Negative power & the power of not knowing

 

The power of not-knowing 

One time I decided not to learn or know something, though it was within my power to do so, was during the height of the ‘coding’ fad, when the NZ Curriculum was updated to incorporate a new ‘Digital Curriculum’ (2020). As many of you will remember, this caused widespread anxiety and panic amongst our teaching colleagues, who felt a whole new workload was being heaped upon them, the importance of which was yet to be proven. I was a Digital Educator at the time, and had seen a number of things come and go, and ridden the wave of the technology hype cycle a few times (VR, AR, 3d printing)  (see https://www.gartner.com/en/research/methodologies/gartner-hype-cycle).
At the time, I felt the demand for all children to learn how to code was driven industry and government fears about our ability to compete internationally in the technology field more than anything.
I reserved my panic, feeling that there were more important things for learners to focus on, and let others lead the way.  Soon enough the wave subsided, technology evolved and I was left without any regrets about not learning to code.

Negative power

One time that I practised the use of negative power was in an online meeting where I was asked to do a karakia to open the meeting. I am Pākehā, and was asked because it was known that I had some proficiency in te reo Māori (otira kāore ahau te tino mohio). I knew, or had the sense, that no one in the meeting really knew why a karakia was appropriate or why we should be offering one at all. It felt well intentioned but tokenistic, and I did not feel I had the cultural authority to present the karakia and so politely declined.
I didn't fully understand what I was doing at the time, and it is only after this week's learning that I know - recognising when I would be (knowingly or unknowingly) coming from a position of hegemonic power (Adkin, 2022) and privilege  - or 'Pākehā structural advantage' to use Shaw's (2024) term - to define Māori things in these terms. Negative power, the non-action, allowed me to refrain from crossing that ethical boundary.

 

References

Adkin, L., 2022 Hegemony and counter hegemony in Showing Theory to Know Theory 

https://doi.org/10.22215/stkt/al18 https://ecampusontario.pressbooks.pub/showingtheory/chapter/hegemony-and-counter-hegemony/

Ministry of Education (2020). Digital technologies and the technology learning area https://elearning.tki.org.nz/Teaching/Curriculum-learning-areas/Digital-technologies-and-the-technology-learning-area

Shaw, R., 2024, Richard Shaw: The Unsettled, RNZ National https://www.rnz.co.nz/audio/player?audio_id=2018933146

Small acts of activism

Where can you see establishing your own practices of activism, however small. 
Why are they necessary?

One way I can see practices of activism in my role is actually in line with the policies of my wider institution, which aspires to be Te Tiriti-led – though the act can feel like activism when it happens with some teaching teams and colleagues, depending on their perspectives: I ask, “where is Te Tiriti in this?” This comes up when looking at teaching and learning practices, and especially so when looking at assessment. It is a very small activism )a micro-activism), but necessary to remind others of our obligations and commitments, to keep everybody from forgetting about them or conveniently ignoring them – I feel like I’m interpellating them into the institution’s ambitions, which need support to come to life. In a way this is also counter-interpellating (Backer, 2019) aghaisn the hegemony of the iunstituion which has long been Pākehā/Western-centric in its approach to education and a long-history of excluding Māori as Māori (Bishop & Berryman, 2007). 

Are there things that you have said/will say "No!" to?

One case where I remember saying “no” came when a member of teaching staff wanted to remove all the te reo Māori from their online learning site and wanted to know how to do it. The headings of each section in the LMS were all bi-lingual, with te reo first Māori and English second (Aromatawai | Assessments, for example).  Some teaching staff resisted this and came up with many reasons why the reo should be removed. After arguing the case for reo in the LMS and being shouted down, I deferred their request and didn’t do as they had asked. It was a small act of resistance. Te reo Māori for all headings in the LMS has since become is part of the institution-wide LMS template, and cannot be removed, so I guess I won a little in the end. 

References

Backer, D. I. (2018). Interpellation, Counter-interpellation, and Education. Critical Education, 9(12), 1-21. https://doi.org/http://dx.doi.org/10.17613/M6VD6P449 

Bishop, R., Berryman, M. (2007). Culture Speaks : Cultural Relationships and Classroom Learning  Huia Publishers.     

