Introduction

Education occurs within a political context. To understand how early childhood education (hereafter as ECE) has evolved in Aotearoa New Zealand, we must first understand this country’s historical context. Aotearoa New Zealand’s first immigration policy lies within Te Tiriti o Waitangi | The Treaty of Waitangi. Te Tiriti o Waitangi encompasses three articles and one verbal article written in 1840 in te reo Māori (Māori language). The Treaty of Waitangi, which was written in English in 1840, incorporates three articles. However, in The Treaty of Waitangi, a range of principles were further developed by the Royal Commission on Social Policy from 1988 (The Royal Commission on Social Policy, 1988).

It is from within this context that Te Whāriki (Ministry of Education, 1996), the world’s first bicultural early childhood curriculum, was developed. The relationship between Te Whāriki as a bicultural curriculum document and Te Tiriti o Waitangi needs to be understood. Should the curriculum be known as bicultural or as a Te Tiriti o Waitangi curriculum? As Dr Ranginui Walker (1986) wrote, “The Treaty of Waitangi can be interpreted as a charter for biculturalism” (p. 5).

As in many societies, and particularly for Indigenous peoples, it takes time for the ruling majority to become receptive to new ways of being. This has been the case in Aotearoa New Zealand when enacting bicultural practices. This process is ongoing and at times can still be a process steeped in disillusionment for Māori.

Thus, this article focuses on how the imperative embedded within Te Whāriki about making visible and affirming the value of te reo and tikanga Māori (Māori language and culture) is understood by the range of people involved in ECE settings and the extent to which the imperative is inextricably linked to the notion of biculturalism (Walker, 1986).

Our contention is that Te Whāriki is at the surface of understanding tikanga Māori. Research by Royal (2003) hones down to the kaupapa, which is the actual essence of the hui, while the tikanga is reflected in the implementation of the process. Using an Indigenous framework, the key questions in this research are: “What do kāhui kaumātua (wise elders) and tangata whenua (original inhabitants) want to see in local ECE programmes?” and “What needs to happen to have a confident bicultural ECE sector?” In this way, we sought to explore the wisdom of respected tangata whenua in guiding us to provide supported bicultural directions for future generations. Thus, this article has two aims that support each other. These are exploring an Indigenous framework and in particular kaupapa Māori research, which does not just operate to produce evidence concerning the question of bicultural education, it is essentially woven into the meaning and experience of bicultural education.

Our tamariki (children) in ECE services will be our future leaders in many different areas of our society. In this article, tamariki are defined as ngā pēpi (infants, newborn to 12 months), tamariki nohinohi (toddlers, 12–24 months), and tamaiti kōhungahunga (the young child, 2–6 years old), which encompasses the majority of our tamariki attending mainstream ECE services across the motu (country). However, the majority of our tamariki are in mainstream early childhood education services where the majority of the teachers are mono-lingual and mono-cultural (Gordon-Burns & Campbell, 2014)—two thirds are European while one tenth are Māori (Ministry of Education, 2022). This highlights the concern that the learning environments do not support tamariki Māori to learn as Māori. Thus, this article delves into the wisdom of three mature stalwarts of te ao (world) Māori and how they perceive what needs to happen to have a confident bicultural early childhood education sector in Aotearoa New Zealand. Alongside this, the views of tangata whenua (local/indigenous people) from five marae (social hubs of the local people) across Aotearoa New Zealand provide a unique community-based lens on bringing to life the bicultural curriculum in early childhood education services. Prior to the discussion of the perceptions of tangata whenua, the article first reviews literature on te reo and tikanga Māori, and kaupapa (philosophy and topic) Māori guiding the current research.

Literature

This review of the literature focuses on two areas that underpin understandings and applications of tikanga Māori.

Ngā tikanga tuku iho—Intergenerational Transmission of Ancient Concepts

In 2001, Hirini Moko Mead argued that although tikanga had become a term commonly used in Aotearoa New Zealand, understandings of what the word means differ significantly (Mead, 2001). This situation still applies today. Confusion regarding articulating the tikanga concept(s) that underpin the practice(s) is also ongoing. It seems that further education is needed to address these concerns. We also need to gain agreement on which of these concepts come from tikanga tuku iho (traditional practices) and which have developed in response to changes in the environments we all engage in.

Cultures develop practices or laws that create behavioural norms for society. In Māori culture, these norms and other iconic meanings associated with that culture are known as tikanga. Defining tikanga appears to have become a pastime of academics and commentators on Māori issues. Although these definitions differ to varying degrees, one of the constants appears to be the notion of rightness or correctness applied to the activities of Māori. These concepts arise from the root word tika, which Williams (1992) defines as “rule, plan, method, custom, habit, anything normal or usual, authority, control, correct, right” (pp. 146–147). These definitions give tika an informative function. However, when extended into the word tikanga, tika assumes a practical function. Professor Whatarangi Winiata (2004) alludes to this change in his aphorism “tikanga Māori for Tikanga Māori” (p. 5). His use of lower-case and upper-case for the letter ‘t’ is deliberate. The application of the lower-case ‘t’ (tikanga Māori) refers to the ‘doing’ that denotes the customs and practices of Māori; the upper-case ‘T’ (Tikanga Māori) is the principle(s) that underpin(s) the customs and practices.

