How failure begins in the classroom

Tu Tangata, Issue 36, 1 June 1987, Page 22

How failure begins in the classroom

At one state in my teaching I foolishly blamed the secondary schools for the child’s failure, believing that their culling, sorting, and labelling together with an inflexible public examination system caused the low achieving student to leave school at fifteen. Each December I anxiously consigned by Form II pupils to that ‘heartless institution’ down the road the local secondary school. However,

as an inspector, observing in hundreds of classrooms, I am convinced that a child’s failure begins on the very day she/he is enrolled. Many a caring infant teacher will no doubt feel outraged by that remark, but a cursory search of the available literature will confirm my contention. (See writings by: Jane and J. Ritchie, R. A. Benton, J. M. Barrington, R. J. Walker, Judith Simon, B. Gadd, Joan Metge, Alison & R. St.

George, N. B. & T. B. Graves, R. K. Harker and Sylvia Ashton-Warner. By the end of the second year a child’s feelings of failure have become so internalised and irreversible that his/her next eight years of schooling simply confirms his/her personal view that somehow she/he is not making it. By standard one she/he thinks and talks of him/herself as “dull”, “slow”, “dumb”, “stupid”, “a thicko”, “heavy”, or “unteachable” and to my dismay I have heard teachers use all those words when describing low achievers. So often I have listened to well meaning infant teachers describing a child (within hearing) as “a bit dull, or slow” or “not very bright”. The wide-eyed trusting infant says to him/herself, “If the teacher thinks I’m a bit stupid then I must be, for she/he’s never wrong.”

An almost universal belief among teachers that does inestimable damage to children is the belief in their own ability to make infallible judgments about a child’s intellectual potential, and a judgment once made seems to become absolute and irrevocable. These judgments are usually made on the basis of language facility, home background, ethhnicity, conformity, dress, grooming and social behaviour. I have heard scores of teachers discussing their estimate of the “brightness” or “dullness” of a child as confidently as they would discuss a change in the weather. No psychologist of any standing would make such a claim even after administering a battery of so-called intelligence tests. This tendency of teachers to categorize children into groupings of “bright, average and dull” is probably an organisational compromise that they feel enables them to better service the individual needs of children. However once the judgment is made, no matter how equivocal, it tends to stick, and all subsequent assessments seem to be based upon that very first ranking. Another personal incident that reveals special difficulties the Maori child faces all too often in our schools, occurred during a grading interview with a middle-aged teacher of a new entrant class. In answer to my question “When a five year old Maori child says something you consider to be grammatically incorrect (e.g. youse fellas, two feets) do you point this out to him?’

“Oh yes!” she replied as if my question was a bit stupid.

“That’s my job as a teacher to constantly correct bad speech. They must learn to speak good English before learning to read.”

I felt sympathy for the Maori children

in her class knowing that the increasing shame of each “put-down” would quickly cause the individual child to seek safety in silence. She/he soon learns that silence is safer than risking a response that may bring humiliation in front of his/her peers. And nonresponse to teacher questioning is one of the negative categories the teacher employs to assess intelligence.

Couldn’t hack school

One could go on and on about the beginnings of failure in the junior classrooms. One could mention the dissonant value systems of the pakeha teacher and the Maori child, the differing views of physical contact and “body space”, embarrassing eye-contact, the pakeha teacher’s obvious distaste (barely disguised) at the sight of runny noses, loud sniffs, or the odd scab and body smell. In the extended family the Maori child’s orientation tends towards many adults, aunties and uncles whereas the classroom is a fearful place where individual effort is rewarded, competition is encouraged and the things she/he learned at home seem somehow all wrong. It is little wonder that the school comes to mean humiliation, shame and cumulative failure for the great majority of Maori children and age fifteen comes as a blessed relief. So often I have heard young Maoris describe an unhappy ten year period of schooling as: “Couldn’t hack school so I left as soon as I turned fifteen.”

Of course not all pakeha teachers behave in such ways and many are genuinely fond of their multi-racial pupils. However, most never question the pakeha belief that their culture is superior to that of the Maori, that the English language is the only correct and proper teaching medium, that a pakeha curriculum is suited to all children, that the Maori must lift him/herself to our standards to ensure acceptance and success in a pakeha dominated world. Most teachers are blithely unaware that they are unwitting collaborators in a system that is so manifestly unfair and unjust to a large section of our New Zealand population.

A ghetto of collective failure

For some years my job as an inspector obliged me to spend a fair amount of time visiting and observing the Porirua schools, where Maori and Polynesian children greatly outnumber their pakeha peers. Despite the efforts of wellintentioned, dedicated teachers and principals there was a very high population of Maori and Island children

with severe retardation (up to three years) in the basic subjects: language and mathematics. Even though notional rolls applied, extra staff appointed, good support services available and concerned teachers, somehow the Porirua schools seemed to be a spawning ground for failure on a mass scale, and a pervading sense of educational malaise permeated the area. Teachers had come to the point where they regarded educational retardation as the norm, and was inevitable. A common view prevailed that many of the children would spend a large part of their lives unemployed so “why bust your guts trying to bring the kids up to scratch?” Going from a Karori or Khandallah school to one in Porirua was like going to a different world, and it is little wonder the teachers become demoralised by the sheer enormity of the task of trying to raise achievement levels when surrounded by vandalised gardens, play areas, broken equipment, graffiti, seeming parental indifference, and masses of children who just cannot read.

In desperation many schools had introduced a diluted curriculum where the basics was replaced by an “activity programme” that kept children occupied rather than learning. The Porirua intermediates, frustrated by the annual intake of eleven-year-olds, who were ill-equipped to undertake the normal intermediate programme, had devised their own curriculum consisting of large chunks of Maoritanga action songs, guitar playing and marae procedures. This kept the students happy and occupied, but the subjects most likely to go by the board were the very ones that could enable Maori pupils to win employment competitively, viz. language, mathematics, and science.