Interpellation - the ways that schools and teachers bring students into line

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When you are working with your students in class, what do you feel about the source of power that is legitimating what you are doing? 
If have trust and faith in the ideals that senior management wish to impart to the learners and the culture they wish to establish in the institution, then I feel okay about it. It’s important that I feel that source of power listens to any contributions I make to what that culture looks like, what those ideas are, and how they might be achieved. That said, not every detail of what the powers that be wants to happen will be possible to enforce, and I particularly tend to be ambivalent about enforcing bureaucratic rules I don’t agree with.

What is driving you to do the things you do?
Being a good employee, keeping my job, furthering my career are all part of my motivations, as well as being a generally kind person with his own values and rules for what good interaction/behaviour looks like. I will always endeavour to ensure the learning environment is comfortable and safe for the learners so that everybody feels able to engage and contribute – both to the to the learning as well as socially.

It is ideology of course but where has this ideology come from? 
Some of the ideology comes from the institution, from management, the associated board, informed by the rules of wider society; some, such as my own personal values and rules, come from the experience of living in and contributing to a society along with being part of learning institutions as a learner and teacher these personal ideologies are mainly come from ideas about how to treat people in mana-enhancing, kind, empathetic ways. My own ideologies come from knowing how one would like to be treated, knowing how it feels to be treated badly/unkindly, knowing how it feels to see those in authority letting people treat others/their peers badly/unkindly – knowing what kind of learning /working environment I want to be a part of and create for others.

What are the main tenets of the ideology that you have bought into as a teacher?
That participants in the learning should behave in ways that respect others. These are communal spaces and learning is often a collective experience – people should not be allowed to be abusive, bullying, harmful to others, either emotionally or physically.

Who/what benefits from your interpellatory activities as a teacher? (We like to say it is students of course but who else?) 

 I benefit from my interpellations (Althusser, 1970), because they create an environment that is more pleasant to be in and work in that if I did not have any interpellatory activities at all. The learners benefit too, because any interpellations are designed to create atmospheres and environments that are conducive to learning and wellbeing. The wider institution benefits too, through a reputation of having well-run learning spaces and producing successful learners. In a far broader sense, society benefits too, from learners who have positive attitudes and behaviours moving on to contribute to the wider world.

Think of a moment or moments in your own education and work lives when you really felt called to do something or learn something. Think carefully and critically about what was involved. Why did you hear the call but others didn’t? What emotions were involved? How was your responding to the call also a response to power? In Dave Backer’s terms, did you ‘get with the programme’? if so, why?

I heard the call because I was the one disrupting the class. High school Fench, 3rd Form, sometime in the 1980’s. It wasn’t a huge disrutption that I caused, nor a huge intervention on the teacher’s part, but it is a small moment that stands out in my memory. It involved was the French teacher addressing the room: “Who is that stupid, stupid person?” I didn’t realise at first that it was me causing the problem, swinging on my chair and letting it squeak against the desk – or more like I didn’t realise that noise could be heard around the room and that was what he was interpellating about. When I understood, when I believed-suspected-knew (Backer, 2018) that it was me who was being called, I recognised myself as a subject (Althusser, 1970). The teacher and and the rest of the class understood it too – that I was the subject being callled into line. The emotion I felt was one of shame. I was interpellated successfully and did indeed ‘get with the programme’. I abruptly ended my disruptive behaviour and was quite silent and obedient in class for many lessons to follow. Also think of a moment or moments when you were called to do something, be someone but refused the call…

One example of an Ideological State Apparatus (Althusser, 1970) in my life comes in the form of a social media chat group. The ideology present in the chat rests in how one should behave as part of the group – one must agree that everyone with what is said in the group, and ratify the actions and behaviours of those in the group, no matter what. I often find myself refusing the call because I disagree with many behaviours of those in the group. I am resistant to the ideologies of the ‘state’ (Backer, 2018). In doing so I am isolated and not considered a true part of the group until I get with the programme and begin to behave in ways that are congruent with the values of the group.