An increasing concern, particularly in ECE, among Māori and scholars of te reo Māori me ōna tikanga (Māori language, heritage, and culture) (see, for example, Skerrett, 2018; Skerrett & Ritchie, 2021; Smith, 1990, 1999; Pihama et al., 2015) is one that argues if we are to articulate our own application(s) of tikanga Māori, then we need to realise that te reo Māori is the catalyst that supports and authenticates our understanding of tikanga. Since 2015, the New Zealand Government and its agencies have made the positive shift of increasing capability within their organisations and beyond to use te reo Māori as an everyday language (Ministry of Education, 2019; Skerrett, 2018). Sitting alongside this development is the cultural contexts of using te reo, such as, the tikanga principle of manakitanga (mana enhancing applications), which can be seen as welcoming visitors to your own space. In this way, the use of te reo and tikanga go hand in hand. Mead (2001, p. 2) reinforced this point when he stated, “[I]t is worth noting that one’s understanding of tikanga Māori is informed and mediated by the language of communication. One’s understanding through te reo Māori is different from one obtained through the English language.” He then described tikanga as “the Māori way, or done according to Māori custom, interrelated and underpinned by a body of philosophy or mātauranga Māori” (p. 2). His definition includes elements of the Williams (1992)’ definitions cited above. But more importantly, it alludes to the attitude that guides Māori behaviour, an attitude that is based on a body of knowledge. Of even more importance, is the cognisance that the early years of learning are a critical time for young tamariki to develop language learning and understanding of customs.

Because these various yet complementary definitions place tikanga as a design for living one’s culture, it is important that we ascertain which customs, practices, philosophy, mātauranga and principles are common across iwi, for it is these from which tikanga practices stem. Although what is customary varies from iwi to iwi, there is commonality across iwi in the underlying principles from which tikanga grow and from which we develop the value judgements pertaining to those tikanga. When we define tikanga as the customs and habits of Māori found within mātauranga Māori (an enduring spring of Māori ways of being, doing, and knowing), then it is a given that Māori have an unlimited range of unchanging foundational principles from which to guide their applications of tikanga.

When the term tuku iho is appended to the word tikanga, strength is added to its conceptual underpinnings. Tuku iho can be defined as “the origin of intergenerational transmission of knowledge” (Williams et al., 2012). Tikanga tuku iho thus encompasses those customs and practices that have the authority of our ancestors who reside in the spiritual realm. Because the word iho on its own can also mean heart or the middle portion of the umbilical cord, it denotes a centrality, a superior place. When suffixed to the word tikanga and used in tandem with tuku, the two words tuku iho give tikanga a sense of permanence. The view that tikanga Māori are traditional precedents tested over time and that, as such, many continue to be universal principles relevant to and applied in contemporary contexts underpins this article (Edwards, 2009).

Kaupapa—The Philosophies that Explain Māori Worldviews

While the origin of tikanga tuku iho is said to come from our ancestors, Māori Marsden (1989) offers a model of where these universal principles may have had their genesis. His definition of tikanga as custom or the right way to do things suggests a design for living derived from what he calls kaupapa (what is on the agenda). Kaupapa, he explained, derive from two words—‘kau’, meaning to appear for the first time or disclose, and ‘papa’, meaning ground or foundation (p. 14). Consequently, the body of knowledge founded in mātauranga Māori is, in essence, the philosophy that explains ngā aronga (Māori worldviews). The concept of a single Māori worldview is not tenable because Māori, as a collective noun, is a creation of the Pākehā (the partners to The Treaty of Waitangi) world. Māori see themselves first and foremost as iwi. However, because the philosophy is one that respective iwi sees through the lens of their own tikanga, these worldviews are iwi-based. This consideration applies to, for example, Te Arawa (Central North Island iwi), Ngāti Awa (Eastern Bay of Plenty iwi), Ngāti Raukawa ki te Raki (Central Northern Island iwi), Ngāi Tahu whānui (Southern South Island iwi that also includes Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Māmoe and Waitaha), and also any iwi whose tikanga are shaped by their application of kaupapa.

Te Ahukaramū Royal (2003) explains the “relationship of tikanga and kaupapa as being interactive and interdependent” (p. 1). He postulates that an action or act cannot be judged to be ethical or tika without recourse to a set of principles or values upon which to measure or assess the correctness of the act. Tikanga, the act, is, therefore, a product of kaupapa, the grounding or first principles. Kaupapa then become the mechanisms by which tikanga are validated, while the tikanga themselves are the behaviour regulators.

