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

292 P. Whitinui

alongside a team of dedicated and passionate teacher educators, programme
co-ordinators, as well as, leaders from across the University, was both inspiring
and invigorating. Similarly, and at the governance (i.e. cultural advisor) and curri-
culum level (i.e. inclusion of culturally responsive practices), I felt very optimistic
about the opportunity to support and build cultural competencies with/in and
across our current Initial Teacher Education programme(s). However, between
2013 and 2014 our institution underwent a significant management of change pro-
cess, resulting not only in the loss of 20 faculty/staff, but also the effective decon-
struction of my leadership role. Consequently, trying to balance the expectations
of the institution; both as a faculty member (i.e. teaching, research and service),
alongside creating culturally relevant and visible spaces for Ma¯ori Teacher
Education to further develop, in an already shrinking initial teacher education pro-
gramme became unsustainable.

The purpose of this chapter, however, is not intended to apportion blame, guilt
or shame to any one group, individual(s) or entity but rather to reflect on, and
share some of my own personal insights and experiences working in a conven-
tional teacher education programme in Aotearoa New Zealand. By critiquing
‘white-streaming’, as the dominant discourse in teacher education, and the impact
this had on the quality and delivery of culturally responsive teacher training will
be the key focus of this chapter (Urrieta, 2010). Urrieta (2010) describes this kind
of ‘white-streaming’ as integrating everything Indigenous so it becomes ‘normal-
ized’ to mainstream (i.e. dominant) ways of thinking, knowing and doing. As
Indigenous peoples, we are accustomed to experiencing neo-liberal-based polices
that support ‘white-streaming’, and that undermine the signing of the Treaty of
Waitangi (Glynn, 2015). The undervaluing of this relationship is perhaps even
more visible, in that, New Zealand students are not required to learn another lan-
guage despite, Ma¯ori language being an official language of Aotearoa New
Zealand, and has been since 1987. In an attempt to offset the ‘cultural blindness’
associated with the issues aforementioned, the Ministry of Education introduced
three key strategic culturally responsive working documents entitled: ‘Te
Hikoitanga—Pathway to Success (2008b)’, Ka Hikitia: managing for Success
(2008a) and Ta¯taiako: Cultural Competencies for Teachers Working with Ma¯ori
Learners (2011). The aim of these working documents is to help guide organiza-
tions to better evaluate their own levels of (bi)cultural responsiveness working
with Ma¯ori in various educational, and workplace settings (Ministry of Education,
2008b). In response to these working documents, as well as the various cut-backs
I experienced during my time in teacher education, I consulted, and had approved
a new online graduate course called: EDUX433: Living Indigenous Educational
Leadership. The online graduate course provided an innovative and alternative
space for students to not only reflect on their own educational leadership beliefs,
attitudes and practices working with Indigenous Ma¯ori learners, but the course
also asked students to develop a 30-hour teaching and/or learning initiative and/or
intervention, that included a teaching and/or learning assessment and evaluation
tool. The course allowed students to tap into what teachers and educators were
already doing in educational settings to improve educational outcomes for

21 The Price of Equity Working in Aotearoa New Zealand Teacher Education 293

Indigenous Ma¯ori learners. By having them focus on Indigenous leadership theory
really enhanced their understanding of how, and why they were doing what they
were doing. The development of the courses was a joint effort with Queen’s
University College of Education based in Kingston, Ontario, and as part of an
international curriculum grant I had approved in 2013. In many ways, this chapter
is as much personal as it is political, and is as much critical, as it is aimed at
re-positioning teacher education in Aotearoa New Zealand to be more (not less)
bi-culturally inclusive, purposeful and relevant.

Adopting a Critical Institutional Ethnographic Approach

The institutional ethnography (IE) approach was first developed by Dorothy E.
Smith and her students in the context of the North American women’s sociology
movements of the 1970s and 1980s (Smith, 1987). In more recent times, IE had
been extended to include the ‘sociology for people’ (Smith, 2005, 2006) alongside
a growing concern for the state of various political-economic contexts, as well as
sensitive to textual and discursive dimensions of social life (DeVault, 1999).
Furthermore, there has been less focus given to the different kinds of sociological
questions generated by administrative concerns, and a greater focus on the puzzles
of people’s everyday lives. For example, mapping the operation of ‘ruling relations’
in ways that people who are subject to specific regimes of power can now re-order
their thinking about ways to participate, or if necessary withdraw. This approach
now extends the opportunity to consider other substantive topics including the orga-
nization of health care, and social work practice, the regulation of sexuality, police
and judicial processing of violence against women, employment and job training,
economic and social restructuring, international development regimes, planning and
environmental policy, the organization of home and community life (Smith, 2006).
Another key aim underpinning IE research is to expose the ways that ideological
accounts of social problems perpetuate injustices, and inequalities in what people
do here and now. This is achieved by ‘mapping a moment in time’ and to evaluate
more closely where power lies, and who actually benefits in the relationship.
Invariably, being able to document these experiences, encounters and/or struggles
enables those most affected to understand their reality beyond what one feels.
Giroux (2016) describes this tension between the pursuit of excellence in academia
and the need to be heard, of value, and accepted more vividly:

Leadership in too many academic departments is empty, disempowering, and insular,
lacking any outward vision or sense of social responsibility. Mimicking the instrumental
logic of a business culture, too many administrators lack the vision, totality of knowledge,
or will to address what role the university should play in a democracy. Too many indivi-
duals are tied to endless committees, overwhelmed by the mediocrity they or others
endorse, and fearful of anyone who steps outside of the boundaries of bureaucratic confor-
mity and civility. Excellence has become part of an empty recruiting slogan that has little
do with the actual work or scholarship of faculty who are often punished or resented for
such work …. (2016, para. 3)