Also think about moments when you were the interpellator, you were the one calling someone else to be a certain way/do a certain thing. What was involved? How did you feel? Did the person respond to your interpellation? If they did, how did you feel about them? If they didn't, how did you feel about them?

I can recall one incident, again a minor moment, when my authority as a classroom teacher was challenged by a student in the school group visiting my education facility. The young man in question mocked the way I said his name when the group was first introduced. This took place with an audience of the class looking on. I repeated his name as he had said it, and asked if I was correct with my pronunciation. He said his name once more and I realised I had been saying it correctly all along. I used humour to diffuse the situation and interpellate him into ‘getting with the programme’ (Backer, 2018). The group was there to get work together in collaborative fashion, offering resistance to the programme would only get in the way of our progress. The wider group laughed, and we all quickly moved on. While I felt an initial resistance to the young man after that incident, I made sure to build a connection with him, one-to-one, as soon as I was able to. It felt like we connected and were able to work together happily from then on. Being the interpellator was not always comfortable for me, particularly in the beginning of my teaching career. I would often be unsure in my position, and felt awkward wielding any authority, at times feeling almost fearful because of the thought that occurred in those moments: what happens if my interpellation fails? If the interlocutor resists and I am humiliated by this supposedly subservient being, this child? As I gained teaching experience, I understood interpellation much better, and believe each person finds their own style of interpellating learners. The style I have found that works for me over the years is that it is best done with reasonableness, keeping a calm manner and often with lightness and humour. The confidence to interpllate like this only comes from experience.

References:

 

Althusser, L. (1970). Ideology and ideological state apparatuses (notes towards an investigation). In L. Althusser, Lenin and philosophy and other essays (pp. 85-126). Monthly Review Press.

Backer, D. I. (2018). Interpellation, Counter-interpellation, and Education. Critical Education, 9(12), 1-21. https://doi.org/http://dx.doi.org/10.17613/M6VD6P449 

 

Te Tiriti and Identity in Education

This reflective statement follows a simple framework that offers three approaches to understanding Te Tiriti o Waitangi in education. The as a means of analysing and critically evaluating the discipline or learning area in relation to the treaty:

• in relation to oneself
• in relation to the discipline
• in relation to the wider institution/industry

Relating to oneself

- what is my positionality and identity?
- where am I in relation to Te Tiriti?
- how well do I understand the treaty – its history, context, articles, provisions, and principles?

Ko wai au? Who am I in this context?

Understanding oneself is the starting point of examining the role of Te Tiriti in my education context. Everything in education is situated, and both teachers and learners each approach their mahi from their own cultural, social, and political contexts (Wilson & Meyers, 2000). Reflecting on my own identity and positionality:

I was born in Ōtepoti/Dunedin and trace my tīpuna, on both my mother and father’s sides, back to Scotland. My mother’s family have lived in Aotearoa New Zealand, as far as I can tell, since the late 1800’s; in examining my whakapapa, I realised that my mother’s side goes back three generations before me in this country – further than I have always thought.

I am Pākehā, male, almost 50 years old, heterosexual, the de-facto married father of two teenaged children. My identity is influenced by these contexts which, though relational and complex, are not necessarily fixed (Martin & Van Gunten, 2002). My idea of the ‘self’ is transient, and open to including new possibilities.

My narrative identity in Education

The story of my experience (McAdams, 2011) in educational institutions in Aotearoa is one of success – I have always felt that I was smart enough to do well, both as a student and professional.

I always felt that I belonged within any educational institution I participated in. I received my schooling in mainstream, predominantly Pākehā institutions in the 1980’s and early 1990’s. The teachers looked like my parents, learning content spoke to my world of experience and prepared me for the big wide world, which was also mine.

I heard very little reo Māori, learned nothing of the marae, tikanga, or kawa. Mātauranga Māori was barely reflected in teaching and learning content throughout my whole education experience. Up until Teacher’s College, I did not learn anything about Te Tiriti o Waitangi until my post-graduate diploma in teaching.

