating a separation of powers, removing the last remnants of
absolutism from Hawaiian law (Sai, 2011).

In July 1887, King Kala¯kaua was forced under threat of revolution and assassi-
nation to sign a new constitution created by a minority of subjects of La¯hui
Hawai‘i and foreign nationals intent on neutralizing ‘the power of the native vote
in order to seize control of the government for their economic gain’ (Sai, 2011, p.
59). The constitution of 1887, aptly referred to as the Bayonet Constitution,
although never ratified, severely reduced the power of the king and placed La¯hui
Hawai‘i under the control of a cabinet with foreign allegiances. Hui Kalai‘a¯ina
(Hawaiian Political Association) and the Liberal Patriotic Association led the
resistance of the majority of Hawaiian nationals to uphold the 1864 constitution as
the legal constitution of the land. On 17 January 1893, the United States partici-
pated in the illegal overthrow of the government of La¯hui Hawai‘i. An investiga-
tion of the events, ordered by the U.S. President Grover Cleveland surrounding
the illegal overthrow, resulted in an executive agreement between the United
States and La¯hui Hawai‘i in which the United States agreed to re-instate the gov-
ernment of La¯hui Hawai‘i (Sai, 2013).

The United States, however, failed on its commitment to re-establish the official
government and administer La¯hui Hawai‘i law. Attempts to cede Hawai‘i by treaty
to the United States failed amidst rousing protests from a majority of Hawaiian

258 K.A. Cashman

Kingdom nationals and resident aliens led by Hui Kalai‘a¯ina and the Men’s and
Women’s Hawaiian Patriotic League (Hui Aloha ‘A¯ ina). On 7 July 1898, the
United States claims to have annexed the Hawaiian Islands via the passage of a
municipal law (Newlands Joint Resolution) (Sai, 2011). Military occupation of
La¯hui Hawai‘i by the United States commenced on 12 August 1898 during the
Spanish American war. The military occupation of La¯hui Hawai‘i by the United
States continues to date. In 1900, the United States passed another municipal law,
the Organic Act, to create a government for the Territory of Hawai‘i. In the
Organic Act, it states that the Republic of Hawai‘i, its predecessor being the self-
proclaimed provisional government put in place at the onset of the illegal over-
throw of La¯hui Hawai‘i in 1893, would become the Territory of Hawai‘i. On 21
August 1959, the Territory of Hawai‘i, via the Statehood Act, became the 50th state
of Untied States (Sai, 2015a).

Upon review of the myriad of historical events surrounding the illegal occupa-
tion of La¯hui Hawai‘i, there is no evidence, to rebut the presumption of the conti-
nuity of La¯hui Hawai‘i as a nation-state under international law. La¯hui Hawai‘i
was formally recognized as an independent nation-state as of 1843, and no inter-
vening events exist to have legally deprived La¯hui Hawai‘i of its independence.
There is no treaty of cessation between the United States and La¯hui Hawai‘i and
the basis for the United States’ claim for annexation of La¯hui Hawai‘i is a munici-
pal law (Newlands-Joint Resolution) that has no authority under international law.
Therefore, there is a presumption that La¯hui Hawai‘i continues to exist under
international law (Sai, 2015a).

Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina: The Re-Education of La¯hui Hawai‘i

We have been Americanized. We have been brainwashed. We have been indoctrinated.
We need to address this. We need to begin the re-education (of our people). We are going
to engage head-on, the brainwashing that took place in our (Hawai‘i) schools. (Sai,
2015b, 10:49)

The ‘re-education’ of the citizenry of La¯hui Hawai‘i warrants a critical review
and potential revamping of the theoretical underpinnings, purpose, and configura-
tions of Hawaiian-focused educational initiatives as well as educational initiatives
for the greater La¯hui Hawai‘i. Teachers and education leaders will play a critical
role in the re-education of La¯hui Hawai‘i as they have the power within their
respective classrooms and/or schools to contextualize knowledge, instruction and
school protocols. As such, programs that prepare teachers and educational leaders
in Hawai‘i have a responsibility to ensure that all teachers and all education lea-
ders in Hawai‘i understand the history of La¯hui Hawai‘i; understand how the
schools have been complicit in the indoctrination of children in Hawai‘i and pos-
sess the skills and kuleana to counter this indoctrination.

In 2014, the faculty of the Aloha Kumu program developed a Master’s of
Education program to engage teachers and educational leaders in the re-education

18 Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina … 259

of La¯hui Hawai‘i. The program was named, ‘Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina’.4 The
name ‘Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina’ reflects a belief that we care for our la¯hui, lands
and people (Aloha ‘A¯ ina) by caring for our teachers (Aloha Kumu). The primary
goals of the program were to provide teachers with opportunities to gain an in-
depth understanding of the history of La¯hui Hawai‘i, in particular the events sur-
rounding the illegal overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom government; and to help
teachers develop through praxis (research, action, reflection) the knowledge, skills,
and sense of kuleana to incorporate historical facts relating to the history of La¯hui
Hawai‘i into their teaching.

The Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina program was made up of k-12 teachers from
private schools, Hawaiian-language immersion schools, Hawaiian-focused public-
charter schools, and Hawai‘i-Department of Education (HI-DOE) schools. Each of
these schools had high-enrolments of Native Hawaiian children.

In developing the program, Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina faculty sought to
address some of the concerns of teachers regarding graduate study. Conflicting
university and school schedules; demanding coursework; the high cost of tuition;
and travel time to and from the University of Hawai‘i were noted, in pre-program
surveys, as potential challenges to completing a master’s program. In response to
the teachers’ concerns, a cohort model was adopted. The cohort model allowed for
the development of a highly structured and supportive program through which the
courses, course schedule and program activities could be specifically tailored for
participating teachers.5 The teachers participated in the majority of the program
courses and activities with their respective cohorts. The flexibility afforded
through the cohort model allowed us to quickly and effectively respond to the tea-
chers’ needs and any programmatic issues.

To minimize the amount of time teachers would need to dedicate to the pro-

gram per semester and to ensure that they would be able to focus on their own

teaching responsibilities, the teachers enrolled in only two courses per semester
over a two-year (five semesters) period. The program courses (10) also incorpo-
rated various delivery formats (in-person, online, hybrid) and were held at school

and community sites to address the time and travel concerns of teachers. Program

courses and activities that involved travel to other Hawaiian islands and intensive

work with our communities were scheduled during the summer semester. Funding

was secured through grants, scholarships, the UHM-COE, private donations and

participating schools to provide tuition, research and travel supports for teachers.

The teachers were required to successfully complete the program coursework
and complete a master’s project in order to graduate with a Master’s of Education
in Curriculum Studies degree from the UHM-COE. The program consisted of

courses that focused on the Hawaiian Kingdom; post-colonial education;

4The Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina program consisted of two cohorts of teachers. Participating tea-
chers (30) were grouped primarily according to school location.

5‘Teacher’ is a reference to those teachers who are students in the Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina
master’s program.

260 K.A. Cashman

education leadership; community-based education; peace education; program eva-
luation; curriculum studies and educational research. Faculty members from var-
ious colleges throughout the University of Hawai‘i system, teachers in the HI-
DOE and community-based educators served as instructors for the program
courses. There was a commitment amongst the instructors in the program to the
prosperity of La¯hui Hawai‘i. Opportunities for the teachers to work and research
within their own communities and with community-based educators from the
islands of Hawai‘i, Ni‘ihau, Kaua‘i, and Maui were provided through the courses.
The teachers also completed master’s projects in which they critically reflected on
their growth over the course of the program.