294 P. Whitinui

Under such circumstances, exile is a state that can just as easily be manipulated to pro-
duce a key element of the neoliberal university, which, as Noam Chomsky points out, is
‘designed to reduce labor costs and to increase labor servility’. (2016, para. 5)

New forms of faculty servitude that restrict and shut down spaces for dialogue,
scholarship, dissent and innovative quality teaching is particularly problematic
when economic considerations prevent opportunities for other ways of knowing,
doing and being (Giroux, 2016). In my leadership role, I often felt the need to cre-
ate an alternative or ‘third space’ to compensate for what I felt to be a lack of
belonging (or feeling on the margins) as an Indigenous person, while at the same
time showing compassion and respect for those conforming to the dominant institu-
tional discourse. In this way, IE provides a theoretical space for critical dialogue,
creative reflection and meaningful understanding that not only refuses to accept and
normalize what is, but also helps to re-imagine a more socially just future (Giroux,
2016). In the same way ‘decolonization’ seeks truth, justice and conciliation, IE
seeks to act as an ‘engaged dissenter’ to the internalized oppression and dominance
institutions seek to uphold. The implications of this approach also suggest that
social and cultural ‘activism’ helps to create alternative solutions to ways we can
decolonize teacher education from a critically informed perspective (Smith, 2014).

Decolonizing Education in Aotearoa New Zealand

The idea of ‘decolonizing education’ first emerged as an approach for overcoming
the domination of Indigenous territories by outside nations (Smith, 2003; Smith,
1999). It is deliberate in its ethical and moral premise, and motivated by reconcil-
ing the wrongs of the past related to years of oppression, racism, cultural ignor-
ance, acculturation, physical harm and punishment (or punitive measures) by the
colonizer. Fanon (1961/1963) stated that:

Decolonization, which sets out to change the order of the world, is, obviously, a pro-
gramme of complete disorder. But it cannot come as a result of magical practices, or of a
natural shock, or of a friendly understanding. Decolonization, as we know, is a historical
process: that is to say it cannot be understood, it cannot become intelligible nor clear to
itself except in the exact measure that we can discern the movements which give it histori-
cal form and content. (p. 63)

As the history of ‘white privilege’ tells us, maintaining power is based more on
policy and practices in place by successive governments, as well as, what educa-
tional professional leaders bring to schools, and teacher education programmes
(Crow & Scriber, 2014). It is indeed, ‘murky waters’ because the social-cultural
landscape of schooling and education are consistently changing to meet society’s
economic market, where ‘new forms of colonization’ aim to resist, and even ignore
ideas associated with the essence of Indigenous rights, and self-determination.
Similarly, and in a keynote address to the Alaskan Federation of Natives (AFN)
Convention in 2003, Professor Graham Hingangaroa Smith asked Indigenous peo-
ples to raise our own levels of critical and cultural consciousness to control what we

21 The Price of Equity Working in Aotearoa New Zealand Teacher Education 295

can, rather than continuing to position the aims underpinning decolonization—and
therefore, placing the colonizer back in the centre of our own thinking (Smith,
2003). The ‘politics of distraction’ surrounding the tensions associated with (de)
colonization works to keep control out of our hands, and in doing so, prevent us
from moving forward with what it is we seek to determine in education (Smith,
1997). Not only do we need to ‘confront the colonizer’, but more importantly we
need to ‘confront ourselves’ by critically analyzing what works well in schooling
and education, and what doesn’t (Freire, 1972; Smith, 2011). The need to centralize
the issue of ‘transforming education’ requires both a critical analysis, and a collective
response—together, both begin the process of change (Bidois, 2012; Smith, 2003).

Re-thinking the purpose of teacher education in Aotearoa New Zealand, as a mat-

ter of Indigenous survival, requires a critical approach. The 2010 annual reporting on

Ma¯ori education highlighted that although Indigenous Ma¯ori are achieving higher
pass rates at the high school level, the actual achievement gap between Ma¯ori and
non-Ma¯ori remains relatively the same as it was 10–15 years ago (Ministry of
Education, 2010). And as new gaps emerge in regards to who is, or isn’t receiving
access to quality education, and which schools are being properly resourced and/or
funded, and which aren’t, the scope and magnitude of the problems in education for
Indigenous Ma¯ori, remains far less clear. In the previous three Labour governments
led by Helen Clark between 1999 and 2008, extensive use was made of the ‘closing
the gaps’ mantra, with several reports assessing the progress of closing the economic
and social gaps between Ma¯ori and non-Ma¯ori populations (Ko¯kiri, 2001). However,
and despite the ‘good intentions’ associated with various culturally responsive initia-
tives or interventions, actually closing the achievement gaps between Ma¯ori and non-

Ma¯ori learners remained glaringly unacceptable.