As a professional in education, I worked in the non-profit sector for 9 years before joining Te Kunenga ki Pūrehuroa in 2019. My current roles in the university include work as a Senior Curriculum Developer, Team Lead, and Kaiārahi Tiriti. I have been studying towards a master’s degree for the last two years.

Over the years, I have moved towards a critical consciousness. I moved from the magical consciousness of primary and high school through to a naive consciousness (Freire, 2000) that began to form during my early tertiary education. Even then, I felt this system was for me, and it rarely occurred to me that anyone would feel they did not belong within it, were not reflected in the teaching and learning.

Counternarrative & critical consciousness

As I continue learning, a critical awareness has been creeping in. I am “developing, strengthening and changing (my) consciousness” (Montero, 2014, p. 296) and increasingly understanding the effects of this education system on others who do not feel they belong, who do not see their worldview or cultural understanding of knowledge reflected in the teaching approaches, the learning content, learning outcomes, or assessment practices.

I now see myself as part of the Pākehā hegemony, and I recognise that I am a beneficiary of “Pākehā structural advantage” (Shaw, 2024), an education system that ignored promises made in Te Tiriti o Waitangi and concentrated on educating people like me – at the expense of the aspirations and inclusion of Māori (Walker, 2016).

I am increasingly aware of my obligations as Tangata Tiriti in this country. My narrative identity has been reimagined (McAdams, 2011) to view myself as actively attempting to honour the obligations and commitments made by my ancestors, specifically through my changes to my teaching praxis. Moving from conscientization to transformative praxis (Smith, 2005; Freire, 2000) requires me to engage - intellectually and physically, emotionally, and even spiritually - in a kaupapa that sits outside the worldview that has been reflected at me throughout the entirety of my educational experience.  As a Pākehā in Aotearoa New Zealand, I need to ask “what is the nature of the obligation incumbent upon those of us who have benefited from colonisation?” (Shaw, 2021, p. 11)

I feel I am in the process of being conscientized, but have I been conscientized enough? I have moved away from a magical or naive consciousness (Freire, 2005), but there is always more to learn. I recognise in myself the non-linear, layered nature of moving into a critical consciousness and towards transformative praxis (Smith, 2005). Even as I learn, I continue to be oblivious to what I do not know in this space, through the Johari window of my awareness (Luft & Ingham,1961). Maintaining an awareness that there are blind spots in my understanding is essential in moving carefully forward, careful not to trample on or inadvertently colonise the kaupapa with my customary Pākehā-dominant mindset (Smith, 2012). Instead, I reimagine my fluid identity as being in resistance to the hegemony that I am a part of, reframing the narrative of myself to becoming the intentional opposite of an oppressor of Māori in the education space (Freire, 2005).

Relating to the discipline

- where can Te Tiriti provisions and principles be realised is this learning area/topic?
- what does equity look like in this space?
- what are hapū and iwi aspirations in this area?

Pedagogy, curriculum & assessment

My role in the university as Kaiārahi Tiriti (Tiriti o Waitangi mentor) has been a privilege. While not always a comfortable process, it has been instrumental to my conscientisation. This role has given me the time to gain a solid understanding of Te Tiriti, the context in which it was created, the intentions and aspirations behind its Articles, and some understanding of how the provisions and principles of the treaty may be applied in contemporary contexts.

Through my work as a Kaiārahi Tiriti and Curriculum Developer, across the university to develop courses and learning programmes. In my mahi, I have uncovered two useful questions to use when working alongside teaching teams:

• -        Where is Te Tiriti present?
• -        Do we have equity between Māori and non-Māori in these spaces?

Specifically, within teaching and learning practices, I am beginning to understand how Te Tiriti can be realised in the education space through the different questions relating to Tiriti provisions and principles that can be put to the practice.

For example, we might ask: what does the provision of ‘kāwanatanga’ in Article 1 of Te Tiriti look like in tertiary education?