Critical Reflection

The teachers in the Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina program completed the Master of
Education program by the summer of 2016. Formative and summative evaluations
conducted to date provide insight into the development of teachers and their over-
all satisfaction with the Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina program. While we understand
that additional evaluations are needed for insight into the long-term impact of our
program, current data provides valuable information for us to critically reflect on
as we prepare for the start of the next Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina cohorts.6

The Well-being of Aloha ‘A¯ ina Educators

There were a number of key factors noted by teachers that contributed to their suc-
cess and satisfaction within the Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina program. Many tea-
chers indicated that they would not have been able to afford the cost of graduate
studies without the financial assistance provided by the program. With the enrol-
ment in our program and competition for federal and local grants increasing, we
need to find creative ways to continue to provide financial assistance to teachers.
We are currently exploring additional partnerships with the HI-DOE, community-
based organizations, and other colleges within the University of Hawai‘i as ways
to possibly leverage resources for our teachers.

Teachers also noted that there was a supportive and caring environment within
each cohort. The teachers felt comfortable sharing their ideas in class, they sup-
ported each other with class projects, and there was a genuine sense of aloha for
everyone in the group. Maintaining a rigorous and comprehensive application pro-
cess will help us to ensure that we have cohorts made up of teachers who are able
to meet the demands of the program and are willing to support their peers within a
professional-learning community. Setting up times throughout the semester for the

6Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina cohorts #3 and #4 will begin in the fall semester of 2016.

18 Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina … 261

teachers to meet with program coordinators individually and as a cohort may also
help us to maintain a sense of community within the program and identify issues
that need to be addressed in a timely manner.

Kilo Leadership Approach

A kilo approach to leadership has been adopted by the Aloha Kumu Program. A
kilo is a person who closely observes and critically examines phenomena and rela-
tionships within a specific context. He/she seeks to understand relationships and
forecast events in order to guide others. A kilo i‘a (lead fisherman/woman), for
example, is someone who observes the relationships between the ocean-tides, the
weather and fish movements. The kilo i‘a also knows what knowledge and skills
the lawai‘a (fishermen/women) possesses. With this knowledge, the kilo i‘a will
lead a group of lawai‘a in catching fish. Whereas, the ‘upena hoolei serves as a
metaphor for the nature of relationships, the kilo is the person who will closely
observe others as they create their individual ‘upena ho‘olei; facilitate relationships
between ‘upena ho‘olei makers and guide them towards achieving collective goals.

The kilo of the Aloha Kumu program must closely observe and critically examine
the relationships between the variables that directly impact our kuleana as educators
to La¯hui Hawai‘i. He/she needs to be aware of and understand the issues, and trends
at the University of Hawai‘i system, UHM-COE, HI-DOE, Hawai‘i communities,
school sites, as well as the international context. The kilo must also understand the
needs and aspirations of our citizenry, and our teachers in order to develop educa-
tional programs that are academically rigorous, relevant and consistent with our goals.

There are advantages to working within a conventional university like the UHM.
Access to degree programs, opportunities for inter-college collaborations and the
availability of resources to support community-based research make it possible for
us to offer the Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina master’s program. The UHM-COE in par-
ticular is a site where the kilo needs to focus his/her attention. Understanding the
intricacies, inner workings and relations that are at the core of the UHM-COE
through purposeful engagement, will help us to take full advantage of available
resources and to predict the challenges and issues we might face in the future.
Through purposeful engagement within the UHM-COE, the kilo will also be able
to identify opportunities to support Indigenous education internationally.

Moving Forward

In the Aloha Kumu program, we envision a populace, well grounded in Hawaiian
history, language, and culture that is committed to the prosperity of La¯hui Hawai‘i
into the 21st century. The Aloha Kumu, Aloha ‘A¯ ina master’s program for teachers
within La¯hui Hawai‘i is one manifestation of our vision. As we move forward with

262 K.A. Cashman

the re-education of our citizenry, we are inspired by the thoughts and actions of our
ku¯puna; sustained by our relationships; nourished when our children are awakened
and committed to the health, well-being, and prosperity of all peoples.

Glossary of Terms

Aloha care, support, love, nurture
Aloha ʻA¯ ina love for one’s homeland. Reference to both a familial rela-

Aloha Kumu tionship with land and the notion of Hawaiian patriotism
Ka love and respect for those who share knowledge
Kaula gauge
Kilo i‘a either nylon string or monofilament
Kuleana lead fisherman/woman
Kumu sense of responsibility
Ku¯ puna teachers
La¯hui Hawaiʻi elders
Lawai‘a Nation of Hawaiʻi
Maka fishermen/women
Makua (ma¯kua, eyes
plural) parent, elder
Moʻolelo
‘Ohana story, story telling
Pu‘umana family
‘Upena ho‘olei extra-loops, branching knots
Wahi pana cast-fishing net
sacred places

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Strong Foundations, Stronger Futures: Using
Theory-Based Design to Embed Indigenous
Australian Education Content in a Teacher
Education Programme

Lucia Zundans-Fraser, Barbara Hill and Alan Bain

Introduction

One of the resonant themes running through both higher education and teacher edu-
cation literature is the absence of foundational frameworks to guide new initiatives
in programme design and planning (Jacobs, 2007; Johnson, Veitch, & Dewiyanti,
2015; Schalock, Schalock, & Ayres, 2006). A consistent suggestion in the literature
concerns the need for teacher educators to be active, visible participants in reform
processes at both institutional and community level and advocate strongly for what
they consider are indicators of quality (Berry, 2005; Koster & Dengerink, 2008).
An additional challenge is that the status of teacher education is marginalized in the
higher education context in Australia and internationally (Bradley, Noonan, Nugent,
& Scales, 2008; Levine, 2006; Liston, Borko, & Whitcomb, 2008; Loughran,
2011). This is doubly true for those brokering the inclusion of Indigenous education
in mainstream teacher education programmes. This content needs to be infused
across all aspects of teacher education, otherwise it will be positioned by educators
as something different, not their responsibility and not a requirement of their teach-
ing practice. The Review of Higher Education Access and Outcomes for Aboriginal
and Torres Strait Islander People: Final Report (Behrendt, Larkin, Griew & Kelly,

L. Zundans-Fraser (✉) · B. Hill · A. Bain

Faculty of Arts and Education, School of Teacher Education, Charles Sturt University, Bathurst,
New South Wales, Australia
e-mail: [email protected]

B. Hill
e-mail: [email protected]

A. Bain
e-mail: [email protected]

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2018 265
P. Whitinui (eds.), Promising Practices in Indigenous Teacher Education,
DOI 10.1007/978-981-10-6400-5_19

266 L. Zundans-Fraser et al.

2012) recognizes Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander knowledge is not evenly
built into university curricula. Rigney’s paper included as part of The Review states
that there is an uneven commitment by universities in the teaching of Indigenous
knowledges and interestingly that currently ‘Australian schools and universities
are in a[n] “Indigenous perspectives across the curriculum” historical moment’
(Behrendt et al., 2012, p. 96).

Concerns about standards and participation (Bradley et al., 2008), issues of
equity and inclusion (Devlin, Kift, Nelson, Smith, & McKay, 2012) and quality
assurance (Tertiary Education Quality and Standards Agency, 2015) have resulted
in a heightened focus on higher education learning and teaching. Recognition of
these concerns is evident through the range of initiatives and Australian national
projects focused on graduate capabilities (Oliver, 2011), standards and assessment
(Freeman & Ewan, 2014) and curriculum design (Reidsema, Hadgraft, Cameron,
& King, 2011). Indigenous Australian cultural competence is also emerging as a
research priority with the Universities Australia report, The National Best Practice
Framework for Indigenous Cultural Competency in Australian Universities (2011)
and recommendations from The Review (Behrendt et al., 2012). The latter recom-
mended that universities ‘develop and implement an Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Islander teaching and learning strategy applicable across a range of curriculums,
focused on standards of excellence as applied to other curriculum content and
feeding into descriptions of graduate attributes, with an initial focus on priority
disciplines to close the gap such as teaching and health professions’ (p. xxii; and
later discussion on pp. 94–104).