Unpacking Neo-Colonial Discourses in Teacher Education

In 2011, Professor Graham Smith presented a seminar on ways for Indigenous
Ma¯ori to move forward in education during what eventually will become the post-
Treaty era. Of particular interest, he asked in what ways do new forms of coloni-
zation, at the intersection of cultural oppression and economic exploitation, pro-
mote the commodification (or domestication) of cultural knowledge? Smith
continued to describe eight neo-liberal tensions that continue to ignore the social
and cultural potential of Indigenous peoples around the world (Smith, 2014).
During my tenure, I could relate to five of these tensions that I consistently found
myself having to navigate, and included:

1. Equity: the illusion that a level playing field exists; and that Indigenous peoples
genuinely require more (not the same, or less) resourcing and funding to lift
the visibility of Ma¯ori-led initiatives, programmes and developments in the
area of teacher education;

2. Democracy: the illusion that we all have a ‘voice’; and that those in power will
protect the goals and aspirations of what we as Indigenous Ma¯ori seek to create

296 P. Whitinui

and deliver in the area of Ma¯ori teacher education based on our Treaty rights as
Ma¯ori;
3. Individualism: the belief that individual interests (i.e. those in power, and make
the decisions) are more important than the needs of the collective. The creation
of high-level single appointment (i.e. Associate Professor in Ma¯ori Teacher
Education) without a supportive and appropriate governance structure proved
to be counter-intuitive to the collective aspirations of Indigenous Ma¯ori, and
teacher education as whole;
4. Devolution: the illusion of power-sharing. Although, there was space for sug-
gestions, my leadership role had little or no decision-making power to create
and fully implement a distinct, dynamic, and excellent Ma¯ori teacher education
programme and
5. Choice: the illusion of having choice. In my leadership role, I found most of
my ‘choices’ were confined, and defined within boundaries of engagement
related to the organizational leadership structure underpinning the teacher edu-
cation programme.

In my experience, and in dialogue with my colleagues at the time, these sorts
of neo-liberal tensions are often upheld, and adjudicated through the confines of
monthly committee meetings, and institutional requirements (i.e. the constant pre-
occupation with attracting research funding and publishing) that help maintain the
‘status quo’ (i.e. dominant majority-led agenda). In 2015, Professor Angus
Macfarlane conducted a review of Ma¯ori education in Aotearoa New Zealand over
the past 50 years, where he asserted that:

In spite of the restlessness brought about by the impacts of colonization and the continued
dishonouring of our rights, many Indigenous cultures around the world have become
relentless in preserving the very fabric of their identity …. Consequently, a cultural renais-
sance and revitalization continues today despite a barrage of adversities. Ma¯ori, with
voices of reason, are now seeking to have greater participation in current organizational
structures, especially in reclaiming their rights to participate in governing, decision-
making processes and informing the theoretical underpinnings of professional practice
approaches in education. (Macfarlane, 2015, p. 189)

Contrary to popular opinion, that positive strides have been made in Ma¯ori educa-
tion, actually achieving an equitable bicultural society in Aotearoa New Zealand
remains elusive. In some cases, partnerships have been denied, and Indigenous initia-
tives and programming ‘watered-down’. Seemingly, neo-liberal tensions are based
more on an accumulative power-sharing model than what constitutes a distributive
partnership model, where the consensus and collective decision-making are funda-
mental to how decisions are formalized and determined (Smith, 2014). Although,
there has been a shift in more recent times to levels of flexible specialization,
increased innovation and adaptability, power imbalances continue to fragment how
leaders communicate various educational directives—especially in teacher education.
For example, various forms of information-communication, in today’s virtual age,
have effectively limited the amount of face-to-face interactions, and in doing so, lea-
ders are now more easily able to control levels of (mis)information-communication

21 The Price of Equity Working in Aotearoa New Zealand Teacher Education 297

from behind their desks via their computers. As a response, Indigenous peoples
working in academia have had to create other opportunities to address the following
questions, and to do the work that is deeply necessary:

• Where does power lie, who benefits most from this arrangement?
• How can we express our Indigenous rights (i.e. human, sovereign, civil, tribal,

and Treaty) to achieve a partnership that is just and equitable?
• In what ways, can Indigenous peoples respond and/or react to these power

imbalances, and/or lack of privilege in conventional higher educational
contexts?
• In what ways, can Indigenous peoples strategically disrupt the dominant institu-
tional ideologies that ignore, resist or marginalize Indigenous ways of knowing,
doing and being in teaching and learning?

New Zealand’s founding document, the Treaty of Waitangi includes three key
principles—partnership, protection and participation which are underpinned by
three key articles—tino rangatiratanga (i.e. to be empowering, autonomous and
self-determining), kawanatanga (i.e. to relate and connect with the past, present
and future) and oritetanga (i.e. to behave respectfully, honestly, and with integrity)
(Kawharu, 1989). The Treaty also provides the cultural markers and mechanisms
for achieving equity in our schools, and education more broadly. Further interpre-
tation suggests, that the Treaty has the mandate and can provide opportunities to
live, learn and work together as a bicultural nation (Bishop & Glynn, 1999). Since
the 1980s, the development of alternative schooling such as Ko¯hanga Reo (immer-
sion language nests), Kura Kaupapa Ma¯ori (immersion language elementary-
middle learning contexts), Whare Kura (immersion language secondary learning
contexts) and now Wa¯nanga (Indigenously-led post-secondary learning contexts)
are transformational examples of how Indigenous Ma¯ori in Aotearoa New Zealand
have worked to control what constitutes successful schooling and education from
their own Indigenous perspectives (Smith, 1997). These kinds of schooling and
educational alternatives have not only helped to revitalize Indigenous Ma¯ori lan-
guage and culture, but also highlighted how bilingual and bicultural education cre-
ates a level playing field for ‘Ma¯ori to be successful in the world as Ma¯ori’.