Royal (2003) advances a theory of kaupapa emerging from Papatūānuku (Earth Mother) and tikanga arising from out of those kaupapa, “… tikanga might be said to be those actions that naturally and organically ‘arise’ from a ground of values or kaupapa” (p. 5). If tikanga grow from kaupapa, and growth is the one constant in our lives, then it stands to reason that tikanga are adaptable. Just as our lives change in relation to our environment, so too do our behaviours, with the ethical nature of those behaviours dependent on tikanga being in place.

Royal (2003) maintains that by looking at tikanga (behaviours) of whānau, hapū (sub-tribe), and iwi (principal tribe), we can understand the kaupapa that is operating in these contexts. Essentially, tikanga arise out of kaupapa, and because kawa (iwi law) is passed down from the gods, kawa cannot be changed. King (1992) similarly stipulates that, within Māori lore, because authority is derived from the gods, mana (prestige) as an authority means “lawful permission delegated by the gods to their human agent to act on their behalf and in accordance with their revealed will” (p. 89). Since authority is a spiritual gift delegated by the gods, mana is always the agent or the channel—never the source—of authority.

As Ritchie and Rau (2006) advocated “the right of whānau Māori to in-depth engagement within early childhood education and care centres is enabled when educators move beyond conventional models of early childhood practice to enact values and practices that respect and reflect Māori ways of being, knowing, and doing as central to their pedagogies (p.19).” This call by Ritchie and Rau provided the foundation for later research work in the ECE sector within Aotearoa New Zealand of Williams et al. (2012), Gordon-Burns and Campbell (2014), and Jenkin (2017). The ‘black spot’ in research has appeared to be a dearth of research that explores the perceptions of mature Māori knowledge holders and what they advocate for a confident bicultural ECE in Aotearoa New Zealand. Thus, this article sought to explore what, for mature Māori knowledge holders, are the realities and what needs to happen to have a confident bicultural early childhood education sector in Aotearoa New Zealand?

Method

This section begins with an introduction of the principles guiding the current research. It then goes to describe the participants involved in the current study and the instruments used for data collection. The section ends with an explanation of the benefits of the first author as an “insider” during the data collection process.

Ka mua ka muri—The Future Comes Out of the Past

Kaupapa Māori research strategies are located within iwi epistemologies and traditional Western research processes. Both kaupapa Māori and traditional Western research approaches were employed in the current study, as the interaction of the methods and theories from these two worldviews were dynamic and complementary.

Kaupapa Māori research is a ‘home-grown’ form of critical theory that focuses on emancipation and affirms the right of Māori to be Māori (Pihama et al., 2004; Smith, 1999). Investigations of kaupapa Māori design link into Indigenous research design, with the latter a space still being developed, cultivated, and articulated by Indigenous peoples (Ritchie & Skerrett, 2014). Exploring the space to accelerate success for Indigenous peoples entails the support of indigenous language, cultural values, and research practices to be an integral part of everyday life (Williams, 2007). An Indigenous framework was employed to show how Indigenous ways of knowing and doing can be combined and/or sit alongside Western processes. He Awa Whiria (Braided Rivers) (Macfarlane et al., 2015) is a kaupapa Māori model that emphasises taking the best from both the stream of mātauranga Māori and the stream of Western epistemological accounts. The two streams were weaved in the current study, which was conducted according to tikanga (correct processes), and utilised qualitative research methods traditionally employed within Western paradigms, such as interviews.

Appreciative inquiry also sits alongside the kaupapa Māori principle of manaakitanga (generosity). Appreciative inquiry doesn’t mean holding back on significant depreciations towards bicultural practices that can frequently occur in mainstream settings by teachers and teacher educators. However, Stavros et al. (2015) refer to appreciative inquiry as a process that endeavours to search for the best in people by inquiring into their skills, possibilities, and achievements. Arguably, we contend that only seeking the best of what is happening continues to perpetuate monocultural attitudes often evident in centres and schools. The tikanga practices the study employed ensured the maintenance and enhancement of the mana of all participants during all occasions of engagements. This kanohi ki te kanohi (face to face) process was also important in terms of ensuring participants felt comfortable about sharing information, thoughts, and ideas, thus building trust in the researchers as well as the research project. There are five stages in the appreciative inquiry model: definition, discovery, dream, design, and destiny. Table 1 below shows how the inquiry model was weaved together with many Kaupapa Māori principles, which aligns with Macfarlane and Macfarlane’s (2018) He Awa Whiria (Braided Rivers).