The convergence of these concerns has created the impetus for the development
of a new way of designing programmes that addresses these multiple needs and
embeds solutions through the design process. With a commitment to cultural com-
petence, the work reported in this chapter focuses on how the process of pro-
gramme design can be used to embed cultural competence from the beginning of
programme development.

This chapter will focus on an initiative undertaken at Charles Sturt University,
Australia, to embed Indigenous Australian curriculum and pedagogy throughout
its undergraduate courses of which an undergraduate teacher education pro-
gramme was one of the pilot programmes to undertake the new design process.
We describe the first phase of the design process that incorporated the formation
of a collaborative design team, the development of a set of programme commit-
ments, the integration of standards, the involvement of the Indigenous Board of
Studies (IBS) and the development of a conceptual model. As an explicit strate-
gic priority of the institution is to ‘ensure that all UG [undergraduate programs]
incorporate Indigenous Australian content consistent with the Indigenous cultural
competence pedagogical framework’ as stated in both the CSU Strategy 2013–
2015 (p. 3) and the Policy on Indigenous Content in CSU Courses, 2015–2018
(p. 2) the design process was viewed as the optimal space within which to focus
resources and aim to embed Indigenous content in an authentic manner through-
out the programme.

19 Strong Foundations, Stronger Futures … 267

Theoretical Underpinning and Application in Education

Universities are often criticized for their inability and reluctance to apply theory to
the design and conduct of their own processes and activities (Allen & Wright, 2014;
Bain & Zundans-Fraser, 2016; Coate & Tooher, 2010; Fitzmaurice, 2010).
Schalock, Schalock, and Ayres (2006) suggest that theory development, testing and
refinement are central to teacher education and research, and that these elements
need to be incorporated in a systematic way through application to practice. In the
programme design process to be described in this chapter, the notion of theory has
been informed by the work of Kuhn (1996) who positions theory as the generator of
concepts and beliefs that then need to be aligned with appropriate methods, systems
and tools that support how these concepts and beliefs are represented in practice.
The design process is more specifically informed by the theory of self-organization
and self-organizing systems (Kauffman, 1995; Prigogine & Stengers, 1984;
Waldrop, 1993). Self-organization has been utilized as an explanatory framework
for systems in nature (Juarrero & Rubino, 2010), in relation to human intervention
and action, including the design and development of cities (Johnson, 2001), busi-
nesses (Pascale, Milleman, & Gioja, 2000), schools (Bain, 2007) and more recently
higher education institutions (Bain & Zundans-Fraser, 2016; Zundans-Fraser, 2014).

Educational research informed by complexity science addresses the dynamic
conditions that emerge in educational contexts. Advances in the study of complex
systems and application to educational settings have identified the need to further
revise and examine approaches to the way human systems function, particularly in
connection to educational programmes (Van Geert & Steenbeek, 2014). The prac-
tice of education occurs within a complex system that includes individuals, groups
of educators, educational stakeholders and community members. Complexity aims
to understand the overall system of which all these participants are a part
(Trombly, 2014). This resonates well in the teacher education context for number
of reasons: the interactions required at various levels—with students, with collea-
gues, with executive, with external stakeholders and community; the dynamic and
shifting nature of education; the various aspects that impact and continually alter
the educational landscape that is: government, policy; and the often collaborative
nature of planning. The positive nature of working in a collaborative manner is
often emphasized, however the reality is that in teacher education coherence, unity
and intentional design are still lacking and little evidence of sustained improve-
ment is available (Grossman, Hammerness, & McDonald, 2009; Grossman,
Hammerness, McDonald, & Ronfeldt, 2008; Levin, 2010; Zundans-Fraser, 2014).

Self-organization indicates that systems are capable of powerful bottom-up
change when the system shares a schema or framework for action (Gell-Mann,
1994). With a shared schema, the system can disperse control to the agents (indivi-
duals) within the system. Empowered by their feedback and self-organizing activity,
the system can develop, succeed, test, grow, adapt and change without constant
top-down intervention. Not only are self-organizing systems emergent, they are also
adaptive as all responses to an event are active—there is no passivity within the

268 L. Zundans-Fraser et al.

system (Waldrop, 1993). For example, in educational contexts knowledge is
actively constructed and self-organized by the individual and prior knowledge is
self-organized into schemas (Doolittle, 2000). Teacher educators construct their
knowledge of education and the optimum learning event in an autonomous manner
based on their experiences over time. Reflection and feedback lead to continual evo-
lution within a system where better choices and improvements can be made, and
where new conditions for future developments are subsequently created.

Six design principles of self-organization: simple rules or commitments,
embedded design, similarity at scale, feedback, dispersed control and common
schema, were first utilized as a practical framework for the self-organizing school
project (Bain, 2007). This work represented the first longitudinal study and scaling
up of complexity theory as a design metaphor into practice in an education con-
text. Each of these principles was applied in a manner that encompassed best prac-
tice in education and provided a structural framework for the design process.
These principles (Fig. 1) have now been utilized in multiple educational settings,
including higher education.

The development of simple rules (or commitments) create a space where an orga-
nization explicitly states what it believes and values by examining current needs and
aspirations in relation to the commitments designed. The simple rules provide a term
of reference for all individuals involved in the work. The principle of embedded
design requires an organization to think about and act on the way the simple rules
can be enacted upon with an organization’s design. This may require new ways of
doing things. By embedding design throughout an organizational structure, similarity

Simple rules or
commitments

Emergent Embedded
feedback design

Common Similarity at
schema scale

Dispersed
control

Fig. 1 Six principles of self-organization used for course design in higher education

19 Strong Foundations, Stronger Futures … 269

at scale becomes evident as the tools, systems and methods determined earlier in the
design process are operationalized at all levels of an organization.

Embedding feedback cycles into the design supports the emergent and dynamic
element of the design where this constant exchange can help the organization to
decide what to do next rather than examine what has happened after the fact.
Feedback is gathered about the things that the organization is committed to. This
could be about the quality of assessments in the course, the collaborative process of
the team and inclusion of all stakeholders, the extent to which Indigenous
Education is embedded in the design, etc. The principle of dispersed control looks
at how all of the individuals in system have agency within this system. By being
actively involved in the development of simple rules, providing feedback and using
embedded design individuals develop a level of commitment, engagement and a
stake in the design. Dispersed control is achieved as the design and implementation
work becomes a shared venture rather than reliant on individuals. With the five
mentioned principles working in an interactive manner, a schema for engagement is
created for all of those engaged in the programme design work. As the design work
continues the evolving schema means that individuals are able to work together in
an effective manner to execute their particular roles within the system.

The findings from the self-organizing schools project demonstrate the value of
building a complete foundation for reform in a deeper articulation of theory, sys-
tems and practice (Bain, 2007). This approach of underpinning a course design
process with theory and six principles of self-organization was subsequently uti-
lized in the higher education context in the design and development work of a tea-
cher education course focused on inclusive education (Zundans-Fraser, 2014).
Findings from this project were similar to those of the self-organizing schools pro-
ject where it was evident that the use of a theoretical basis for programme design
that provided a clear framework and ensured the rigour of the work that was done
by all the participants. These principles have been subject to further validation in
the higher education teacher education contexts in studies examining these princi-
ples through the use of evidence-based practice in pre-service teacher preparation
(Bain, Lancaster, Zundans, & Parkes, 2009; Zundans-Fraser & Lancaster, 2012);
in examining pattern language development in pre-service teacher education
(Bain, Lancaster, & Zundans, 2009) and in higher education programme design
(Bain & Zundans-Fraser, 2016; Zundans-Fraser & Bain, 2015, 2016).

This theoretical approach offers significant opportunity for the design and
implementation of teacher education programmes. It creates the potential for a
more cohesive and constructively aligned approach to programme and course
design including: better collaboration among faculty and students; more timely
and useful feedback about design and implementation especially in relation to the
alignment between learning experiences and professional standards and the incor-
poration of powerful research-based approaches to learning and teaching as a
foundation for both design and implementation.