Educational national documents such as Ka Hikitia: Managing for Success—
Ma¯ori Educational Strategy (2008), and Ta¯taiako: Cultural Competencies for
Teachers of Ma¯ori Learners (2011) provide a broad range of culturally responsive
approaches to help schools and teachers better engage with Ma¯ori families, and
their children and in the classroom (Ministry of Education, 2008a, 2011).
Evidence collected over the past 10 years suggests that schools and teachers are
not only making a difference in how Ma¯ori students achieve, but also improving
the quality of teaching and learning for all students—especially in the areas of lit-
eracy and numeracy levels, as well as improved levels of engagement in the class-
room (Bishop, 2008; Bishop, Berryman, Wearmouth, & Peter, 2012; Bishop &
Glynn, 2003; Bishop & Tiakiwai, 2003). However, and despite the various aca-
demic successes reported for Ma¯ori students over the past 10 years, achieving con-
gruence between the time pre-service teachers spend learning about cultural

298 P. Whitinui

responsive pedagogies (let alone addressing their own cultural biases), and what
Ma¯ori wha¯nau seek for their children’s in conventional elementary schools, tends
to vary greatly, with no guarantee that teachers will change their practices working
with Indigenous Ma¯ori learners. The problem appears to stem from an unrealistic
performative expectation that non-Indigenous teachers can become culturally com-
petent working with Indigenous Ma¯ori. This kind of linear thinking of what we
expect teachers and schools to have to do to be culturally competent has unfortu-
nately, set up a ‘them and us’ dichotomy that has also created competing para-
digms in teacher education related to whose ‘culture counts’. Similarly, the
cultural backlash related to becoming culturally competent has created tensions
and uncertainty within schools about whose job it is to teach these cultural proto-
cols, principles and practices, and to what standard?

As we have come to know there is no one solution or way to addressing these
ongoing problems, however, in Canada, where I am currently based at the
University of Victoria, there has been a greater buy-in to the idea of health profes-
sionals working to become culturally safe (i.e. focused on unpacking the colonial
ideology (worldview), understanding different stereotypes (commonly held
beliefs), prejudice (attitudes towards Indigenous peoples) and discrimination (what
behaviours are acted out towards Indigenous peoples) alongside humility training,
and is an accredited programme (Daniels, 2016). The buy-in and success of this
programme across the health sector has been unprecedented with thousands now
reporting the benefit of having done the programme, and how it has directly chan-
ged their thinking and practices working with Indigenous patients.

In 2008, the Ministry of Education in Aotearoa New Zealand introduced ‘Te
Hikoitanga-Pathway to Success’ in 2008 (Ministry of Education, 2008b) to help
organizations to better evaluate their cultural practices working biculturally.
Although, many teacher education organizations hold varying levels of autonomy
in what they are able to provide for pre-service teachers, adopting and/or blending
culturally responsive practices across all areas of teaching and learning (i.e. curri-
culum and instruction) in teacher education programmes could perhaps benefit
from what is happening in Canada around cultural safety (as opposed to seeing
oneself as culturally competent in someone else’s culture) and humility (seeing
Indigenous values more so as ‘wise’ practices as opposed to ‘best’ practices).

Te Hikoitanga: Pathway to Success

Te Hikoitanga aims to provide a culturally responsive plan for practitioners, ser-
vice teams and whole organizations to be successful in delivering relevant educa-
tional services to Ma¯ori (Ministry of Education, 2008b). Responsive services are
also defined as those that take a Ma¯ori potential approach by acknowledging the
rights of tamariki (Ma¯ori children) and wha¯nau (family unit) to help determine
the best service outcomes for them. Te Hikoitanga also challenges educators to
think differently about their individual practice, teams and organizational

21 The Price of Equity Working in Aotearoa New Zealand Teacher Education 299

management and systems (Ministry of Education, 2008b). It builds on much of
the culturally responsive work others have progressed over the past 20 years
(Bishop & Glynn, 2003; Macfarlane, Glynn, Cavanagh, & Bateman, 2007;
Whitinui, 2011) and is both, aspirational and self-determining. Te Hikoitanga:
The Journey also aims to support organizations to adopt four culturally preferred
principles that can inform not only ways to achieve success working with Ma¯ori
families and their children, but that can also help lift an organization’s own level
of bicultural efficacy and development—both personally and professionally, and
include:

1. Te Hokitanga: pathway to Success—Student Success;
2. Ako: developing professional and cultural capability—Personal Success;
3. Whanaungatanga: teams, responsive and accountable to wha¯nau—Team

Success and
4. Mahi Tahi: leadership, responsive and accountable, working together—

Organizational Success.

Although, the plan was initially designed to enable Ministry of Education spe-
cialist staff to deliver better educational services to Ma¯ori families, and their chil-
dren, the plan also speaks to ways teacher education as an organizational service
entity can improve their service—both socially and culturally. The lack of space
and time afforded to implementing culturally responsive teaching and learning in
teacher education programmes today highlights the ongoing competing percep-
tions, beliefs and values related to what constitutes ‘culture’ in teacher education
(Bishop et al., 2012). Unfortunately, achieving bicultural accountability in teacher
education programmes remains open to social and cultural interpretation by the
dominant culture and therefore, Indigenous ways of knowing, doing and being in
teacher education programmes remain susceptible to strategies of assimilation and
integration. Perhaps teacher education entities choosing to engage in Te
Hikoitanga, as a self-review process, may help to ensure bicultural practices
become more the norm, rather than the exception. Despite the ongoing resistance,
I experienced towards the ideas associated with Indigenous education, I did gain
approval to teach a new online post-graduate course entitled: Living Indigenous
Educational Leadership. This course also provided a space for students to critique
the value of Indigenous Ma¯ori practices, protocols and principles in the teacher
education, as well as engaged students to explore Indigeneity from an Indigenous
educational leadership perspective(s) more widely.