Table 1 Appreciative inquiry approach aligned to kaupapa Māori principles
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Kāhui kaumātua and tangata whenua—The Study Participants

Three prominent te ao Māori, te reo me ōna tikanga experts, and 28 tangata whenua from five marae across Aotearoa New Zealand were invited to participate in the research. Pseudonyms were used for each marae: Mana A (n = 5), Mana E (n = 5), Mana I (n = 10), Mana O (n = 5), and Mana U (n = 3). The tangata whenua was made up of the following: Kōhanga Reo kaiako (te ao Māori teachers), kuia and National Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi (members of the Trust ensuring accountability) (n = 8); iwi immersion representatives (n = 2); iwi representatives of the five noho marae venues (n = 7); Kawana (Ministry of Education and Education Review Office staff) (n = 4); initial teacher education lecturers (n = 2); and Te Puni Kōkiri (Ministry of Māori Development) staff (n = 2).

During research visits to the five marae venues, the three experts each took leading roles in the pōwhiri (welcome ceremony onto a marae) processes and the tangata whenua whakawhiti kōrero (exchange of dialogue) sessions. The kaumātua (elders) were involved throughout the research process because they were able to make meaningful and effective connections between researchers as the intermediaries within the space to manage issues such as power discrepancies of those connected to the research and acknowledgements of the repositories of local knowledge and mātauranga Māori (Cram, 2001).

Ethical approval was granted by the researchers’ Ethics Committee prior to data collection. Verbal agreement was obtained from all participants. The five marae venues remained anonymous, but kāhui kaumātua and tangata whenua decided to reveal their identity because they wanted to take ownership of everything they said and for their voices to be heard. This is another example of the powerful weaving of the design and aims of this research project where the kaumātua took ownership of what was said and the amplification of their voices. The three kāhui kamāutua and the first author are uri (descendants) of all iwi throughout Aotearoa New Zealand. This characterises kaupapa Māori research ethics and cultural values, which are underpinned by Te Tiriti o Waitangi and “customary practices” aligned to Articles II and IV of this country’s founding document.

Although all three kāumatua came from differing experiences in education, they all had realised the huge impact of early years’ education.

Whaea Mereiwa Broughton (Te Ātiawa, Ngāti Awa, Tūhoe, Ngāpuhi, Te Arawa me Kahungunu descent): Whaea Mere was an outspoken advocate for Māori in tertiary education from the 1970s up until she passed in 2016. Her words to the first author of this paper at one of the kaupapa Māori hui at Western Institute of Technology, Taranaki, in March 2012, resonated with the nature and purpose of the current study: “Everything we do as Māori is political: health, education, culture—we’ve had to fight for it. It’s the politics of being Māori. That’s why we have you in your early childhood education role. You need to ensure our pēpi and mokopuna have access to tō tatou reo rangatira [our chiefly language].”

Dr Huirangi Waikerepuru (Ngāpuhi me Taranaki descent): Huirangi is well known for his decades of wise counsel and leadership and as Taranaki’s great visionary, inspiring leader, and champion of te reo Māori. Huirangi was the original claimant of the Wai 11 te reo Māori claim, which sought to have te reo Māori recognised as a taonga (intangible treasure) under Te Tiriti o Waitangi. He led the claim through to the Privy Council. That action led to the Māori Language Act 1987. It made te reo Māori an official language of Aotearoa New Zealand, established the Māori Language Commission, and established the use of te reo Māori in certain legal proceedings. Sadly, Huirangi passed during the first Covid-19 lockdown in April 2020. His death during lockdown had extreme implications for Māoridom because this visionary, warrior, and navigator of te reo Māori for the past 70 years could be farewelled only by his immediate family.

Whaea Kāterina Daniels (Te Arawa me Ngāti Tūwharetoa descent): Whaea Kāterina is the aunty of the first author. She was born and raised at Te Whakarewarewa o te ope taua a Wāhiao. She taught te reo Māori for decades in kōhanga reo (Māori language nests for tamariki and whānau), the compulsory education sector, and community night classes. Her academic work encompassed Christchurch College of Education, Christchurch Polytechnic, Tai Poutini Polytechnic, and Waiariki Polytechnic. Aunty Kā always said to the first author of this paper “Any te reo Māori is good te reo Māori.” She also said, “Me nohopuku koe, kia akiaki ngā tauira katoa—always be patient with a smile and keep encouraging all students.” Aunty Kā was a very wise lady indeed. Aunty passed in March 2020 and, as with Huirangi Waikerepuru, Covid-19 restrictions had a huge impact on her tangihanga (funeral) because only whānau could be with her at that very sad time.

He kōrero uiui—Unstructured Interviews

Data were generated from unstructured kōrero (discussions) with prominent kaumātua and tangata whānau from each of the five marae. Each discussion began with Huirangi Waikerepuru introducing the study and asking those in present the question in te reo Māori, “As mana whenua, what do you want to see your mokopuna learning in local ECE centres?” This question provided an opening platform for the kōrero, which flowed between te reo Māori and English. Kōrero sessions took place in the evening and lasted about one and a half hours. Each kōrero session was video-recorded and further transcribed. The transcripts were sent back to kaumātua for review. Any changes they wanted made to the transcript was then sent by returning an email.