As a part of a wider institutional commitment to Indigenous Australian cultural
competence, the Charles Sturt University Indigenous Education Strategy (2008–
2015) committed to the incorporation of assessable Indigenous Australian content

270 L. Zundans-Fraser et al.

into all CSU undergraduate onshore degree programs using a cultural competence
pedagogical framework. The initial Indigenous Education Strategy was endorsed by
Academic Senate and University Council in September 2008 and provided CSU
with a comprehensive whole-of-institution Policy framework, key performance indi-
cators and 36 Recommendations to build institutional and individual cultural com-
petencies and improve outcomes in Indigenous Education. The intention was for
this to be fully implemented by 2015. This was later extended to 2018 with a new
Policy on Indigenous Content in CSU Courses, 2015–2018 outlining further com-
mitments with an emphasis on governance. Implementation guidelines focus on the
delivery of these commitments and ensure that these commitments result in courses
that are compliant with policy. This has required a layered response that has as its
core a whole of institution response to Indigenous Australian cultural competence.
The strategies that were introduced to ensure the success of this policy were double
funding for compliant subjects, the establishment of an Indigenous Board of Studies,
the appointment of an Indigenous Curriculum and Pedagogy Coordinator, the devel-
opment of Curriculum Guidelines, amendment of course review templates, the
development of Indigenous Australian Graduate Attribute and professional develop-
ment in Indigenous Australian cultural competency for all University staff with an
emphasis on the development of teaching staff. Underpinning this multi-focused
approach was the concept that a sound framework would reflect the beliefs currently
held in the institution and provide a practical model for action.

Process Undertaken

The programme design process developed separated the design process into three
phases, the first of which will be focused on in this chapter. Phase 1 called the
Baseline is viewed as the framing component of the programme design process. It
incorporates four key elements: the establishment of a programme design team; the
creation of a set of strengths, needs and drivers for the course; the development of
course commitments and a production of a conceptual model. Underpinning each of
these elements was technology designed to create the conditions for supporting the
process. Each of these will be explored in more specific detail with particular refer-
ence to what each offers in relation to Indigenous teacher education.

The establishment of a programme design team: The programme design team
consists of key stakeholders in the design process. This may include: a course direc-
tor/coordinator, a faculty leader, discipline experts, an educational designer, literacy
and numeracy specialist and an Indigenous curriculum specialist. The inclusion of
an Indigenous curriculum specialist and a literacy and numeracy specialist reflects
the institutional focus on these two areas for all undergraduate programmes. The
intent is to have an Indigenous curriculum specialist involved from the beginning of
the programme design process so that Indigenous perspectives and knowledge are
embedded from the start and infused throughout the programme rather than being
an ‘add-on’ or after thought and not incorporated authentically.

19 Strong Foundations, Stronger Futures … 271

The production of a set of strengths, needs and drivers: this is one of the first
joint tasks completed by the programme design team. It is a point in the design
process where different perspectives, understandings and hopes for the course are
discussed. The programme design team reflects on what currently works well, the
already identified areas for improvement by staff that have previously taught in
the programme and what may be some additional internal and external factors that
need to be considered in the review and development process. It also allows
design team members to hear other perspectives and consider what they are
strongly committed to, what they are willing to negotiate and what aspects are not
‘deal breakers’ for them. It is in this discussion that powerful opportunities can
emerge. The potential impact on the inclusion of Indigenous Australian content
can explore issues of staff resistance, opportunities for staff professional develop-
ment and voices for social justice and reconciliation. It is in this space that silences
can also be revealed—what is missing and why?

The development of programme commitments: In self-organizing systems, com-
plex behaviour can be stimulated by relatively simple rules or commitments (Bain,
2007; Sull & Eisenhardt, 2012). In a teacher education programme simple rules
could be evident through a commitment to a set of graduate attributes, to embed-
ding collaborative practice throughout the programme or to authentic assessment.
What determines a self-organizing system is the way these commitments are purpo-
sefully translated into the programme design structure and evident throughout the
process. The intent is that these evolve throughout the process and are not a static
entity. A programme team may realize that more emphasis needs to be placed on
standards for various reasons for example: industry or institutional requirements,
team belief, and so the commitments need to reflect these developments.
Commitment in this space is crucial and vital ensuring that all course team members
have a shared story or course narrative around Indigenous Australian curriculum
and to what extent this may address policy requirements of the institution. As only
two Universities in Australia currently mandate compulsory Indigenous Australian
content the inclusion of frameworks and accreditations guidelines might also apply.

The creation of a conceptual model: The conceptual model pulls all the earlier
discussions together and requires the programme team to create a visual represen-
tation of key elements. The conceptual model provides a unifying framework that
takes up valued theories, models and research-informed practice directly and
applies them to course design in a way that encompasses the discussions of the
programme team. The model further reflects the needs and directions of the field,
gives the course a unique identity and generates course cohesion. The model
represents the shared theory and beliefs of the programme design team and guides
decisions about design and subsequent actions. Visualising models become an
important way of representing the centrality of Indigenous curriculum and peda-
gogy and it quickly emerges if the course commitments do not sit centrally or are
in some way marginalized or, in more tokenistic way, merely added on.
Reflection on this modelling enables course teams to really articulate where they
expect Indigenous curriculum to be in the design story in relation to other aspects
of the course.

272 L. Zundans-Fraser et al.

Collectively, these elements set a term of reference for a programme that sits
above standards and reflects graduate attributes, the institutional agenda and the
unique contribution of the programme design team.

Technology

Technology played a critical role in the development of the program. A set of
tools were employed to implement the model using a set of principles entitled
edge technology (Bain & Weston, 2012). Edge technology is about building tools
for learning and teaching that assist users to engage in collaborative work and net-
working, share feedback on work process and build and extend cognitive capacity
in relation to learning and teaching (Bain & Weston, 2012). The tools helped
designers to identify needs and drivers, map graduate attributes and standards with
a specific focus on indigenous education, build assessment tasks and learning
designs for courses, and share feedback on all aspects of the process (Bain, 2012).
The tools prioritize the quality of curriculum and enable developers to migrate
their approach to curriculum development from ‘documenting’ the University pro-
gram to one that prioritizes learning and teaching (Bain & Zundans-Fraser, 2016).

The edge tools also created a common, readily accessible design platform that
made it possible for the Indigenous education team to review and support the for-
mative work product of all design teams across the faculties. The team used the
tools to identify and share exemplary practice, provide feedback and facilitate net-
working among developers so that good ideas and successful approaches were
shared across the community. The result was a systematic whole of university
approach to embedding Indigenous education attributes and standards in the
course profile. Figure 2 describes an example layout from the tools showing the
mapping of Indigenous education standards.

Fig. 2 Example—demonstrating how Indigenous standards can be mapped

19 Strong Foundations, Stronger Futures … 273

The tools translated the theoretical principles into day-to-day work. They were
derived from simple rules, reflect the embedding of the elements of the conceptual
model in normal work; they disperse control in the form of a shared platform for
collaborative work and make emergent feedback possible. In sum, their repeated
use instantiated the shared understanding of the university’s schema for learning
and teaching.

Importantly, the form of the tools possesses agency (Bain & Dregenberg, 2016;
Levy, 2001) that was captured by the Indigenous education team. They were able
to use the tools to identify and articulate the needs, drivers and process goals of
the teams to make the curriculum at CSU more responsive to Indigenous educa-
tion standards and graduate attributes. The tools also created challenges for those
faculties and teams more focused on an instrumental approach to their design
efforts. This occurred where the agency reflected in the curricular requirements of
the tools and their learning and teaching focus and functionality digressed from
the current practice of course development teams and faculties. The edge tools cre-
ated the conditions where the big ideas and policy commitments of the university
could readily be translated into practice at scale. While this circumstance repre-
sented a unique opportunity for CSU and any university, it also constituted a pro-
found challenge to the status quo of course development across the faculties.