Living Indigenous Educational Leadership—Creating an
Indigenous Intuitive Space in Teacher Education

The Living Indigenous Educational Leadership course was first taught in colla-
boration with Queen’s University, Kingston, Ontario, in their existing Aboriginal
Teacher Education programme. It was also the first of its kind to be offered in our

300 P. Whitinui

existing teacher education programme. Five objectives underpinned the nature and
scope of the course, and included:

1. Support the growing number of new and emerging Indigenous leaders currently
working in a variety of educational settings locally, nationally and internationally;

2. Support current educational leaders to build or improve educational based suc-
cess and outcomes working with Indigenous learners, and their communities;

3. Help explain various contemporary and traditional Indigenous leadership the-
ories, methods, and practices that are likely to make a difference working with
Indigenous peoples in a variety of educational and schooling contexts;

4. Grow and develop critically informed educational leaders who understand the
educational needs and aspirations of Indigenous peoples, and their commu-
nities, and

5. Meet the professional learning and development needs of a diverse group of
leading educational professionals who work with Indigenous learners to help
meet their social and academic aspirations.

Presently, there is a dearth of research and scholarship related to what constitu-
tes effective Indigenous educational leadership, and as it pertains specifically to
teacher education. Therefore developing and encouraging more Indigenous educa-
tors into leadership is not only necessary but pivotal to what happens for
Indigenous Ma¯ori in all areas of schooling and education (Katene, 2013; Kenny &
Fraser, 2012). Although the course tended to draw more so on literature pertaining
to Indigenous educational leadership in Aotearoa New Zealand, it also drew on
international literature, where Indigenous peoples from around the world share
similar educational leadership experiences—such as, Canada, Alaska, Hawaii,
Australia, Norway, America, South America, Africa and Asia. The justification for
developing such a course was two-fold, in that, it aimed to increase the visibility
and relevancy of Indigenous leadership theory and approaches at a post-graduate
level, and secondly, it provided the opportunity for other disciplines to add it as
an elective to their Masters, or Honors programme(s) of study. Despite, however,
a genuine willingness by many staff and faculty in this institution to grow
Indigenous Ma¯ori related courses competing differences—philosophically and
politically, stifled many attempts to do so. In addition, and having worked in three
New Zealand universities since 2007, I have not only witnessed a cutting back of
Indigenous-Ma¯ori-based programming in teacher education, but also a total
‘whitewashing’ of previously held Indigenous staff positions—where Indigenous
staff who leave are not replaced. The solution, unfortunately, is structurally com-
plex, in that, as Indigenous peoples we know that it can take years to build up a
credible and sustainable programme of teaching, scholarship and research; and
yet, in no time at all, Indigenous programmes and staffing can be dismantled, see-
mingly overnight. As Indigenous peoples, we also understand how important it is
to have an Indigenous advisory or governance group to consult with and who can
help prioritize what we need to grow a vibrant, dynamic and excellent Indigenous
teacher education programme. When these groups are compromised by senior
University wide level appointments, and/or internal politics and staff cut-backs; it

21 The Price of Equity Working in Aotearoa New Zealand Teacher Education 301

begs the question, why are our Treaty-based rights being denied in institutions
that have mandated in their constitutions that they will work to honour those rights
and provide equal access to the same rights and privilege as our Treaty partners?
It seems an obvious contradiction that warrants a much wider discussion than this
chapter has space to circumvent.

As a way of maintaining this relationship, a Ma¯ori Teacher-Language
Educational Strategic Framework (2013–2020) was developed and agreed to by
the Ma¯ori Advisory Group in 2013. It was very much a working document that pro-
vided opportunities for collaboration, dialogue and potential development. The
advisory group consisted of eight University staff members, and included: Director
of Ma¯ori Development, Associate Dean Teacher Education, Associate Dean Ma¯ori
of Humanities, School of Ma¯ori, Pacific and Indigenous Studies representative(s),
Ma¯ori Student Development Tumuaki (director), College of Education Ma¯ori staff
representative, College of Education Kaia¯whina (pastoral care) staff representative
and myself, as the Associate Professor in Ma¯ori Teacher Education (see Fig. 1).

The suggestion of including Te Hikoitanga, as an organizational professional
development and self-review framework alongside a new post-graduate online
Indigenous educational leadership also helped to meet some of the goals outlined,
as well as helped the College of Education to better evaluate the overall effective-
ness working with, for and alongside iwi/Ma¯ori in teacher education. At the same
time, I felt there was a desperate need to unpack the dominant teacher education
discourse, and to be a voice of reason in how we might all move forward together.
It was certainly a greater challenge than I had initially envisaged, in that, navigat-
ing social change required an inclusive approach—sometimes we (as a collective)
agreed and were successful in our deliberations, but mostly, we were not.

Where to from Here?

This chapter has attempted to reflect on some of the underlying personal and poli-
tical challenges I faced working in a conventional initial teacher education pro-
gramme, based in Aotearoa New Zealand between 2012 and 2015. The decision
to adopt an institutional ethnographic approach sort to map a number of ‘ruling
relations’ (Smith, 2006) to better understand the impact of these influences on my
leadership role; that effectively determined how ‘Ma¯ori’ the Ma¯ori Teacher
Education programme would be. ‘White streaming’ in teacher education is not
new, but nonetheless its ideology continues to undervalue the importance of bicul-
turalism in New Zealand tertiary education contexts, and in particular, teacher edu-
cation (Glynn, 2015). It also continues to ‘ring-fence’ Indigenous aspirations
through a process of institutional compliance (i.e. teaching, tenure and research
outputs) and regulated servitude (i.e. scheduled meetings, administrational daily
communication, time on committees and reporting). The Ministry of Education’s
Ka Hikitia (2008a) and Ta¯taiako (2011) documents, however, are clear reminders
that despite the ‘good intentions’, teacher education in Aotearoa New Zealand is

302 P. Whitinui

Maori (Teacher/Language) Education Strategic Framework
(2013–2020)

Vision Te manu e kai i te miro, nona te ngahere,
Mission Te manu e kai i te matauranga, nona te ao.