The discussions were then thematically analysed by the first author. Next, these initial themes were shared with the three kaumātua. Together, the first author and kaumātua reviewed the initial themes, and following this, they filtered out and grouped the reoccurring themes. Next, the themes were labelled and reviewed to be divided into a range of subthemes, following the analysis steps proposed by Clarke et al. (2019) and Joffe and Yardley (2003).

Ngā tikanga painga (The Beneficial Process)—The Benefits of ‘Insider’ Status During Data Collection

The first author’s position as an insider meant that their own support group of te ao Māori knowledge-holders were connected to them through iwi, whānau, and social relationships. These connections brought the advantages of direction and security because this group held tohunga status (experts within te ao Māori contexts) among all iwi. Their mana (prestige), ihi (charismatic authority), wehi (upmost respect), and love of teaching te reo Māori me ōna tikanga (stalwarts of teaching identity, language, and culture) were exhibited at all five marae venues. An ‘outsider’ positioning would not have worked in the current study because of the researchers’ commitment to employing kanohi i kitea—presenting themselves face to face to all participant groups and therefore placing themselves within the research.

As has been mentioned in the method section, the kāhui kaumātua provided support at each of the five marae venues. They followed tikanga of karakia (blessing) and mihimihi (speech of greeting) and then introduced the purpose of the kōrero uiui (unstructured discussion sessions) along with an overview of this research project. Dr Huirangi Waikerepuru (as a facilitating role) provided this information verbally and invited kōrero back from the tangata whenua participant group at each marae in response to this lead-in question, “What do you see as Māori education priorities for our tamariki (children) nā te mea ko rātou ngā rangitira mō āpōpō (because they will be our future leaders)?”.

An important directive from kāhui kaumātua was to elicit data and hear the lived realities from kōrero of tangata whenua and weave them into a narrative.

Findings and Discussion

Two key priorities emerged from the analysis of the unstructured interviews. These are knowing Whakapapa is the door to te ao Māori and mātauranga Māori within: experiential learning, place-based education, and local curriculum.

Kaupapa tuatahi (Priority One)—Knowing whakapapa is the Door to te ao Māori

During the first kōrero (discussion), participants stated what they thought was important for kaiako (teachers) to learn to allow kaiako, as facilitators of learning, to navigate their way in te ao Māori. All participants agreed that whakapapa (identity) is integral for kaiako to know because it lets them see who and what each of them brings to the ECE settings. Table 2, below, sets out the understandings the participants defined as essential for mainstream ECE kaiako to engage in whakapapa learning. The participants maintained that if the learning framework depicted in Table 2 was developed further, it would provide a good resource for all ECE kaiako because it would assist them with starting points to what whakapapa includes and the importance of these components to Māori.

Table 2 Inherent birth rights’ framework for ECE kaiako
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The first three columns of Table 2 can be encapsulated within one’s pepeha (introduction of self). For Māori, this introduction of self requires awareness of which eponymous ancestor(s) their iwi stems from, their waka (canoe/s), and all of the geographical features of the land area their iwi belong to. The fourth column comprises the oral traditions of one’s history. These can be represented in song and dance, in artwork and in how places were named and why. A wealth of history and knowledge is tied not only to the land, its waterways, and the resources of an area, but also to the people. Marae are the social hub of all iwi. The carved decorative houses are the art galleries and museums of the hapū, where one gains experiential learning and engages in place-based education (see for example, Penetito, 2009). The final column, te reo Māori me ōna tikanga, is about learning the iwi’s language and practices within the ECE service’s geographical location. It is this learning that provides the basis from which those engaged in that service can establish a relationship with the tangata whenua of the local area. In this place, all this knowledge is waiting to become an important part of the ECE setting’s bicultural curriculum.

The following comments from the tangata whenua participants support the above conceptulisation of whakapapa. This will assist kaiako and other adults working in ECE settings in navigating the intricacies of whakapapa learning which are necessary for effectively supporting ECE bicultural curriculum deliveries of te ao Māori.

The two quotes below show it is important to distinguish between tangata whenua (original inhabitants) and mana whenua (their chieftainship and territorial rights over a particular part of land). Kaiako should act as tuākana (the leaders) in not just directing the learning of pepeha (self-identity), but also guiding the realisation of the spiritual significance of local geographical features.

Students and kaiako need to know the differences between tangata whenua and mana whenua. (Iwi 2)

Kaiako should be taking on the roles of tuākana and providing pathways towards further understanding or giving the new kaiako clear directions on the pepeha of the area and outlining the spiritual significance of our geographical features. (Iwi 2)

Retaining the local whakapapa is integral to the curriculums across different sectors—early childhood, primary, and secondary, as shown from the comment below. Manaakitanga is important in maintaining relationships between iwi or/and marae and ECE services, and the relationships are characterised as reciprocal and giving through kanohi ki te kanohi (face to face).

