“Chaotic and Imploding” — That Couldn’t Be Closer to Our Truth

By Rebecca Thomas

"‘Science of learning’ and ‘knowledge-rich’ are mentioned everywhere, defined nowhere,” said NZ Principals’ Federation president Leanne Otene this week.

We watched the news headline roll in yesterday with a wince of recognition. Leanne Otene’s words—“chaotic and imploding”—weren’t just words — they struck with the weight of truth. Because after spending the end of Term 2 deep-diving into our Kahui Ako data to prepare for transitions, the fog of uncertainty that has been slowly creeping in finally surrounded us.

This isn't a policy debate for us. This is our reality.

Educators who once moved confidently through e-asTTle and curriculum levels now find themselves hesitant, second-guessing, and unsure of what sits beneath each assessment phase. Navigating the curriculum refresh feels like trying to steer through cloud cover without instruments — we’re already in the air, mid-course, while the coordinates keep shifting and the destination keeps changing.

There’s a cruel irony here. The “knowledge-rich” curriculum is being delivered in a way that’s starving teachers of the very knowledge we need to understand it. The Ministry speaks of structure, coherence, clarity—but in our staffrooms, there’s confusion, contradiction, and a quiet sense of despair.

Most of us just busy ourselves in classrooms and the manic rhythm of term events — not because things are fine, but because it’s easier than facing the reality we know is happening just outside our bubbles.

The language of certainty doesn’t match the lived experience.

Last week, two experienced kaiako sat with me, papers spread, data sets open, and we scrambled—truly scrambled—to make sense of it all. The urgency was there: transitions approaching, CAA data in hand (and shocking), and still we asked...

Where do we begin? 

How do we align?

We are currently analysing assessment in a vacuum—trying to ready a cohort of learners to transition through primary, intermediate, and into high-stakes CAAs, without the tools, clarity, or alignment needed to support that journey.

As teachers, we are translating assessment data into “old money” just to find meaning. For maths, we’re piecing together phase maps with best-guess judgement. But for reading and writing, the picture is blurrier. Tools like e-asTTle—once familiar—no longer align with the refreshed curriculum. And yet, no phase descriptors (as they are still 'in draft form') exist to interpret what progress looks like for Year 7 and 8 learners. So we’re left to guess, to scramble.

And now, we are told the tool we’ve relied on—e-asTTle—is no longer “fit for purpose.” That it doesn’t measure progress accurately against this so-called “knowledge-rich” curriculum.

e-asTTle didn't break.

The curriculum did.

And instead of slowing down to repair what’s unclear, we are replacing what works.

We were told e-asTTle would be replaced. A tool that was developed here, by us, for our learners, and aligned with our curriculum. A tool born out of New Zealand research, built by the University of Auckland.

Now, the Ministry has confirmed that e-asTTle will be replaced by SMART—the Student Monitoring Assessment and Reporting Tool—designed and delivered by Australian ed-tech company Janison. SMART will not arrive until 2026.

That means more PLD, more rollout, more disruption for educators who are already exhausted. We are expected to hold the line for another year. Expected to explain this to whānau. Expected to translate misaligned data. Expected to prepare for a tool we didn’t ask for, built offshore, using a curriculum that still lacks definition.

What we’re seeing now is educational outsourcing.

Assessment for Sale

We are not just talking about a tool. We are talking about data sovereignty, assessment literacy, and educational tino rangatiratanga.

When an Australian company holds the keys to our national assessment platform, we’ve crossed a threshold. We’ve taken a vital instrument of learner support—one deeply entwined with kaiako judgment, mātauranga Māori, and local context—and outsourced it to a global vendor.

This is the same Janison that delivers NAPLAN Online in Australia. The same company whose platforms are tailored for government contracts, exam management, and AI-assisted item generation.

Yes, their tech is sleek.

But it is not ours.

Their decisions will shape the ways kaiako interact with data, how ākonga are measured, and how whānau are reported to. Yet none of this is happening with local authorship or relational accountability. The transition from e-asTTle to SMART may come with shinier dashboards—but the cost is kaiako capacity, cultural depth, and curriculum sovereignty.

We are now renting our own reflection back from overseas.

This Is More Than a Curriculum Refresh. It’s a Warning.

Education is not a market.

Assessment is not a commodity.

Yet decisions like this signal otherwise.

It signals a shift: 

– Away from kaiako voice 

– Away from place-based wisdom 

– Away from relational accountability.

And towards: 

– Technocratic policy (decisions are made by experts or officials based mostly on data, systems, and models — instead of listening to the people who are directly affected)

– Vendor deliverables 

– Profitable pathways for others, not our ākonga

Educators are not afraid of change.

We are not resistant to reform.

But we do fear chaos wrapped in confidence, sold as clarity. 

We fear what happens when kaiako are left to guess. 

And we fear what this moment might cost our tamariki.

The truth is: when the assessment literacy of kaiako plummets, the collateral damage lands on learners. The system is rushed, disconnected, politically motivated — making that harder than ever to right by our kids.

So no, it’s not “working really well.” 

It’s not “clear.” 

I agree with Leanne Otene.

It’s chaotic. It’s imploding.

And now, it’s for sale.