Haka boogie not an answer

By kind permission of a local secondarly principal, I interviewed a group of Maori and Island seventh formers who had received all their schooling in the Porirua area. With considerable anger and indignation they told me that as pupils of the local primary and intermediate schools they had “gone along with the Maoritanga programmes”, knowing that participation meant legitimate sanction to avoid the basic subjects. It was not until entering the third form at secondary school that they realised their retardation in these curriculum areas, when assessed alongside pupils from neighbouring suburban schools with few Maori and Island pupils. Only a conscious decision to make up the lost ground and a great

deal of home support enabled them to reach the point where School Certificate and University Entrances became an attainable goal. In the meantime this decision involved some personal trauma and alienation from their friends who, the group claimed, while equally or more academically able than themselves, lacked the necessary home support and had drifted out of the school to low paid jobs or unemployment. They were unanimous that an over-emphasis on Maoritanga in the primary years, although enjoyable at the time, had left them ill-equipped academically when important decisions regarding the future had to be made. Maori not an optional extra My final thoughts are for radical changes within the education system designed to eradicate the injustices being done to Maori children in the name of education, and to avoid future racial disharmony. The introduction of the Maori language, Maoritanga, and Taha Maori although pakeha perceived solutions to the “problem” are big steps in the right direction and if taught sensitively should enhance mutual respect.

However, as “optional extras” in a system so obviously structured to favour middle class pakeha children, and the preservation of the prevailing power structures, they may not bring the anticipated lift in mana, self esteem and learning. In my view the teachers of Maori children, and the Maori children themselves are in a no-win situation under current conditions. Without intensive retraining in multicultural education, a fluency in the Maori language, and a sensitive appreciation of Maori culture, I cannot see much improvement in the status quo. In my view those in positions to influence future educational policy should be giving attention to the following points. Maori language and culture should be an integral part of the curriculum at all levels and ranked with the basic subjects Pakehas tend to value schooling in relation to employment and life chances, and question the usefulness of Maori language and culture on this basis. However, unlike the Chinese, Italian, Greek or Samoan languages which exist and flourish outside New Zealand the Maori language and culture dies unless it is sustained and nourished within

our shores. As a signatory to the United Nations Charter on Human Rights, New Zealanders must recognise the right of all people to cherish with dignity and pride the perpetuation of their indigenous culture. Pakehas should recognise the need to redress past policies that have attempted to suppress and exterminate a rich and valuable culture. All teachers i.e. pre-school, primary and secondary should speak Maori fluently and be comfortable in both cultures. Teacher training should ensure that adequate standards of fluency in Maori are achieved by all prospective teachers as determined by a Maori board of examiners. Primary Teachers’ Colleges at present offer one hundred hours of multicultural studies over a three year period but this barely equates to a twelve day full time course and serves merely as an introduction to Maoritanga. More inservice training should be devoted to multi-cultural studies and teachers should be encouraged to extend and update their knowledge of Maoritanga. Less watchdog, more leader The role of the inspectorate must become more of the professional leader

than “departmental watchdog” and assessor of teacher competence. At present primary inspectors spend a predominance of time doing statutory school inspections and teacher gradings, both tasks that contribute little or nothing to the improvement of the quality of teacher. Inspectors need intensive training in the principals of school management professional leadership, change strategies, effective inservice training methods and to be leaders in the whole field of biculturalism. At present there is no training in any of the above and little incentive for inspectors to extend their professional knowledge. There is an urgent need for the Department of Education to undergo a complete reshuffle and reorganisation from top to bottom. Parents, community groups, professionals and politicians, are becoming increasingly critical of the education system and only a thunderous silence emanates from the “large wooden building”. The Department urgently needs to redefine its philosophy and aims and cease the present pragmatic drift that merely results in a sluggish reaction to external prodding and a placeatory flow of “delicate phrases”. Its authority needs decentralising and more direct control transferred to regional localities where communities should be given the opportunity to develop education accord-

ing to local or regional needs. At present the power of head office is enormous and in any view detrimental to the education system and the education of children. The pursuit of power for its own sake results in the kind of fuedal dynamics that permeates the department and detracts from sound leadership and healthy change. This coercive authority structure filters down to the very classroom and brings with it a rigidity professional and subservience that is reminiscent of 19th century education. Ad hoccing is rife and change is subject to the dilatantism of those holding powerful executive positions. e.g. open plan schools. Unshackle Mlaori and Island division The Maoris and Island Division of head office needs more direct influence and authority in all aspects of curriculum development and education generally. At present their advisory role results in an impotence that generates cynicism from their own people. Head office should give the Maori people a greater share of control over the education of Maori children at all levels and policies established whereby all schools develop the capability of meeting the local needs of Maori children in cooperation with Maori parents. At present school principals receive

little or no training in professional leadership and a consequence of this is a great number of poorly lead schools. The system is largely to blame for this. I feel strongly that all principals need continuous training in professional leaderships, change strategies, school management and curriculum development and human relationship skills. No potential principal should be promoted to this position unless she/he has clear concepts of the principalships role she/he is to play. Pioneering this role after appointment has many dangers for the principal the staff and the children. Maori parents should be represented on school committees and school boards at least in proportion to the number of Maori children on the roll if schools are to become more sensitive to Maori culture and adapt more adequately to the needs of Maori students. I have visited many chools with up to 70% Maori children on the roll and an all-pakeha school committee, principals and teachers must become much more sensitive to Maori educational needs and make the changes necessary to eliminate the mass failure that is blighting the lives of so many of our Maori children. Unless we do, our society will become increasingly divisive as Maori people grow in indignation and awareness of the inequalities they suffer.