There is no getting away with it any longer: whakapapa of the area to kaiako, services, and schools are integral to curriculum development. Establishing through kanohi ki te kanohi (face-to-face) contact, maintaining these relationships through kanohi i kitea (a face that is always seen) with the local iwi, the local marae, these are the first steps towards supporting Māori aspirations mō tātou a mō ngā uri a muri ake nei (for all of us now and the generations that follow). (Iwi 1)

Our people are always known for providing manaakitanga. However, when kaiako or services and schools want our support, then we need to know what we can help them with. Manaakitanga dictates reciprocity; therefore, the relationship between iwi (and) marae with kaiako or ECE settings is one of give. Therefore, manaakitanga needs to be displayed in all interactions with iwi and marae. (Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi 3)

But the reality is, as can be seen from the frustration of one participant, that some kaiako lacked commitment to biculturalism (see, for example, the work of Stewart (2020) on typologies of whiteness in relation to the tendency of teachers and teacher education to need their ‘alliance” to be convenient). This is often expected of manaakitanga learning, which can be a simplified presentation of everything “on a plate” rather than take the time for deeper and more authentic learning and knowledge development.

I get hōhā [exasperated] with a lot of kaiako, as they want everything given to them on a plate. Do they actually want to learn our reo, our tikanga, and our stories? It is more than manaakitanga that is applied generally by us. To me it is about how committed are kaiako; that is what I want to see, hear, and feel. (Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi 3)

The commitment to manaakitanga, as conceptualised by one participant, is like “an infinite continuum”, and it is important to recognise that the learning takes time and is ongoing and challenging.

Students and kaiako need to be alright with being challenged and that they do not have to have the right answers right there or then. However, they need to make a commitment to ongoing learning, as te ao Māori, te reo Māori, tikanga Māori – these can’t be learned overnight. Instead, your learning journey takes place on an infinite continuum. (Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi 1)

The tangata whenua participants were all staunch advocates of te reo Māori me ōna tikanga. They strongly recommended that all ECE kaiako gain a healthy and living vocabulary of te reo Māori words and understand structures sufficiently to be able to use and teach te reo to all learners competently and confidently. The first of the comments in this part signals the crucial point that kaiako need to self-assess their stance towards learning te reo Māori and tikanga Māori, given that all kaiako have an obligation to ensure they carry out their professional responsibilities as an Aotearoa New Zealand registered, practising teacher. The participant below described a disheartening situation where Māori kaiako are taken advantage by non-Māori colleagues to provide support to the learning of te reo and tikanga, and yet the sentiment of some kaiako is one of disinterest in learning everything Māori.

I feel aroha (empathy) for our Māori kaiako, as they are the ones who are used all the time by their non-Māori colleagues to become the bringer and teacher of all things Māori, and the worst part about this is their colleagues don’t even want to learn. This is so sad. I know, because I have seen it, when centres come and visit the kōhanga teo. Kaiako from the mainstream services need to want to do it for themselves. (Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi 5)

The next three comments, similar in tone and thought, show that to become fluent in te reo Maōri and tikanga, these should be used and practised on a daily basis.

Constant practising of using te reo and tikanga every day in the ECE programmes is how you become more confident and competent, and the children also become the same. (Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi 4)

Speaking the language and practising tikanga is a must for all kaiako within New Zealand. You need to know the language and its customs. (Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi 3)

Yes, it is about practising it – it needs to be natural te reo me ōna tikanga and one does not go without the other. (Iwi 5)

The following comments provide expressive prompts for non-te reo Māori kaiako to consider if they are committed to revitalising te reo Māori. It is important to recognise the language as being part of Te Whāriki, and thus to provide opportunities for all children, not only Māori tamariki.

Yes, it’s got to be holistic to realise, “Wow, we’re doing science, we’re doing maths, we’re doing te reo, we’re doing tikanga.” It is part of an integrated curriculum; we actually don’t break it up. (Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi 2)

It is important for ECE kaiako to open pathways for all children – especially non-Māori-speaking children – in order to retain and revitalise te reo Māori. (Iwi 2)

Learning te reo Māori is more than the language itself, as shown from the two comments below. It is an embodiment of tikanga Māori principles and meanings, which in turn influences decision-making. These findings align with earlier research (see, for example, Skerrett, 2018; Skerrett & Ritchie, 2021; G. H. Smith, 1990; L. Smith, 1999; Pihama et al., 2015), which promotes the articulation of local whakapapa in the application(s) of tikanga Māori to establish te reo Māori as the catalyst to support and authenticate understanding of tikanga. Indeed, a culture cannot be fully understood without first knowing its language (Ager, 1993; Ministry of Education, 2009).

You cannot have a language without awareness and knowledge of the culture – otherwise it lacks substance. (Kawana 4)

Language opens the door to understanding the culture. You need to know the ethical meanings, principles, and values that underpin tikanga based on Māori worldviews because this is important, as they guide the behaviour in decision-making. (Iwi 1)

The next example, from one of the public servants, directly refers to Māori tamariki currently attending mainstream ECE services. Implicit within the comment is the point that these tamariki need their whakapapa identity, language, and culture nurtured because these are birth rights. The participant also echoed the comments of other participants when she said that kaiako need to be well prepared and skilled to deliver the educational aspirations that Māori have for their tamariki. The participants considered these matters important topical issues.