Findings and Experiences

The authors were involved in the programme design process described here in
varying roles as they worked with a number of teacher education programme
design teams—as an Indigenous curriculum specialist, as a discipline content
expert and as a design leader. This provided us with varying perspectives to reflect
upon as our original roles within the design process became a lot more fluid as the
relationships between the programme design team developed. In some cases
faculty staff nominated a discipline representative to attend design team meetings
and contribute to design and development. They were also responsible for report-
ing back to their discipline group and develop material through a process of con-
sultation with this group. This ensured the course was designed through a
collaborative process. In other cases a discipline only had one person working in
the area, so that person was involved through default.

It was evident that the nature of the collaborative experience was highly depen-
dent upon the leader of the design team. If they were keen to work collaboratively
and involve all design team members throughout the process, it was seen as a very
positive experience. If collaboration was not particularly valued, staff tended to
revert back to their usual operating manner of working in silos. As part of the pro-
gramme design process, one of the programme teams embedded an explicit com-
mitment to Indigenous Cultural Competence—‘This course will prepare students to
work in culturally and socially diverse contexts of urban, regional, rural and
remote Australia. Graduates will engage in culturally competent practice with

274 L. Zundans-Fraser et al.

Indigenous, refugee and other communities’. Others either explicitly mentioned the
need for consideration of other cultural groups or couched their commitment to cul-
tural competence as part of a broader commitment to equity and social justice.

The role of being an Indigenous specialist within this space is particularly chal-
lenging. Working with programme teams that are open to different perspectives
and interested in the way cultural competence can be embedded throughout their
work models of how a truly collaborative team can work. In instances where there
is resistance, disinterest and cynicism about the need for these perspectives shifts
the work of the programme team from a collaborative process to more confronta-
tional. Often this space (useful to this idea is Boler’s (1999) concept of the ‘peda-
gogy of discomfort’) can be very contested and uncomfortable and it takes great
skill to incorporate the diaspora of ideas and emotions in safe ways especially
when course teams involve Indigenous Australian staff. There is inevitably a
gamut of emotions and experience from ‘why are we doing this?’ to ‘how are we
going to do this?’ At every point individuals need to be brought along. There are
often lengthy debates, individuals providing examples of their experiences both
positive and negative; champions emerging and in some cases saying things like,
‘I no longer want to teach in a course that is inherently racist’. By exploring com-
mitments, we see what we want our teacher education students to look like when
they graduate—what kind of values do we hold high?—and by articulating this,
there is more chance of an emerging consensus—a platform if you like from
which to push off and from which, in later processes, provides a necessary ‘touch
stone’ to return to if conversations become diverted or lost along the way. It is
important to note that this space is inherently emotional because people are in some
cases being asked to reflect, be reflexive and to share aspects of their cherished
ideas and standpoints. It is also important to note that this process takes time; a fact
often at odds with the expediency expected in relation to university deadlines.

What further complicates the intent of an Indigenous curriculum specialist
being involved in the programme design process is staffing. A significant time
commitment is involved and it is unrealistic to expect an individual to be able to
be authentically involved with a significant number of courses. The commitment
to incorporating Indigenous Australian content across all undergraduate pro-
grammes needs to be supported with an equal commitment to staffing to meet this
target. McTamaney and Palmeri (2011) have noted that often who designs the fra-
mework, implements the model and assesses it will determine whether it becomes
powerful and useful or an irrelevant tool and process. The process described in
this chapter relies on the commitment of all within an institution to engage in a
process that encapsulates a commitment to Indigenous education as identified by
the institutional leadership and broader community. A whole of institutional shift
is required at scale in order to explicitly demonstrate a commitment to a course
design process where all stakeholders are included. If an institutional focus
includes a genuine commitment to embedding Indigenous perspectives through all
undergraduate courses this expectation needs to be the responsibility of all stake-
holders. What can only strengthen this responsibility and ensure quality is an
overseeing body that monitors, approves or vetoes this content. As The National
Best Practice Framework for Indigenous Cultural Competency in Australian

19 Strong Foundations, Stronger Futures … 275

Universities (2011) reminds us governances around inclusive curricular is vital. It
is vital for a number of very important reasons—paramount of which is the ability
of Indigenous Australian people to determine the appropriateness of content being
taught and for the skill-set of such Boards to be central to learning and teaching in
the academe. Charles Sturt University has an Indigenous Board of Studies (IBS)
that oversees and defines all Indigenous Australian content and is part of the wider
Indigenous Education Strategy within the University. IBS is made up of
Indigenous and non-Indigenous staff who work closely in the field of Indigenous
Australian Studies and learning and teaching and quality assure the content that
comes before it. This board sits under the Universities Academic Senate and has
substantial reporting responsibilities commensurate with academic governance.

In many ways the approach described here can be viewed as an integration of
frameworks that help to create a pathway for scaffolding Indigenous cultural compe-
tence. The design methods and technologies described in the self-organizing approach
can be used to create a safe context for addressing the challenges associated with
embedding Indigenous cultural competence in teacher education program design. The
approach provides a vehicle for ensuring that integration is universal, program and
course centric and inclusive of all key standards. The edge technologies create a con-
text for meaningful collaboration and feedback that is transparent and shares responsi-
bility across the membership of a collaborative program design team. The tools also
make possible an inclusive process that can be completed in a timely manner.

In concluding, it is important to highlight the successful integration of Indigenous
cultural competence in the university and teacher education curriculum requires
more than a methodology. An institution must first assign priority and attention to
Indigenous cultural competence at all levels of leadership. Such a commitment needs
to be active, ongoing and substantive—enacted beyond rhetoric and policy and
embedded in the normal work of the university. The expectation of thoughtful
engagement across a higher education community must be modelled by the leaders
in their commitment to the criticality and urgency of the task. Success is determined
by the way the methods and approaches are reflected in the outcomes achieved by
students and in a desire to make these outcomes more visible and comparable.

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onikanêw: ‘She Who Leads’: Learning
to Lead in Education

Belinda Daniels

Aboriginal students have experienced silencing in education in their lives, through the
physical, psychological, and cultural mechanisms used in residential and boarding schools
and their intergenerational effects, or because they have not been adequately represented
in educational curriculum and educational systems. Only very recently has the curriculum
at all educational levels begun to address Aboriginal peoples and histories. (Crey, 2009,
paragraph 31)

Purpose

In this chapter I narrate how, as an Indigenous Cree woman, I became interested in
Indigenous education, language revitalization and curriculum development.
According to Clandinin and Connelly (2000), ‘A narrative is the best way of repre-
senting and understanding experience’ (p. 18). For me, adopting a narrative
approach helps me to remember who I am as a ne¯hiyaw, one who is also a woman,
a teacher and, most importantly, a mother. To do so in a culturally appropriate way,
I need to map the cultural connection to my language ne¯hiyawe¯win, exploring how
the Indian Act (established long before I was born) and formal education deeply
affected my own schooling experiences, and those of my family. These two cultural
terms onikanêw and iskwêw are closely tied together in the role of taking care of
the people and community. I have learned many teachings that coincide within our
language, ceremony and, more significantly, life itself that I wish to share through
narrative. This will include my worldview about teaching, my experiences as a

B. Daniels (✉) 279

Indigenous Studies, University of Saskatchewan, Saskatoon, Canada

PhD Candidate, University of Alberta, Edmonton, Canada
e-mail: [email protected]

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2018
P. Whitinui (eds.), Promising Practices in Indigenous Teacher Education,
DOI 10.1007/978-981-10-6400-5_20

280 B. Daniels

life-long learner of Cree, and my passion for leading in education. In this way,
language revitalization and preservation of my language has become the lived practice
of achieving self-determination in the way we choose to lead as Cree in education.