Implementing the treaty principle of good ‘governance’ (from translations of the Māori text completed by Kawharu 1989, and Mutu, 2011), kāwanatanga might mean ensuring Māori are involved with the development of programmes and courses, that teachers work with Māori to co-create a new future of education. Another example of kāwanatanga – the treaty principle of both governance and partnership (Jones, 2024) – is ensuring that course content concerning Māori and Māori collectives is developed in consultation with Māori experts to ensure it represents authoritative, strengths-based perspectives (Bishop & Berryman, 2006; Te Hurihanganui, 2020).

What does Tino rangatiratanga (Article 2) look like in teaching practice? This might consist of ensuring the “legacies of indigenous resistance and resilience on the lands you are teaching on” (Tawhai, 2024, p. 49) are a distinct part of the teaching and learning experience for students; that the pūrākau, perspectives, and aspirations of mana whenua are considered and embedded in the learning material.

A foundational concept of realising Te Tiriti within education is understanding that Māori students are taonga (Article 2), and teaching teams should concentrate, first and foremost, on developing positive relationships and interactions with Māori learners and their wider communities (Bishop & Berryman, 2007).

There are plenty more prompts and provocations we can use to continue this mahi: What do Māori pedagogies look like in this space?

• -        What are hapū and iwi aspirations in this area?
• -        What would equity between western and indigenous knowledge look like in this space?
• -        Where do Māori learners see themselves reflected in the teaching and learning?
  

This type of questioning of Te Tiriti’s place within a given subject can lead to transformative change, becoming a means of meaningfully realising the ambitions of Te Tiriti in teaching and learning practice (Smith, 2005). Overall, the intention of these interrogations is to build an education practice in which Māori learners have equity with other learners, where Māori feel a sense of belonging and a positive emotional engagement with their learning, teachers, and peers (Kahu, 2014). 

Connections to Western teaching and learning theory

It is easy to look at the what good, Te Tiriti-led teaching and learning might look like and make connections to established Western teaching and learning theories for effective practice.

For instance, teaching and learning that provides authentic learning experiences and authentic contexts for Māori to learn as Māori (Bishop & Berryman, 2007), or engage in tasks, activities, and assessments that hold meaning for them (Herrington, 2014), relates to the treaty principles of equity and equitable outcomes (Article 3 of Te Tiriti) as well as tino rangatiratanga (Article 2).

The idea of tino rangatiratanga – self-determination (Tawhai, 2024) – aligns with constructivist approaches, where learners are encouraged to have agency over their learning, exploring content and tasks that are authentic for the learner and allow them to create meaning for themselves (Ng, 2015). One example of how this might be realised is by creating allowances for student agency in completing assessment tasks, encouraging learners to evidence their understanding of learning in ways that are relevant to their experience, reflect their culture and utilise their strengths.

Research interviews conducted by Bishop and Berryman (2007) stressed the importance of relationships on learners, reflecting foundational learning theories of effective engagement outlined in the 1980’s by Moore, who noted the importance of considering how learners interacted in three distinct ways: with their teachers, the learning content, and their peers. Māori learners and their whānau identified the absolute importance of creating positive interactions between teacher and their students, an idea that is confirmed in other research stressing the importance of catering to the emotional elements of learning (Delahunty et al., 2013; Kahu, 2014) for building learner engagement and success.

Based on teaching and learning theory, many across the university already provide learning experiences and engage with their students in ways that reflect the principles and provisions of Te Tiriti. Creating an awareness of how such practices explicitly relate to the principles and provisions of Te Tiriti will allow teaching teams to do this intentionally, and to build on their practice in meaningful ways.

 

Relating to the Institution

- what might Te Tiriti look like in the future of this industry/ this institution?

While Te Tiriti is a blueprint for transforming teaching, it can also be the foundation for reimagining our educational institutions. This change occurs as we become critically conscious of the way students engage with the learning we provide, how they feel a sense welcome and of belonging, how the learning content reflects their aspirations and those of their communities.