Te reo Māori and tikanga are paramount for our own Māori tamariki. As we all know, [because] the majority of our Māori tamariki are attending mainstream ECE services, their identity needs to be kept intact. Therefore, kaiako should be well prepared to nurture te reo Māori and tikanga Māori and make them visible for all tamariki. (Kawana 2)

The next two excerpts from unstructured interviews are also relevant to Priority One, because the first refers to the kaumātua Huirangi who led the Wai 11 Te Reo Māori claim back in the 1980s. This claim was significant because te reo Māori was acknowledged by the New Zealand government as the official language of Aotearoa New Zealand. In 1984, Ngā Kaiwhakapūmau i te Reo, the organisation behind the first Māori radio station, and one of its founders, Huirangi Waikerepuru, lodged a claim that affected all Māori. Allocated the name ID Wai 11 (because it was the eleventh claim lodged), the claim was more popularly known as ‘The Te Reo Māori Claim’. It had a substantial impact on the revitalisation of te reo Māori.

The Government needs to wake up. Te reo Māori was the only official language of New Zealand in 1987, and they are still ‘pussy-footing’ around, whether to make it compulsory in our education system. Go figure. Why acknowledge it by passing law through an act of de jure? It is coming up to twenty-five years since the Māori Language Act was passed eh Koro Huirangi. Why is the government still ‘pussy-footing’ around? Koro, you may need to lead off another hīkoi to Parliament. (Te Kōhanga Reo Trust kaimahi 1)

Response: Yes, the government needs to support te reo Māori initiatives, especially for our kaiako. [They need to] say they can protect our beautiful language: “Ko tōku taonga ko tōku reo – my treasure is my language.” It is about the normalisation of te reo Māori through continual improvement and nurturing. This has a flow-on effect as Tīmoti Karetū says in an interview (R. Smith, 2019), invest in kaiako. (Kāhui Kaumātua 1)

For this kaumātua (elder) who had been one of the lead advocates for te reo Māori as the official language of Aotearoa New Zealand, the outcome of the Wai 11 claim was like the sweetness of the miro (berry) to the kererū (native wood pigeon frequently found in Aotearoa New Zealand bush). This is what type of claims achieve when making right the breaches of Te Tiriti o Waitangi.

Kaupapa tuarua (Priority two)—Mātauranga Māori Within: Experiential Learning, Place-Based Education, and Local Curriculum

Noho marae are a significant part of place-based education. Marae are the social hub of Māori people where there are culturally significant buildings that allow iwi and visitors to come together. These overnight stays provide visitors with opportunities to gain insights into te ao Māori (aspects of a Māori world). Here, they gain an understanding of the values of whanaungatanga (forming of relationships), manaakitanga (the carrying out of mana-enhancing practices), and kotahitanga (knowing that you belong to a collective—the visiting group). Insights into Māori ways of being, knowing, and doing are all shared by the tangata whenua, host. Student kaiako are also given an introduction to marae where ceremonies take place in accordance with traditional protocols.

We contend that experiential learning where non-Māori are able to be immersed in a noho marae experience for several days, allows the nurturing of te reo Māori and tikanga Māori in a contextual and authentic environment. However, many ITE providers in Aotearoa New Zealand, often due to financial restraints, will glaze over the accountability in meeting Te Tiriti o Waitangi obligations and merely take students out to a marae for part of a day or at best an overnight stay. The following comments focus on noho marae experiences and associated experiential learning.

All three whare wānanga – Awanuiārangi, Raukawa, and Aoteaora – give week-long noho, whereas the universities, polytechs, and private training establishments give an overnight experience. What is that about? Honestly, what can you learn with a day and overnight experience? (Iwi 3)

Response: It is all about budgets, Whaea (a title of respect for elder females). (Kawana 2)

Response: We are not a budget; we are the knowledge-holders. If this is what they call valuing te ao Māori, then those people who hold the purse-strings need to review their relationships with our marae. Why are our marae supporting these overnight stays? (Iwi 3)

Later in the discussion, another tangata whenua picked up on the limited value of single overnight stays.

ITE providers need to take their classes out to the marae [where] what happens is the immersion or bilingual programmes. Go out on a number of noho marae, because this is where they [wānanga, the ITE providers] are most comfortable in having wānanga (teaching and learning sessions). It is the mainstream programmes that need to experience these, otherwise you are teaching the already converted. It is the multitudes that need regular noho marae throughout their teacher education programmes. (Kōhanga Reo kaiako 5)

Of the above comments, Iwi 3’s concern about the different amount of time that mainstream organisations and Māori whare wānanga spe4nd at noho marae is perhaps the most telling one. In a related vein, the next participant pointed out that opportunities for te reo me ōna tikanga learning extend well beyond what is experienced on noho marae.