Language as Foundational to Identity

In order to understand Indigenous people’s distinct worldview and beliefs, I start
with the purpose of language, as language ‘represents a knowledge system that
holds a depth of knowing that has not yet been fully tapped for contemporary edu-
cation’ (Battiste, 2013, p. 147). Language is an essential element that lays down
the foundation of identity. For example, ‘identity is socially created and claimed
through language, through an intentional negotiation of meanings and understand-
ings. We speak a language or languages and it often identifies our origins, history,
membership and culture’ (Baker, 2007, p. 407). This notion has been completely
avoided or overlooked when it comes to the purpose of Aboriginal education.
Since the 1600s the lives of the original inhabitants of North America have been
demoralized, decimated and devastated by early missionaries, church and govern-
ment officials. Similarly, ‘having generations of Indian children removed from
their parents, denying them a normal childhood and the teachings of their people,
resulted in the loss of their cultural traditions; including their Native languages’
(Widdowson & Howard, 2013, p. 9). The key problem I continue to grapple with
is whether or not Aboriginal education can truly (co)exist in western education?

Indigenous Teaching and Learning

This question has led me on a quest to explore a range of concepts related to lea-
dership, knowing and practice, and, in particular, how a better understanding of
such concepts might benefit and/or better shape the future of Indigenous peoples’
education in Canada. Many Indigenous and non-Indigenous scholars, such as
Basso (1996), Battiste (2013), Cajete (1994), Cruikshank (2005), Ermine (1995),
Fixico (2003), Goulet and Goulet (2014), Little Bear (2000) and Smith (1999), to
name a few, are writing about and remembering the oral traditional practice of
Indigenous teaching and learning. Much of their findings refer to Indigenous ways
of knowing and therefore leading, and how to approach education as it was before
Western education. Battiste (2013) stated:

An over whelming number of authors, international and interdisciplinary, acknowledge and
agree on the holistic framework of Indigenous epistemologies that are foundation to
Indigenous peoples. Holistic thinking incorporates the unity of spiritual and physical worlds,
which may have had a role in some parts of Western Euro-centric thinking as well. (p. 76)

The notion of (w)holistic thinking is an interaction of all four dimensions
of being—physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. All four dimensions
are encouraged and guided by Indigenous ways of learning and teaching.
For example, the Cree word onikanêw is not just one word with one meaning, but

20 onikanêw: ‘She Who Leads’: Learning to Lead in Education 281

a multifaceted-word with many different meanings; it all depends on the context it

is being used in, and for what purpose. onikanêw for example means she/he who
leads, the meaning of mother/mom is ‘nika’, short for nikawiy. ‘nikan’ is another
word which means to be ‘in front of’ (a pack or group) to lead, and ‘nik’ is short
for ‘nikihk’, which means my home. All of these meanings are in that one word:
onikanêw. A mother represents all of this. The term for woman is iskwe¯w, which is
also related to fire, which in Cree is iskotêw. These two words, iskwe¯w and iskote¯w,
are closely related. Another correlation to iskwe¯w and iskote¯w is the term ‘door’
way, the Cree word iskwate¯m, referring to woman as she gives life and who is also
the fire tender. It is the woman’s role to keep the home fires burning; and to provide
emotional support and physical warmth for everyone in the home/tipi. Mary Lee, a

respected knowledge keeper and elder in the community, shared this story with me.

Mother as Teacher

The woman’s home, and in particular the doorway, symbolizes life, and is the only
entry into the home. This is how I know that our women were the original leaders
of the home and community because everyone needs to pass through the entry of
the home to gain access. It is in examining the lexicon of Cree that we find that the
history and philosophy of who we are as ne¯hiyawak is in the language.

Another term ok¯ıcitaw iskwe¯wak, known as a society of warrior women, also
speaks about the many leadership deeds our women carried out in more traditional
times. Women Lodges were just as important as the Sweat Lodges where impor-
tant discussions were being made about the well-being of communities, as well as
prayer and womanly teachings. Women were, and still are, the original warriors of
our communities.

Smith (1999) suggested that to honour the word ‘onikanêw’, and its meaning,
is best done by positioning myself as an Indigenous woman. In doing so, I am (re)
claiming a genealogical, cultural and political set of experiences that links me
directly to my unique identity as an Indigenous woman (p. 12). As a consequence,
I can now see how aspects of lineage, land and language enable me to become
stronger and more determined when claiming my identity. Similarly, I’m better
able to serve the students I teach, as well as to be more confident in my role as a
mother, and as an Indigenous woman learning to lead in education. I believe that
developing a collective narrative situated in a historical perspective helps us to
remember, resist, standup and voice our teachings with greater purpose and clarity.
We as Indigenous peoples no longer have to accept things as they are.

Spiritual and Physical Guides

Through my grandparents’ teachings, I found my sense of purpose; whereby I was
able to develop the characteristics of the onikane¯wak. ‘The knowledge embedded
in the language, and the interrelationship formed in the learning from animals,

282 B. Daniels

plants, spirit guides, and the ecology’ (Battiste, 2013, p. 150) provided me with a
relational and holistic hub to be Cree. At a young age, I was given a message
from the spirit world, and I have held this message sacred ever since. It was
shortly after my Grade 12 graduation. I was lying in bed sleeping and was awa-
kened by a presence in the early morning hour. At the foot of my bed, hovering,
was a tiny flame of light. I was unsure of what to do. I panicked and became frigh-
tened. I wanted to scream and jump out of bed, but nothing came out of my mouth
and my body froze. I could not move. The tiny flame began to grow into a full sil-
houette of a person. It had no wings, it resembled a light being. It spoke to me but
not with words; it communicated directly to my mind. I was able to communicate
with my thoughts and the ‘light being’ understood. I was astonished. My fear
began to dissipate and a calmness began to set in my body. The light being com-
municated that I was not to fear anything and it was here to give me a message. I
asked, ‘A message from whom?’ The message was coming from my mother! I
began to cry, but it was with tears of immense joy. While I was crying, I became
filled with love from my head to my toes. My whole body vibrated with a tingling
sensation. I then wondered why did my mom not come to visit me? The light
being communicated to me said, ‘that it did not matter and that my mother has
always watched over me and guided me at every turn when I felt I needed her the
most’. The light being continued to communicate that, I was to help my siblings
(my cousins with whom I was raised) and to guide my brothers and sisters. I said
I would. In that instance, the light being began to shrink into a tiny flicker of light,
hovering at the foot of my bed until the light went out. I laid there in complete
amazement, awe and joy. To this day I wonder if that was a dream, but it could
not have been. I still remember vividly that sacred moment and I share this story
with my children, family and students when wanting to instil in them the notion
that there is something more to our lives beyond what we know. Teaching and
leading in education has been about guiding my brothers and sisters, something I
had not considered until more recently.

Today, the art of visioning and dreaming appears to have been forgotten by so
many; however not by me. I share this story with those close to me and, most
importantly, with my students because I see some have lost their way. I tell this
sacred story because Indigenous knowledge ‘is still there, often revealed to us in
the form of stillness, silence, prayers, and dreams to stir and revive our faith to
help students and young people remember who they are’ (Daniels, 2014, p. 108).
Storytelling is also a cultural practice in regaining who we once were, and who
we still are.

Learning and Growing

This quest for leadership, knowing, being and most importantly language revitaliza-
tion came to me shortly after graduating with my Bachelor of Education in 1998.
Since then, my experiences have been filled with wondrous opportunities. I know

20 onikanêw: ‘She Who Leads’: Learning to Lead in Education 283

what I know ‘because we believe we are spiritual beings having a physical experi-
ence. I have heard this phrase said time and time again. Ceremonies are a form of
acknowledgment and connection to the spirit world, an acknowledgment that we
are all one’ (Daniels, 2014, p. 107). I must give back. I know education and knowl-
edge is a social responsibility; it is expected when a higher education has been
obtained to contribute to the community. Again, this is a cultural practice that
enables us to be stronger and wiser, especially when we remember we are all one.

