So You Know Your Government Is Whitewashing the Curriculum. What Can We Do?

by Rebecca Thomas

Artwork by Raewyn Harris

I've spent the weekend reflecting on Jessie Moss's powerful article exposing how anti-Māori, ideology is determining what our tamariki learn in school. If you haven't read it yet, please do. It meticulously documents how a small group with specific ideological leanings has gained extraordinary control over our curriculum development.

What struck me most wasn't just the distressing content of Jessie's piece, but the conversations it sparked. Teachers, parents, academics, and community leaders reaching out—some angry, some heartbroken, but all of them determined.

Yes, there's a right-wing ideology sitting at the top of the ivory tower. 

Yes, we have evidence of mātauranga Māori being deliberately sidelined by those who believe, as Elizabeth Rata put it, that "there is no place for traditional knowledge in a curriculum except as an object of study." 

And yes, the Crown has explicitly admitted there are "fewer direct references to Te Tiriti" in the new curriculum.

But in every school I visit, in every community hui I attend, I see something the ministerial advisory group doesn't account for - resistance. 

Beautiful, determined, creative resistance.

The Ground Truth

Let me tell you what I'm actually seeing in our schools—the reality that Rata and her ideological allies fail to comprehend or choose to ignore.

Schools across Aotearoa are continuing to actively look for disparities in education and bridging those gaps using culturally responsive pedagogies. They're improving their interactions with students by taking te ao Māori as a guide because they know—through evidence and lived experience—that what works for Māori works for everyone. This isn't some radical proposition; it's pedagogy backed by results.

What Rata and her advisory group fundamentally misunderstand is that te ao Māori isn't merely "topics" or "pockets of knowledge" that can be sidelined or relegated to "an object of study." It's a way of being. It's relational. It's holistic. And it's happening in classrooms right now, regardless of what the official curriculum documents might say.

I recently watched a teacher in Northland open her day with the usual taumata led by the students that shared their mihi, this then seamlessly transitioned into a mathematics lesson where students worked collaboratively, supporting each other's learning in ways that reflected tuakana-teina relationships. There was no separation between "Māori knowledge" and "real knowledge"—just good teaching informed by te ao Māori perspectives.

Our Students

Perhaps what gives me the most hope is what I see in our rangatahi. I'm witnessing a strong cohort of students growing before me who are confident in their identities and understand the impact colonisation had on their tūpuna. They know what it is to be comfortable in their whakapapa.

These young people understand the historical wrongs and—this is crucial—they see tangata Tiriti working alongside them, supporting them to find their voice. They recognise the false dichotomy Rata presents between a "prosperous first-world liberal democratic nation or a third-world retribalised state," understanding that this framing ignores the possibility of a nation that embraces both democracy and Indigenous self-determination. They know that reclaiming Indigenous knowledge and identity strengthens rather than weakens our collective future.

When I hear students confidently articulating how mātauranga Māori offers solutions to contemporary problems—from environmental management to community wellbeing—I see the future Rata fears but that many of us welcome: a truly bicultural Aotearoa where multiple knowledge systems inform our collective decision-making.

Our Teachers

Behind every student standing proudly in their cultural identity are teachers working tirelessly to make it possible. I see teachers breaking down barriers daily—not just talking about it, but doing the actual work.

These are teachers who, after a full day in the classroom, spend late evenings learning te reo Māori. Not because a curriculum document told them to, but because they understand its value for their students and themselves. I know primary school teachers who attend night classes, secondary teachers who practice with apps during their lunch breaks, and entire staff rooms where basic conversations happen in te reo as teachers support each other's learning journey.

These educators aren't waiting for permission from a ministerial advisory group. 

They're not asking Elizabeth Rata whether mātauranga Māori deserves a place in their teaching. 

They're doing what they know works for their students, informed by evidence, experience, and relationships with their communities.

If you're reading this feeling angry or discouraged, I want to offer some concrete actions that make a difference:

1. Support our teachers. They're on the front lines of this struggle. Ask how you can help them bring diverse knowledge systems into their classrooms despite official constraints.

2. Connect with local knowledge holders. Our communities are filled with experts in mātauranga Māori who can supplement what's missing in schools.

3. Document and share success stories. When you see schools successfully integrating mātauranga Māori despite the new curriculum, amplify those stories.

4. Build networks. Connect with others who share your concerns. The Aotearoa Educators Collective and NZATE are good starting points.

5. Learn te reo yourself. Nothing challenges the notion that Indigenous knowledge is irrelevant more powerfully than actively engaging with it.

6. Challenge the false dichotomies. Whenever someone suggests we must choose between "Western knowledge" and "Māori knowledge," reject the premise entirely.

   
   

While we must respond to immediate threats, we should also take the longer view.

Political ideologies come and go. Governments change.

What endures are the relationships we build and the values we instill in our children.

I recently spoke with a kuia who has seen multiple curriculum changes over her decades in education. "The paper changes," she told me, "but the heart of teaching doesn't. We have always found ways to pass on what matters most."

That wisdom gives me hope. The ministerial advisory group may control what goes into official documents, but they don't control what happens in thousands of classrooms across Aotearoa every day. They don't control the conversations between teachers and students, between parents and children, between communities and schools.

Rata and her colleagues may fear a "retribalised state," but what they're really frightened of is a future where power is genuinely shared, where multiple ways of knowing are valued, and where our education system reflects the fullness of who we are as a nation. That future is already emerging in classrooms across the country, regardless of what the curriculum documents say.

Share your stories of resistance and hope in the comments below or reach out directly. 

Together, we ensure that our education system reflects the full richness of who we are as a nation—not just the narrow vision of those temporarily holding power.

The struggle for justice in education continues. It always has. And we will not back down.

Engaging Learning Voices is committed to amplifying diverse perspectives in education. The views expressed here are our own and informed by ongoing conversations with educators, academics, and community members across Aotearoa.