The context that frames this reflective statement is the university that I work within as a curriculum developer. In our 2022-2027 strategic plan, the institution announced that it would become Te Tiriti o Waitangi-led, determined to uphold the provisions and principles of this founding document of the nation in all aspects of teaching and learning (Te Kunenga ki Pūrehuroa Massey University Strategy, 2022).

Any collective identity exists without a real, tangible foundation except the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves (Deltis & Maneval, 2019). Making the public statement that we aspire to be Tiriti-led is the beginning of retelling the story of ourselves (McAdams, 2011) as an institute, and asserting our place in the tertiary education landscape of Aotearoa New Zealand, reimagining our collective identity as one of being leaders in this cultural space.

Enacting such change at an institutional level is no mean feat. In the same way that individuals carry levels of critical awareness, so too do the institutions that we work within. Organisational processes and systemic ways of operating that sit at a magical or naïve level often create a hidden curriculum, the “unstated rules” (Anderson, 2001, p. 30) for achieving success within that institution. Historically, in many education institutions in Aotearoa New Zealand, these rules have heavily favoured Pākehā/Western learners while disadvantaging Māori (Walker, 2016). This type of hidden curriculum is still present and embedded in many institutions, making it challenging and at times even impossible for Māori to succeed as Māori (Bishop & Berryman, 2007) within that educational setting.

To affect change, education institutions need to move from a collective magical or naïve consciousness to becoming collectively conscientized (Freire, 2005) through the interrogation of our own practices. This requires reimaging our institutional identity, creating a counter -hegemony that resists the historic and entrenched practices (Adkin, 2022) that disadvantage Māori learners.

Smith (2005) suggested that Māori were a part of the struggle against the Pākehā hegemony “whether they liked it or not, whether they knew it or not” (p. 39); this in turn means that Pākehā, as wielders of that hegemony, are a part of the struggle also - whether they know it or not, whether they like it or not. What does it take for members of the cultural (Pākehā) hegemony to challenge and change a system that so heavily favours them? 
Transformation might begin with a mindset shift, away from the individualistic identities encouraged in Western/Pākehā spaces towards prioritising the collective, aligning more with Kaupapa Māori approaches to teaching and learning (Smith, 2005).

This aspiration to become Te Tiriti-led requires us to reimagine ourselves within the hegemonic imagination of our society (Paris, 2016), both as an educational institution and as individuals within that institution. Ibrahim (2017) identifies three steps for inducing social change: conscientizing individuals, supporting acts of collective agency through conciliation, and promoting reform through collaboration. A Te Tiriti-led approach asks individuals to develop critical consciousness on “their personal role in disrupting racism and discriminatory practices (Te Hurihanganui, 2020), a ‘resistant imagination’ that allows for the possibility of change by undoing our social understanding of ourselves and others (Paris, 2016).

The learning and developing awareness of individuals, such as myself, around Te Tiriti in education as part of the Kairārahi Tiriti initiative leads to change that permeates all areas of the institution and will lead to a steadily growing positive impact for Māori learners. The conscientisation of an institution will occur like this, through changes to the critical consciousness and awareness of one individual at a time. 

References

Adkin, L., 2022 Hegemony and counter hegemony in Showing Theory to Know Theory  https://doi.org/10.22215/stkt/al18 https://ecampusontario.pressbooks.pub/showingtheory/chapter/hegemony-and-counter-hegemony/

Anderson, T. (2001). The Hidden Curriculum in Distance Education: An Updated View. Change, 33(6), 28-35.

Bishop, R., & Berryman, M. (2006). Culture speaks. [electronic resource]: cultural relationships and classroom learning. Huia Publishers.

Bishop, R., Berryman, M., Cavanagh, T., & Teddy, L. (2007). Te Kōtahitanga Phase 3 Whānaungatanga: Establishing a culturally responsive pedagogy of relations in mainstream secondary school classrooms. Wellington: Ministry of Education, 81-90.

Delahunty, J., Verenikina, I., & Jones, P. (2013). Socio-emotional connections: identity, belonging and learning in online interactions. A literature review. Technology, Pedagogy and Education, 23(2), 243-265. https://doi.org/10.1080/1475939x.2013.813405

Delits, H., & Maneval, S. (2019). The “hidden kings”, or hegemonic imaginaries: Analytical perspective of post-foundational social thought. Societes, 146(4), 25-41.