The idea of wanting ‘change’ was apparent to me at a young age. I always
knew what I wanted. Growing up in a faith-based family helped develop an inner
awareness that I was more than what people saw of me on the outside. I was also
raised in a family where work was consistently on my grandfather’s mind and
where the Indian Act severely impacted his ability to make an adequate living. At
one time in my grandfather’s life, he owned a farm, but what was the point if you
could not do anything with it or make a profit from it? My grandfather eventually
sold everything (Daniels-Fiss, 2005).

Although I grew up in Canada in the 1970s and 1980s, we lived in conditions
similar to a third world country, with no running water and heat from a wood-
stove. I was also subjected to the harsh effects of unclean drinking water, and was
never vaccinated or immunized until much later on in life. Although we were
poor, my grandparents provided us with security, discipline and compassion.
‘They also role-modeled the importance of faith, hard work, and love’ (Daniels,
2014, p. 106). This is where I learned the value of hard work and to always do my
best. In parenting, I use the following example to explain the nature of discipline
concerning Indigenous children:

In the old days discipline on children was practised. However, in maintaining discipline,
physical or other methods of force were never used. This was accomplished by communi-
cation, talking to the children, and using examples such as experiences, to bring the point
across. Children were often taught through their own experiences, on the rights and
wrongs under the guidance of the parents. (Native Studies, 2002, p. 162)

I believe it takes a significant amount of experience and wisdom, and guidance
to raise a family and to be a family. Communication and time are also important
factors that attribute to a loving dynamic of parenting.

My Beginnings

I grew up in a small community, north of Prince Albert, known as Sturgeon Lake
which most Cree speaking people refer to as pakitahwaka¯n sa¯kahikan (Net-
Casting Lake). During the time of Treaty-making, our band was known by others
as ‘The Upstream People—natimiwiyiniwak’ (Christensen, 2000, p. 75). For those
who do not know Sturgeon Lake, we are situated by a river. This is an example of
how language and land, the place I belong, are intertwined as a part of my iden-
tity. I was raised on the Reserve by my maternal grandparents because my mother,
nikawiy, was killed in a drinking and driving accident when I was only four years

284 B. Daniels

old. My father, nohtawiy, like so many others from his generation, struggled with
alcoholism. Both of my parents and my grandparents attended residential school,
the effects of which still affect my life today, in subtle kinds of ways, such as
expressing love. Trust comes hard to give, but I do. However, continuing to learn
more about who I am as Indigenous Cree woman has led me closer to forgiveness
about the past misgivings and, yes, ultimately happiness.

It was in my impressionable years seeing my grandparents practise faith and
hope through intention that helped me through as a teen growing up in the city.
Before living in the city, I had never experienced racism and other harsh realities of
life such as hopelessness, deprivation, instability and distress. Although I encoun-
tered obstacles, like insecure housing, drugs and discouraging teachers, faith in my
abilities was what helped pull me through the most challenging and difficult times
in my life. Despite all the odds, I did graduate from high school and, in doing so, I
gave myself a chance do well in life. Fortunately for me, there were a couple of tea-
chers who took a genuine interest in what I thought I might like to do once I fin-
ished, and were prepared to listen. ‘While in school, nothing in the education
curricula really supported Aboriginal history and literature, not to mention the
diverse Aboriginal languages. These individuals helped me to cope with this enor-
mous deficiency in the high school curriculum’ (Daniels-Fiss, 2005, p. 10). As I
have come to realize, believing in a student, and their abilities can go a long way.

After high school graduation, however, I kind of walked around in a bit of a
daze, unsure of what was I going to do next. After about a year of working as a
clerical bookkeeper for the Greater Saskatoon Catholic School Division, I found
myself enrolling at the University of Saskatchewan. I started my post-secondary
studies, in a Bachelor of Education (B.Ed.) program with SUNTEP, known as the
Saskatoon Urban Native Teacher Education Program. I was successful in complet-
ing my B.Ed. degree in 1998. I learned a lot by being in the SUNTEP program. I
was with a support system of very good friends, I was able to learn how to
research history and find my lineage of ancestors; and most importantly, I was
able to also find and document where my last name ‘Daniels’ came from, which is
not original nor Indigenous. Instead, I found that my family name was closely
associated with the word, pe¯ miyo maskwa, meaning Good Bear Arriving. I have
since learned that the bear is good medicine, therefore a good name. I am very
thankful for my time in the SUNTEP program as it provided me with the opportu-
nity to learn more about who I am, my history, and to connect with my spiritual
side as an Indigenous Cree woman.

Many of my SUNTEP colleagues are now in various positions within the field
of education, working as superintendents, principals, consultants and of course
teachers. Among us, yet unspoken, is a silent pledge to abide by the philosophy
and principles of First Nations. We also continue to encourage and applaud each
other’s achievements for the betterment of our community, and our future.

My first year teaching assignment was in an inner city Aboriginal elementary
school known as St. Mary’s Elementary. It was no surprise. I think I am safe to
say my appointment was because I was First Nations and it was assumed that I
could relate to the students there. ‘I remember, I was mainly assigned to schools

20 onikanêw: ‘She Who Leads’: Learning to Lead in Education 285

that were highly populated with Indigenous students. However, I did not really
question these notions until much later in my teaching career’ (Daniels, 2014,
p. 105). Yes, we were the same colour and race but I did not have experience
relating to the multiple issues that come with poverty. I grew up in a secure and
loving environment until my mid-teenage years; I could not relate, nor did I know
anything about ‘living life on the edge’ (Battiste, 2013, p. 19).

The following fall, I was asked to teach the Cree language down the street at E.
D. (Edward Daniel) Feehan Catholic high school, the school from which I gradu-
ated. To my surprise, I had come full circle; however, at the time, I was only con-
versant in a few words of Cree. My grandparents purposely withheld the language
from me growing up; it ‘was not seen as essential to be spoken or passed on. It
was, in fact, considered a learning deficiency for learning Western education’
(Daniels-Fiss, 2005, p. 48). This idea of teaching Cree was an opportunity to con-
nect to my heritage and ancestry; I then started my graduate studies.

Education in Language

The language of Cree/nêhiyawêwin became my newfound passion. I took a course
in the language as a night class, and then I enrolled in two more courses. It was
then that I decided I may as well complete what I started—a Master’s degree in
Education. I completed 10 classes and obtained a Post-graduate Diploma in
Education, followed by a master’s project in the area of language acquisitioning
and methodology. For the last 12 years I have been doing summer Cree language
acquisitioning camps, workshops, mini-programs and presentations. I have also
been teaching myself how to speak Cree ever since. I believe that learning my lan-
guage is my connection to pride, heritage and place. I also believe that the meanings
and teachings in our language guides and reveals who we are as ne¯hiyawak (Cree
people). It also supports our people to recognize and uphold levels of kinship, not
only with each other but with all living things. As we are all related, there are nat-
ural laws in place to keep the balance of life, according to McAdam (2015):

Language is critical in understanding the spiritual, verbal, emotional and physical way of
ne¯hiyaw being. It is also said language carries a ‘vibration’ that connects it to the
Creator’s creations; thus, the singing and almost a humming sound while in a prayer state.
This vibration is a connection to all spiritual things, including the universe. In order to
understand wahkohtowin, the kinship terms provide the foundation toward respectful
boundaries, a law to prevent inappropriate actions, behaviors, and attitudes. (p. 63)

For us, this is knowing. LaFrance (2000) stated, ‘First Nations people have
long understood that education is a lifelong continuum of experience gleaned from
interaction with one another, with all of nature (seen and unseen), as well as with
all of the cosmos’ (cited in Castellano, Davis, & Lahache, 2000, p. 101).

