colouring in the white spaces

Colouring in the White Spaces
Cultural Identity and Learning in
School. Anne Milne
When we look at a new page in a child’s colouring book we tend to think of it as ‘blank’
with spaces to be coloured in. We don’t often consider the fact that it is already coloured
in – with white. White is the ‘invisible’ colour, because it’s just ‘there’ as the whole
background. Also already on the page are lines – boundaries that tell you where you are
allowed to put, and confine, any colours you choose to add. My study suggests that
schools are “white spaces” – part of wider society’s white spaces. The white is just
‘there’ as the background set of rules that dictate whose knowledge is important, what
success looks like, what achievement matters, how the space is organised and who has
the power
Ka Hikitia: Lost in Translation
Mainstream education’s goals for Maori learners for the next four to five years are espoused
in the Ministry of Education’s Maori Education Strategy, Ka Hikitia. Ka Hikitia says all the
words we would hope to see in a pathway towards Maori success and the intent of the
strategy is difficult to fault. However, in the goal of Ka Hikitia, “Maori children enjoying
education success, as Maori,” (my emphasis) the two key words, ‘as Maori’ are the most
important words in the whole document, and will be the two words most ignored by schools
who have no understanding of what “as Maori” might look like. “As Maori” is destined to
become another white space, in that it will be reinvented and seen as no different to “as
Pakeha.” (Milne, 2008). This is not necessarily a deliberate action on the part of principals
and school leadership, but is indicative of the lack of understanding that is endemic in our
system.
The Ministry of Education states explicitly that ensuring the success of Maori in education is
a key priority. Less explicit is a definition of what that ‘success’ will look like. Our
predominant indicators of success centre on improvement of literacy – in English – and of
numeracy scores, national qualifications results and entrance to university. These might well
be Maori and Pasifika aspirations, but Duncan-Andrade (2006) asks, what is the cost we are
prepared to pay for these outcomes? Duncan-Andrade (2006) states that middle class white
children tend to come to school with faith that the system will reproduce itself to their
benefit, a sense of purpose in the larger society and a sense of hope that their purpose will
be fulfilled. Non-white children tend to come to school with big questions in each of those
areas.
Our definition of achievement and success might be the popular national measures, such as
the National Certificate of Educational Achievement (NCEA) credits, literacy, numeracy,
university preparation or university enrolment, but there is little doubt that without the
human measures such as a positive self identity, critical awareness, purpose and hope,
young people will become disengaged and disillusioned with school, and find the national
goals unattainable.
Otero and West Burnham (2006) state that the success criteria we are focused on currently
are those of a previous generation. They believe that, “Our focus on school improvement
leads to bonding, introspection and detachment, which compromises engagement and
networking – the basis of the creation of social capital.” Durie, in a longitudinal study (2003,
p.68) finds that a secure identity is a necessary prerequisite for good health and well-being.
If we are serious about engaging Maori and Pasifika youth in learning, in ways that will equip
them for the future, it is time to examine our definitions of success and achievement and to
develop learning models that will allow them to develop secure identities throughout their
learning experience at school.
The experiences of Maori in the ongoing struggle to keep their unique identities, against
deliberate policies and processes of colonisation, assimilation, integration,
multiculturalism and biculturalism, are those of indigenous people world-wide. The
following section provides a snapshot of some examples of where a secure indigenous
identity is framed as a distant memory and a contested space.