The bird who feeds from the miro tree owns the forest,
the bird who feeds on the knowledge owns the world.

Serving lwi/Maori through
Education and Development

Overall GOAL 1 GOAL 2 GOAL 3 GOAL 4 GOAL 5
Strategy Advancement of Strengthening Honouring Te Enhancing Improving the
Tiriti o Waitangi Maori Research visibility/profile
Goals lwi/Maori Community Capacity & /presence of all
Educational Engagement Creative Works things Maori in
Guiding Aspirations
Principles CoE

Te Arahina Te Te Te Tipuranga- Nga Nga Toanga
Leadership Honohono Rangahau Growth & Whakahaerenga Tuku lho
Partnerships
Maori Development pai Language &
Research Quality Culture
Programmes

Approaches Taking action on the conditions that create
and improve educational outcomes for

iwi/Maori. Different ways of working for the
educational sector and its partners

Strategies Strengthen Create Supportive Building Levels of
for Educational Environments for Cultural Competency
Community lwi/Maori to Achieve Across all Programmes
Action Partnerships and Educational Success including Te Reo me
lwi/Maori Resilience
nga Tikanga

Priority Curriculum Pedagogy Professional Research Community Aspirations
Areas for Content – Teaching of Practice Post-graduate Inclusivity and Visibility
What we Students – culture – How
Action teach and How we teach Students as are we growing – How are we
Teachers – a distinct and addressing the
why? What we How do our vibrant research educational needs and
know? students practice aspirations of our
being teachers? culture? iwi/Maori community?

Fig. 1 College of Education Ma¯ori (Language/Teacher) education strategic framework (2013–2020)

long way off achieving the cohesive society our ancestors envisaged when they
signed the Treaty of Waitangi back in 1840. For many, the task ahead is to find
ways to increase the relevancy, visibility and spaces where Te Ao Ma¯ori (Ma¯ori
world views and principles), Ma¯tauranga Ma¯ori (Ma¯ori knowledge and practices)
and Te Reo me nga¯ Tikanga (Ma¯ori language and cultural protocols) can be taught
without the fear of racial and/or institutional discrimination. The need to uphold a

21 The Price of Equity Working in Aotearoa New Zealand Teacher Education 303

Treaty-based framework in teacher education is not only necessary in ensuring we
can protect and maintain Indigenous Ma¯ori peoples’ identity, language and cul-
ture, it also ensures the next generation of teachers can cherish the unique history
and heritage of what it means to be a New Zealander. In teacher education, it is
everyone’s responsibility to include Indigenous peoples’ language, history, stories
and culture as a core requirement for all graduating pre-service teachers in
Aotearoa New Zealand. Today, and with the various cut-backs happening within
New Zealand teacher education programmes, Indigenous Ma¯ori teacher education
remains in a very precarious position, and at risk of sinking into obscurity.
Professor Graham Smith (2014) reminds us that ‘we have come to know that
transformational change is not a linear process, but rather, it operates as an inclu-
sive model of change that operates in multiples sites of the struggle’ (Smith, 2011,
2014). Therefore, we must continue to seek out opportunities that will benefit our
communities as Indigenous peoples, and remain committed to the work of ‘trans-
forming education’. Only then, will we feel we have greater control over our edu-
cational destiny today, tomorrow, and into the foreseeable future.

Ka nui te ho¯pua, me keri te wai kia rere

The pool should be big, dig it until the water flows

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Index

A Community action/agency, 227
Community leadership, 216
Aboriginal epistemology, 122 Community-based, 13, 23, 108, 131, 185,
Accreditation, 15, 20, 108, 109, 116, 135, 271
Activism, 132, 143, 170–171, 294 189–202, 224, 229, 260, 261
Adult language learning, 240 Connection, 28, 37, 52, 64, 65, 66, 68,
ʻAha Pu¯nana Leo, 132, 134, 145
Alaska Native, 3, 11–24, 163 89, 92, 94, 190, 201, 230, 267,
Alaska Rural Teacher Training Corps 283, 285
Creator, 241, 247, 285
(ARTTC), 11, 12–13 Cree language program, 241, 245, 247
Alaska, 3, 11, 12, 14, 20, 22, 300 Cree language, 239, 240, 244, 245, 285
Aloha ʻA¯ ina, 252 Cree revitalization, 246–247, 280
Aloha kumu, 251–262 Cross-cultural educational development
Anishinaabe, 89, 94 program (X-CED), 13–15
Aʻoa¯kumu, 137, 140, 141, 142, 144 Cultural competency, 3, 44, 74, 75, 76, 132
Arts-based research, 212 Cultural identity, 31, 36, 113, 134, 136, 141,
Âtayôhkêwina, 243 165, 215
Australian Indigenous Languages Cultural practices, 60, 80, 115, 298, 299
Cultural understanding, 32, 43, 46, 64,
Framework, 177 227, 228
Authentic experience, 50–51 Culturally competent, 42, 45, 273, 298
Culturally responsive evaluation, 195
B Culturally responsive lessons, 168
Culture of hope, 195
Barnhardt, Carol, 11 Culture, 3, 5, 13, 28, 31, 36, 43, 46, 115,
Barnhardt, Ray, 11 123, 137, 158, 160, 164, 168, 171,
Boarding schools, 222, 279 179, 180, 185, 222, 229, 231, 261,
297, 303
C Culture-based, 132, 137, 139, 141, 142, 255
Curriculum design, 42, 53, 142, 193, 266
Canadian Indigenous Languages and Literacy Curriculum, 13, 14, 20, 27, 32, 34, 35, 38, 43,
Development Institute (CILLDI), 4, 119 51, 53, 54, 62, 65, 79, 90, 92, 98, 108,
124, 125, 126, 141, 158, 164, 167,
Cohort, 12, 16–17, 18, 58, 107, 140, 153, 159, 185, 191, 197, 210, 216, 224, 229,
164, 165, 166, 170, 192, 195, 213, 237, 238, 272, 279, 292, 298
259, 260, 261 Customs, 73

