What if we told the truth – to our kids?

by Rebecca Thomas

Lay Your Dreams: A kōrero for our tamariki — past, present, and rising. They are the dream-carriers.

Like so many others on this page — and in the circles of education that still hold our tamariki and their whakapapa with deep reverence — yesterday I was all things at once:

Angry.

Frustrated.

Ashamed.

Utterly heartbroken.

The release of NZC 2025 ( I refuse to address it as Te Mātaiaho) was one blow — but what broke me was the sound of our Minister’s voice on RNZ: smug, dismissive, dishonest.

The casual way she spoke of the curriculum rewrite — the stripping of Māori authorship, the outsourcing to Australia — as if it were just another office memo. The way she dodged every question, leaned into every falsehood, and claimed her empty roadshows were overflowing with support.

The not so 'overflowing' curriculum roadshow at Rotorua

I have the photos. I’ve read the Cabinet Manual.

I’ve drafted lists of breaches and lies, like Richard Manning has done before me, I tossed the idea of 'no confidence' around with defiance.

I’ve explored the Public Service Commission, Treaty claims, censure motions, #no curriculum letters.

And for a moment — I believed we might be able to hold her to account.

But then my thoughts drifted.

Not to power, or Parliament, or petitions — but to our kids.

What Would Our Tamariki Do If They Knew The Truth?

If our tamariki — the very reason we do this work — were being misled, overruled, or silenced, what would they do?

Would they write letters? Would they lodge complaints?

Or would they create? Would they speak? Would they tell the truth the way only they can — unfiltered and unafraid?

And that’s when I remembered something.

The Video We Made at Waitangi — Before the Mess

On strike day, some of us from ELV travelled to Waitangi. Not to protest, not to perform — but to make something small and true.

We’re not filmmakers. We didn’t have lights or scripts. But we had the words. They became the heart of a video we called Lay Your Dreams — part poem, part kōrero, part remembering.

Words woven into a three-part kōrero:

• What was promised under the flagstaff

• What the children of Tai Tokerau said during silent debates

• And what we might do next, together, in the spirit of ako tahi

  
  

It was always meant to be gifted forward. We thought maybe the AEC might use it, might carry it further.

But now?

Now it feels like this was exactly the moment it was made for.

Let This Be A Spark

The new curriculum dropped — and with it, Te Mātaiaho was erased in name and spirit.

The Minister continues her campaign of performance politics, armed with PR instead of partnership.

So what now?

What if we showed this video to our Boards of Trustees?

What if we showed it to our ākonga?

What if we used it to frame a conversation about what learning is meant to be, and what it has become?

What if, instead of going toe to toe with spin doctors, we simply told the truth — together?

If They Rip It From the Page, We Must Weave It Into Our Practice

If they refuse to genuinely honour Te Mātaiaho,

If we are no longer trusted to lead the weaving of a curriculum grounded in whakapapa, then we must carry it another way.

We must:

• Teach it in our practice

• Speak it in our whānau hui

• Frame it in our student work

• Let it live in every question, every story, every act of ako tahi

  
  

Let the video be the starting point.

Watch it with your team.

Play it with your class.

Ask your tamariki:

• What do you see?

• What do you feel?

• What was promised to you when you walked through the school gates?

• What kind of learning feels like home?

  
  

This Is How We Begin Again

We may not have the microphones of Parliament.

But we do have each other.

We have our voices.

We have our creativity.

And we have the truth.

When all else feels out of reach, we turn to the people closest to the cloth: our students, our boards, our communities.

We say:

This is what’s being done.

This is what’s being lost.

And this is what we still carry.

Because even if the policy changes, we remember the promise. We remember that education was always meant to be a partnership — not a performance.

Watch 'Lay Your Dreams'

Use it.

Share it.

Sit with it.

Let it become whatever it needs to become in your kura.

Ask:

What now?

What next?

And Tread Softly…

Tread softly through your classroom.

Tread softly through your kura.

Tread softly through the dreams your students carry in silence.

Because when policy tears the cloth,

we remember how to weave.

And when leadership forgets how to lead,

we remember who we’re walking with.

This is not over.

This is only the beginning of remembering.