Education Was Never Meant to Be a 'Portfolio'

Jul 15
4 min read

by Rebecca Thomas

Across the motu, something’s shifting — and not in the direction of trust.

Maybe you’ve felt it too.

That sharp turn toward data as doctrine.

That sense that some regions — some communities — are now quietly carrying the weight of looming red flags.

That achievement and attendance are no longer conversations, but performance indicators for someone else’s report to justify the existence of their Ministry job.

It feels like we’ve been placed under observation.

What It Looks Like in Our Community

In our schools, the pressure is mounting.

Emails. Visits.

Unexpected visits.

Uninvited demands for updates.

Door-knockers.

Check-ins dressed up as support — but loaded with expectation.

We suspect what’s coming next—another layer of control.

Not because we’ve failed our tamariki — but because someone needs to show they’ve fixed something.

Here’s what the visitors don’t see:

That whānau are already stretched
That kaiako are holding far more than lesson plans
That the gaps in data reflect the gaps in housing, food, mental health, and support — not commitment

What will happen if the next step is taken?

Perhaps Commissioners may be installed.

Then communities will disengage.

Staff morale will plummet.

Recruitment will become near impossible.

And still, the poverty and trauma will remain — more visible to us than any dashboard could ever capture.

How Did Education Become This?

Education has become a 'portfolio' —In every true sense of the word.

A package to be carried.

A collection of evidence.

A mark of achievement.

Something to present, to manage, to perform.

But our schools were never meant to be someone’s political showcase.

Our tamariki deserve more than to be measured by numbers.

Our teachers deserve better than to be manoeuvred by policy.

We don’t teach for bonuses.

We don’t turn up to school each day for some imagined data win.

We do it because we care — and because we’ve always cared.

So why is there such a desperate need for a surveillance approach to education?

Do they truly believe we don’t want the very best for our kids?

We always said this kind of system would create disengagement.

That suspicion would breed resistance.

That people can’t thrive when they’re being constantly watched instead of trusted.

What if the question isn’t how we reimagine education, curriculum, or leadership — but how we reimagine the actual 'portfolio' itself?

The one that lands on a desk in Wellington.

The one passed from one Minister to the next, loaded with targets, spreadsheets, and media expectations.

Could that be reimagined?

Could we strip it back, unbox it, and return it to the people it’s supposed to serve?

Because maybe the problem isn’t just the policies.

Maybe it’s the idea that education could ever be contained in a 'portfolio' at all.

I’ve always said that politics and education don’t blend.

Too often, politics demands quick wins.

Education demands long-term relationships.

One is shaped by news cycles, the other by life cycles.

So I held my breath when I heard a new Minister had been handed the portfolio for Labour.

Over the weekend, I watched MATA | Season 3 | Willow-Jean Prime on Education, Bootcamps, and a Ngāpuhi Settlement on RNZ.

Willow-Jean Prime — recently given the education portfolio for her party — didn’t claim to have all the answers. She didn’t roll out sweeping declarations or pretend to fix everything overnight. What she did offer was concern, humility, and a willingness to listen.

She said that there are several key areas of concern:

First, we need to focus on learning support. She addressed that the current system isn't adequately addressing the diverse needs of our students.
She’s also worried about proposed curriculum changes and the potential for increased standardised testing.
Her fundamental belief is that they must develop policy through sector-led approaches – working closely with educators, not imposing top-down mandates.

And this, especially, resonated deeply:

"We have to work with the sector, trust them, back them."

While one hopes these sentiments arise from a genuine place — from listening, not leveraging — it made me wonder:

What would a reimagined portfolio look like if those words were real?

What would it take to work with the sector again and trust them back?

A Reimagined Portfolio Would...

Decentralise power: It wouldn’t sit neatly in one office. It would flow outward — to kura, to whānau, to hapū and iwi who know their communities best.
Shift the metrics: Away from standardised testing and toward wellbeing, belonging, hauora, and creative, critical thinking.
Trust the sector: Not just in consultation phases but in co-design, decision-making, and leading their own solutions. Trust wouldn’t be symbolic. It would be structural.
Braid the strands: Interweaving Te Ao Māori, neurodiversity, trauma-informed practice, identity, culture, and local wisdom — not as additions, but as foundations.
Refuse the surveillance model: Because education isn’t something to police. A reimagined portfolio would build relationships instead of oversight mechanisms. It would ask: How do we uplift? Not - How do we track?
Restore mana: Not just of the Minister, but of kaiako, tumuaki, support staff, whānau — everyone who has held the system upright when it was falling down.

Because if Willow-Jean Prime meant what she said — and I want to believe she did — then maybe we’re standing at the edge of a different kind of approach.

One that remembers:

A portfolio isn’t something to carry with pride. It’s something to carry with care.

And in truth — it actually sounds like the whakapapa of Te Mātaiaho we lost (RIP2019).

That braided, co-designed, courageous vision that centred whakapapa, voice, belonging, and strength. A vision that honoured the lived realities of our ākonga and called us into deeper, more honest work.

Maybe it’s not too late to return to it after all.

Maybe this time, we don’t hand over education as a 'portfolio'.

We hold it — as a collective, as a covenant, as a taonga.

Not to measure.

But to protect.