Collaboration, 2, 5, 6, 45, 51, 52, 67, 82, 111,
132, 133, 139, 143, 180–181, 183, 222,
225, 226, 229, 269, 273, 275, 299, 301

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2018 305
P. Whitinui (eds.), Promising Practices in Indigenous Teacher Education,
DOI 10.1007/978-981-10-6400-5

306 Index

D 214–216, 219, 226, 261, 265, 269,
270, 272, 273, 274, 279, 287, 299
Dahwe-mak, 121–122 Indigenous knowledge systems, 128, 210, 211
Decolonization, 91, 215, 251, 252, 256, Indigenous language programs, 190, 191, 237
Indigenous language teaching methodologies, 6
294, 295 Indigenous languages, 2, 4, 6, 32, 35, 91, 105,
Degree, 12, 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 27, 37, 50, 63, 106, 115, 119–128, 184, 185, 190,
191, 192, 193, 195, 198, 202, 238,
72, 107, 109, 111, 113, 114, 116, 149, 245, 247
152, 153, 166, 191, 194, 202, 239 Indigenous research methodology, 251
Dene Language Program, 191 Indigenous Studies, 19, 89, 191, 301
Development, 5, 30, 47, 51, 60, 79, 82, 92, Indigenous teachers-training, 2, 4–5, 6, 190
126, 150, 202, 233, 242, 245, 267, Indigenous worldviews, 92
269, 271, 273, 291, 295, 299, 300 Indigenous, 2, 274
Diné language, 5, 163–172 Indoctrination, 258
Diné philosophy, 165, 169, 171 Initial Teacher Education, 3, 36, 71–83,
Dreaming, 282 107, 116, 149, 183, 185, 219, 291,
292, 301
E International law, 256, 257, 258

Engagement, 29, 45, 65, 66, 68, 69, 73, 74, K
81, 94, 140, 141, 165, 183, 233, 261,
269, 275, 296, 297 Ka Hikitia, 72, 74, 75, 78, 79, 81, 292,
297, 301
F
Kahuawaiola, 132, 137, 139, 140, 141, 142,
Field-based experiences, 22, 165 143, 144
First Nations, Métis and Inuit (FNMI), 124, 125
Funds of knowledge, 65, 66, 170, 171 Kâniyâsihk culture camps, 243, 244
Kaupapa Ma¯ori, 150, 151, 153, 155, 156,
G
158, 297
Graduate program, 139, 193, 239, 251–262 Kula kaiaʻo¯lelo-kaiapuni Hawaiʻi, 131, 132–134,
Graduate, 2, 6, 17, 18, 20, 42, 46–47, 106,
135, 136, 137, 139, 140, 143, 144
169, 192, 208, 223, 225, 254, 273 Kumu Honua Mauli Ola, 134, 135, 136, 137,
Gumbaynggirr, 5, 113, 175–185
138, 140, 141
H Kumu, 131, 132, 135, 137, 139, 143, 144, 255
Kura Kaupapa Ma¯ori, 151, 153, 156, 297
Honua Mauli Ola, 134, 135–136, 137, 138,
140, 141 L

Huarahi Ma¯ori, 4, 149–160 La¯hui Hawai’i, 6, 251–262
Land-based education, 241–244, 288
I Language and culture centres, 179
Language planning, 106, 125, 126, 128
Identity, 3, 28, 29, 34, 43, 44, 60, 64, 75, 113, Language policy, 119–128
163, 179, 189, 201, 271, 280, 281, Language proficiency building, 200, 201
283, 287, 296 Language revitalization, 5, 7, 125, 127, 132,

Immersion, 43, 45, 64, 120, 126, 151, 246 164, 191, 192, 193, 195, 198, 199,
Impact, 29, 33, 36, 49, 58, 62, 63, 67, 81, 201, 202, 244, 279, 280, 282, 286, 287
Language revival, 106, 110, 113, 115,
87–100, 114, 134, 215, 240, 267, 176–178, 179, 182, 183, 185
271, 286, 292, 301 Language teacher training, 2, 4–5
Indian Act, 120, 279, 283, 286, 286–287 Language(s), 6, 28, 32, 34, 73, 75, 76, 94,
Indian control of Indian education, 121, 105, 125, 136, 142, 155, 158, 164,
189, 190 168, 171, 177–178, 190, 201, 223,
Indigenous education, 2, 3–4, 7, 27–38, 49, 229, 238, 244, 245, 253, 256, 261, 303
52, 59, 71, 87–100, 108, 128, 135,
139, 144, 191, 199, 207, 208, 210,