Experiential learning opportunities and placed-based education can be experienced at marae, Māori social gatherings, calendar of events, celebrations [such as] Waitangi Day, Matariki, [and also] te wiki o te reo Māori, local kapa haka competitions (primary schools, secondary schools), manu kōrero local competitions. Marae are the social hub of Māori, and the wealth of place-based educational opportunities are many. Therefore, our marae have a significant role in their teaching and learning of te ao Māori in teacher education programmes. (Kōhanga Reo kaiako 2)

Education Review Office’s (2013) report Working with Te Whāriki had similar findings by employing a more contextualised research design that aligned evaluation criteria with the key developmental milestones and descriptors of Te Whāriki. The report found that although many services had referenced in their philosophy statements Te Tiriti o Waitangi and to Aotearoa New Zealand’s dual cultural heritage and bicultural practice, few were working collaboratively with whānau Māori in practice, and there is a lack of teacher capacity to implement a curriculum that was culturally responsive “the language, culture, and identity of Māori children” (p. 13).

Overall, all these comments emphasise the need for mainstream teacher education organisations to design their English-medium programmes further so that they bring in content and modes of delivery enabling student teachers to participate in meaningful experiential learning and place-based education focused on te ao Māori teaching and learning.

He whakarāpopoto—Summary

It is the vital obligation of all mainstream ECE providers to ensure te ao Māori, te reo Māori, and tikanga Māori are integral parts of their programmes. Comments from kāhui kaumātua and tangata whenua covered matters intrinsic to the wellbeing of the Māori people of today and for the generations that follow. The participants offered ways forward for the ECE sector, which they saw as struggling to deliver, as a natural part of their teaching programmes, te ao Māori inspirations of identity, language, and culture. The participants also emphasised that teacher education organisations need to review critically and, where necessary, address their professional and obligatory requirements to tangata whenua.

Conclusion

Although this study is situated in the early childhood sector within Aotearoa New Zealand, it highlights many of the frustrations and pains inflicted upon Māori, as the Indigenous people of Aotearoa New Zealand. Quintessential to being culturally responsive is knowing, respecting and acknowledging the cultural capital of Indigenous people. The context where this research took place is Aotearoa New Zealand, yet what this study has illuminated is that the findings may mirror similar situations for Indigenous people in countries such as Australia and Canada. In our study, the gold nuggets come from the interviews with the three stalwart te ao Māori elders. Even though they have sadly passed, their tenacity and passion for restorative practices to be enacted for the upcoming generations of Māori hauntingly echo, like the call of the korimako (bellbird) through the Aotearoa New Zealand forests. Whakapapa (genealogy), as Apirana Ngata, a prominent East Coast Māori elder, suggested, is ‘the process of laying one thing upon another’ (Ngata, 2011, p. 6). What has gone before paves the way for ways forward to improving outcomes.

Providing a marae experience for ECE initial teacher education students and ECE teachers, as this study found, needs to be more than an overnight stay if long-term changes are to be made to non-Maōri student teachers and teachers’ bicultural understandings and knowledge. Tight purse strings and budgets have seemed to take precedence in the decision-making of what happens in this regard. We contend that often the budget may appear as a seemingly impenetrable excuse. The provision by the government, if truly seeking bicultural initial teacher education programmes in Aotearoa New Zealand, should encompass funding to allow for this explicit and contextual learning for all future kaiako. To add to the complexities, if authentic place-based learning is to occur, then the burden of providing this cannot fall upon local iwi. Values such as whanaungatanga and manaakitanga are steeped in respect, relationships, trust, and inclusiveness. Utu (reciprocity) cannot be half-heartedly one way or tokenistic. Marae may be supporting these overnight stays for student teachers, but the resourcing of a marae, upkeep of buildings, grounds and ensuring the guardianship and sustainability of local marae require time and leadership. Values, such as service, cannot continue to be given by Indigenous people without adequate funding. We contend that marae are primarily there for local iwi and nurturing that resource and the iwi within their guardianship.

Another finding was Māori kaiako were burdened with cultural taxation (see, Torepe et al., 2018 for further discussion on the impact of cultural taxation on kaiako/teachers). At worst, not only did this cultural taxation become commonplace, but for some Māori kaiako, there was a profound disillusionment that some non-Māori student teachers wanted a quick fix to ‘ticking the box’ to biculturalism.

What this research highlights is the need for not only the rhetoric in government documents such as Te Whāriki to be updated to fit alongside Te Tiriti o Waitangi, the Māori written version, but that enactment and accountability to policy of teaching practitioners and initial teacher education providers. Yes, this does require resourcing and has financial implications. However, if we are to be a bicultural society with effective and meaningful education systems where Māori can succeed as Māori, then this needs to be accounted for within policy budgets.