Freiri, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed. Continuim.     

Herrington, J., Mitchell, V., Rowe, M., & Titus, S. (2014). The case studies - Authentic learning. In V. Bozalek, D. Ng’ambi, D. Wood, J. Herrington, J. Hardman, & A. Amory (Eds.), Activity theory, authentic learning and emerging technologies: Towards a transformative higher education pedagogy (pp. 192-210). Taylor and Francis. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/massey/reader.action?docID=1783964&ppg=219

Ibrahim, S. (2017). How to Build Collective Capabilities: The 3C-Model for Grassroots-Led Development. Journal of Human Development and Capabilities, 18(2), 197–222.

Jones, C. Treaty principles a principle of good government. Waateanews.com https://waateanews.com/2024/03/19/treaty-principles-a-principle-of-good-government/

Kahu, E. (2014) Increasing the emotional engagement of first year mature-aged distance students: Interest and belonging The International Journal of the First Year in Higher Education 5(2), 45-55

Kawharu, I. H. (1989). Waitangi: Māori and Pākehā perspectives of the Treaty of Waitangi. Oxford University Press

Luft, J., & Ingham, H. (1961). The johari window. Human relations training news, 5(1), 6-7.

Martin, R. J., & Van Gunten, D. M. (2002). Reflected identities: Applying positionality and multicultural social reconstructionism in teacher education. Journal of Teacher Education, 53(1), 44-54.

McAdams, D. P. (2011). Narrative identity. Handbook of identity theory and research, (Eds). Schwartz SJ, Luyckx K., Vignoles VLNY.

Ministry of Education - Te Tāhuhu o te Mātauranga (2020). Te Hurihanganui https://www.education.govt.nz/our-work/overall-strategies-and-policies/te-hurihanganui/

Montero, M, (2014) Conscientization, in Teo, T. (Ed.). (2014). Encyclopedia of critical psychology. Springer. pp. 296-300

Mutu, M. (2011). The state of Māori rights. Huia Publishers

Ng, W. (2015). Theories Underpinning Learning with Digital Technologies. In New Digital Technology in Education (pp. 73-94). https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-05822-1_4        

Paris, W. M. (2016). Assata Shakur, Mamphela Ramphele, and the Developing of Resistant Imaginations. Critical Philosophy of Race, 4(2), 205–220. https://doi.org/10.5325/critphilrace.4.2.0205

Shaw R. A Tale of Two Stories: Unsettling a Settler Family’s History in Aotearoa New Zealand. Genealogy. 2021; 5(1):26. https://doi.org/10.3390/genealogy5010026

Shaw, R., 2024, Richard Shaw: The Unsettled, RNZ National https://www.rnz.co.nz/audio/player?audio_id=2018933146

Smith, G. H. (2005). Beyond Political Literacy: From Conscientization to Transformative Praxis. Counterpoints, 275, 29-42

Smith, G.H. (2012). Kaupapa Māori - the dangers of domestication. New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies, 47(2), 10-21 https://www.jstor.org/stable/42978775

Tawhai, V. (2024) Mā te ihu o te waka – Te Tiriti as our guide in educational settings. In Maro, P. Te; Averill, R (Eds.) Ki Te Hoe! Education for Aotearoa NZCER Press, 2023. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/massey/detail.action?docID=30371475

Te Kunenga ki Pūrehuroa Massey University Strategy, 2022 -2027 (2022) https://www.massey.ac.nz/documents/806/Massey_University_Strategy_WEB_EN.pdf

Walker, R. (2016). Reclaiming Māori education. Decolonisation in Aotearoa: Education, research and practice, 19-38.

Wilson, B. G., & Meyers, K. M. (2000). Situated Cognition in Theoretical and Practical context. In D. H. J. S. M. Land (Ed.), Theoretical foundations of learning environments (pp. 57-58). Lawrence Earlbaum Associates.