Index 307

Language, 6, 28, 32, 34, 75, 76, 79, 94, 110, Pre-service teachers, 3, 4, 13, 23, 30, 34,
113, 114, 121, 125, 136, 137, 141, 35, 36, 50, 51, 57–69, 87–100, 114,
156, 158, 159, 164, 168, 171, 175, 298, 303
177, 178, 190, 197, 201, 223, 229,
261, 280, 281, 303 Privilege, 36, 89, 92, 95, 96, 99, 108, 127,
144, 286, 291, 297, 301
Leadership, 2, 7, 18, 43, 49, 57, 82, 154, 156,
172, 183, 216, 261, 275, 280, 281, Professional, 6, 42, 45, 49, 53, 57, 58,
282, 287, 293, 300 68, 112, 143, 165, 183, 221–233,
296, 299
Linguist, 125
Linguistics, 16, 105, 110, 113, 114, 178, R

191, 192 Reconciliation, 4, 31, 35, 36, 42, 46, 51, 53,
65, 66, 87, 123, 216, 271
M
Relations, 5, 108, 172, 221, 243, 251, 261,
Ma¯ori, 33 293, 301
Ma¯ori-medium education, 156
Master(’s), 82, 109, 110, 116, 132, 165–166, Relationships, 14, 16, 18, 22, 28, 29, 31,
36, 37, 42, 44, 50, 53, 59, 60, 64,
168, 182, 259 66, 67, 72, 74, 97, 127, 139, 212, 213,
Master-Apprentice, 122, 178 226, 227, 228, 229, 231, 233, 240,
Mauli, 136 241, 243, 251, 252, 253, 254, 261,
Mentor teacher, 132, 137, 139, 140, 141, 142, 262, 273

165, 166, 167–168, 172 Required course, 89, 93, 100
Mother, 27, 28, 170, 198, 208, 240, 242, 243, Research, 18, 43, 60, 63, 125, 168,

279, 281, 282, 283 175, 178, 184, 227, 239, 241,
Muurrbay Aboriginal Language and Culture 245, 251, 253, 259, 260, 267, 292,
300, 301
Centre, 179–180 Resilience, 169
Respect, 31, 32, 36, 37, 65, 66, 74, 115, 127,
N 168, 176, 183, 185, 294
Revitalization, 4, 5, 125, 144, 172, 222, 242,
Navajo language, 163, 164, 166, 169, 243, 247, 296
170, 171 Revival, 107, 108, 109, 110, 116, 178,
182, 183
Nêhiyaw research, 241
S
O
Scaffolding, 82, 142, 275
Occupation, 252, 256, 258, 296 Self-determination, 5, 24, 79, 134, 150, 218,
Opportunity, 1, 32, 37, 44, 51, 52, 59, 64, 66,
237–240, 251, 252, 256, 280, 294
68, 72, 74, 76, 77, 88, 92, 93, 96, 111, Social justice, 42, 44, 46, 53, 88, 90, 92, 96,
113, 114, 140, 151, 176, 183, 193,
197, 199, 201, 243, 247, 269, 273, 134, 150, 271, 274
284, 285, 291, 292, 293, 300 Stories, 5, 29, 33, 60, 125, 168, 196, 198, 214,

P 216, 219, 243, 246, 253, 303
Storytelling, 222, 251, 282
Papahana Kaiapuni Hawaiʻi, 133 Student-teacher attitudes, 32
Partnerships, 5, 50, 60, 75, 199, 202, 210,
T
211–213, 233, 260, 296
Pedagogical knowledge, 3, 58, 61, 64, 67–68, Ta¯taiako, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 78, 79, 80, 81,
292, 297, 301
135, 143
Pedagogical practices, 67, 68 Te Ao Ma¯ori, 74, 153, 156, 291, 302
Pedagogy, 29, 80, 88, 90, 95, 96, 98, 108, Te Hikoitanga, 292, 298–299, 301
Te Puna Wa¯nanga, 149, 152, 154, 155, 156
125, 128, 137, 144, 156, 166, 167, Te reo Ma¯ori, 79, 80, 81, 149, 151, 156,
169, 172, 271
Policy, 19, 34, 42, 53, 119–128, 202, 214, 158, 160
216, 267, 270, 271, 273, 275, 294

308 Index

Teacher education, 1–7, 20, 21, 22, 27, 33, 34, U
41–54, 60, 88, 105–117, 125–126,
133, 135, 144, 149–160, 164, 165, United Nations Declaration on the Rights of
180, 185, 189–202, 207–219, 233, Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), 238
265–275, 291–303
University of Alaska Fairbanks, 11–24
Teacher leader, 18, 164, 251–262
Teacher preparation, 11–24, 27, 30, 49, 119, V

135, 143, 221–233, 269 Values, 68, 72, 81, 83, 109, 122, 124, 128,
Tino rangatiratanga, 79, 150, 151, 155, 158, 158, 165, 168, 171, 210, 226, 255,
268, 299
160, 297
Traditional ceremony, 122 Visioning, 143, 282
Transformational change, 303
Treaty of Waitangi, 72, 78, 158, 291, 292, W

297, 302 Wa¯nanga, 74, 76, 78, 149, 150, 155, 156, 297
Treaty, 72, 73, 78, 128, 257, 296, 297 Well-being, 6, 38, 134, 137, 139, 144, 158,
Truth and Reconciliation Commission
170, 222, 262, 281
(TRC), 87, 119, 123, 125, 127, Woman, 279, 281, 286
128, 199, 238