My role in language development, theory and practice has been diverse. I
worked as a summer sessional teacher at the University of Alberta in the Canadian
Indigenous Literacy and Languages Development Institute; and I taught

286 B. Daniels

conversational Cree in the evenings at the University of Saskatchewan for eight
years. I also had the privilege to co-write the nehiyawewin language program
which was the first of its kind for Grades 10, 11, and 12. I currently teach full
time for the Saskatoon Public School Division whilst pursing a Ph.D. in
Interdisciplinary Studies at the University of Saskatchewan. Most importantly, I
am the founder of ne¯hiyawak Language Program Camp that has been ongoing for
the last 12 years. When I think about my formal education, my grandparents did
the right thing by withholding the language from me; it has made me even more
determined to speak Cree fluently and to be a language leader one day soon.
Despite all, not only am I determined but passionate about who I am as a ne¯hiyaw
woman.

Being an Indigenous woman under the Indian Act and striving to being an edu-
cator has had its challenges. I have also experienced racial discrimination towards
my desire to lead, and taking up the challenge or language revitalization and edu-
cational more generally. The effects of the Indian Act and its polices are still felt
deeply, and among countless others who look like me. Being a woman in the field
of education is not easy. I can look and examine both divisions in which I taught
in Saskatoon, and see minimal numbers of Indigenous principals and senior
administrators. I feel and see a sense of superiority and inferiority in that, as an
Indigenous woman, I can work for the system but not along with or on par with
the system. Being who I am, and working for a public education system, is both a
personal and political challenge—and times incredibly frustrating. St. Denis
(2011), a leading scholar on white privilege and anti-racist education has stated
that ‘the national politics of denial, resentment, and dismissal of Indigenous rights
and sovereignty is also repeated in public schools and detrimentally impacts the
work of Aboriginal Teachers’ (p. 312). It is a struggle of taking and making a
space of my own and creating learning spaces for Indigenous students that is
respectful and genuinely authentic when it comes to Indigenous learning.

The Indian Act: An Interruption to Indigenous Ways of
Knowing

As Indigenous peoples, our rights were included in how to respect each other as a
Nation to a Nation long before the Canadian numbered Treaties. However, our
goal as First Nations of achieving sovereignty remains consistently undermined by
the language inherent within the Indian Act of 1876. The Indian Act was estab-
lished in 1876 under Canadian Law, which had policies that ruled every aspect of
Indigenous life. The Act was extremely detrimental to the role of ne¯hiyaw women.
Traditionally, the law keepers are the ne¯hiyaw women, but with advent of the
Indian Act, the status of women and the illegalizing of ne¯hiyaw ceremonies effec-
tively removed those traditional rights and customary practices (McAdam, 2015,
p. 28). The impact of the ACT also obliterated the meaning of onikane¯w, she who
leads, along with the warrior women society. It also gave ‘a sense of how initial

20 onikanêw: ‘She Who Leads’: Learning to Lead in Education 287

colonial assumptions resulted in the drastic alteration of women’s influence and
social systems in a relatively short time’ (Hanson, 2009, paragraph 3).

As a consequence, women were pushed out of leadership roles due to the early
settlers’ view of their own women. For instance, many settlers held onto Victorian
beliefs that women were delicate and ill-equipped for hard labour, and thus viewed
Aboriginal women who worked the land as proof that Aboriginal men treated
women as inferior, for they were doing the men’s work. The power and agency of
Aboriginal women were invisible to them (Hanson, 2009, paragraph 10).
McAdam stated that traditionally women were:

gifted to carry the laws of the ne¯hiyaw nation, jurisdiction resided with the women, as
well at the time of Treaty making, it was the kihci ok¯ıcitaw iskwe¯wak who were stubborn,
determined, courageous and so compassionate they could look far into the generations
ahead to carry our people forward. (Paul, 2012)

From this position, and as carriers of our people, we intuitively know that
Indigenous women are the leaders, responsible for looking after our children’s
educational futures. As an Indigenous nation, the ne¯hiyawak, like so many other
nations, are at odds with the Federal government’s goals for education. It is
because women, Indigenous women, do not have a voice or the leverage to lead in
Indigenous education. Castellano, Davis, & Lahache (2000) stated, ‘Education is
one of the most important issues in the struggle for self-government, and must
contribute towards the object of self-government’ (p. 15).

Seek Truth, Inspire Action: I am Cree

ne¯hiyaw oma niya “ne¯hiyawak oma kiyanaw. We are the ne¯hiyaw. The ne¯hiyawak. Exact
body. Exact body of people …. Many people today know us as prairie Cree. We are part
of the great Plains Cree nation. (Christensen, 2000, p. 3)

I am a Cree woman. I come from a great nation that has been in existence since
the beginning. I am proud, I am strong, and I now remember who I am. I am
whole. My eyes are open to the old practices of my grandparents, their brilliance
and ingenuity has helped to always move me forward. To never break, to never
break down, but to always adapt and persevere. Their strength is what makes me
proud of my ne¯hiyaw life and identity. I know that I think differently, I know that
I see differently, I know that I feel differently and I know I pray differently.
Diversity is what makes me unique, it is what makes me feel alive and wondrous.

I know my place and sense of self comes from the earth. It is a large encom-
passing place. Where language and land meet, that makes up my identity. I see
that language revitalization is a renewal process to wake up our children, youth
and our students. I know that language revitalization can only come from our peo-
ple and recreate what once was in Indigenous knowing and being. It is a practice
we all must be doing in order to achieve what it was our great grandmothers and
great grandfathers wanted at the time of Treaties. I am ne¯hiyaw woman, I am tak-
ing my rightful place. I am learning to lead and that I shall lead.

288 B. Daniels

It is now, in my prayers and in the challenge I have taken on presently and for
the future, that Indigenous children have a ‘school’ to call their own, that resemble
language houses, land-based teachings, curriculum infused with Indigenous
thought from beginning to end, and where Indigenous peoples can self-determine
the kind of education that meets their goals and aspirations. It is also in my
prayers that these learning spaces are filled with ne¯hiyawak children speaking their
heritage language. It is my intention and my commitment that these students will
go on to high school and university with their language intact to be never forgot-
ten again. It is my intention and my commitment that they will remember their
place to stand tall and proud as onikane¯wak! Hiy hiy!

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The Price of Equity Working in Aotearoa
New Zealand Teacher Education: A Critical
Institutional Ethnographic Perspective

Paul Whitinui

Introduction

Indigenizing teacher education is a key strategy of many developed nations
throughout the world, and Aotearoa New Zealand is no exception. Presently, there
are 156 approved Initial Teacher Education (ITE) programmes, delivered as 80
qualifications by 25 providers (Ministry of Education, 2016). In Aotearoa New
Zealand, every university is required by the Education Council of Aotearoa New
Zealand, as well as the Committee on University Academic Programmes (CUAP)
to highlight very clearly how their teacher education programmes cater and sup-
port the inclusion of Ma¯ori inclusive pedagogies, and as part of upholding the
Treaty of Waitangi obligations signed in 6 February 1840, between Ma¯ori and the
Crown (Glynn, 2015). This also includes, presenting such proposals before the
New Zealand Qualifications Authority (NZQA), as well as, the Graduating
Teacher Standards (Ministry of Education, 2016).

Between 2012 and 2015, I had the unique privilege to oversee the professional,
academic and strategic direction of the Ma¯ori teacher education program based at
a tertiary institution in Aotearoa New Zealand. My role involved supporting colla-
boratively the growth and development of Te Ao Ma¯ori (i.e. Ma¯ori philosophies
and principles), Ma¯tauranga Ma¯ori (i.e. Ma¯ori ways of knowing and practices),
and Te Reo me nga¯ Tikanga (i.e. Ma¯ori language and culture—protocols and/or
processes) within and across three existing initial under-graduate teacher education
programmes—early childhood, primary (i.e. elementary and middle school), sec-
ondary (i.e. high school), as well as the Graduate Diploma of Teaching (endorsed
in early childhood, primary, and secondary education). The opportunity to work

P. Whitinui (✉) 291

Faculty of Education, University of Victoria, Victoria, BC, Canada
e-mail: [email protected]

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2018
P. Whitinui (eds.), Promising Practices in Indigenous Teacher Education,
DOI 10.1007/978-981-10-6400-5_21