Maori Kids Are Dumb, Mr V.
Saturday 21st April 2007


The message on the answerphone was brief. “Ollie won’t be back at school this term. Child, Youth and Family pulled the plug and sent him up north.”

Ollie came to our school in February; six years old, Maori, bursting out of his skin.

Ollie was a handful. He was one of those kids that you brace yourself for when you see him coming. His story is sad - and sadly common. His life veers between neglect and abuse, in which he is both victim and perpetrator. He has learned to mistrust the adults who move in and out of his life, and who demonstrate only infrequent and volatile love. His vocabulary is peppered with gang slogans, matched with a swagger masking deep insecurities.

His departure after only one term continues the ongoing disaster of his life. With a child like Ollie it takes at least a term just to calm him down. Now he has to begin that process all over again in a new town, a new home and a new school.

After a few more of these transitions – and there will be more – Ollie will be pretty much lost to education. Even the natural optimism of youth is no protection against constant disappointment and there will come a time when Ollie is no longer prepared to suspend his disbelief in a world that promises so much yet delivers so little.

Earlier this week, in a hotel in Mangere, South Auckland, I sat with 200 other primary and secondary school principals and listened to a speech from Apryll Parata, the Ministry of Education’s deputy secretary for Maori. She painted the familiar picture of Maori failure in education and chastised us for turning our backs on Maori students. The image was poignant. The streets around us teemed with young Maori and Pacific Islanders but the hotel’s windows faced inward to a courtyard garden and swimming pool.

Mrs Parata did not mince her words. Maori, she said, want the same things as pakeha. They want to live in the confidence of their culture, to actively participate as citizens of the world, to enjoy good health and a high standard of living. Why then, she asked, after 130 years of state-funded education, do we fail to provide young Maori with the means of achieving these goals?

Our failure is all the more regrettable for having one of the best education systems in the world. On average New Zealand students outperform almost all others. But our education system is also one of the most inequitable, with large numbers of students who fail to achieve, many of them Maori.

We sat in that conference room and squirmed under Mrs Parata’s words. There were murmurs of outrage: ‘it’s not our fault, we do our best, we need more resources.’

Mrs Parata was relentless. Maori achievement doesn’t need more resources, she said. It needs a shift of attitude. Maori students fail to achieve because they feel they don’t belong.

Actually, a student’s achievement or failure is determined by a whole lot of things. Schools often let themselves off the hook by blaming poor home life and lack of parenting skills. Parents blame schools for poor teaching and discriminatory practises. Everybody blames the government for poor funding and misguided policy.

In reality a heap of research shows that 50 percent of the variance in achievement among students is simply due to individual ability. If you are a bright kid you are much more likely to succeed regardless of all other factors.

The remaining 50 percent - the achievement factors over which parents, school and society might have some influence – are interesting.

Teachers who blame poor home life for poor achievement should think again. The home accounts for only 6 percent of variance in student achievement.

Parents who think sending their child to a ‘good school’ makes a big difference should think again. The school accounts for only 8 percent of variance in achievement.

The influence of a child’s peers accounts for a further 6 percent, as does the work of school principals. The remaining 25 percent is down to the teacher. A good teacher, it seems, is second only to a child’s natural ability in determining whether that child succeeds or fails in education.

These are generalised numbers and for some children the numbers must vary. Ollie’s chances of success in education are hugely influenced by his home life. It will be difficult for teachers to exert a positive influence on Ollie’s achievement if he continues to bounce from school to school.

Likewise, individual success relies on attitude as well as intellect. Apryll Parata told us that Maori students expect to fail at school, their families expect them to fail and pakeha expect them to fail.

Ollie confirmed that. A few days before the end of term I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up.
“I want to ride horses – race them. I prob’ly won’t though.”
“Why not?”
“Cos I’m dumb.”
“Why do you think you’re dumb, Ollie?”
Ollie looked at me.
“Cos Maori kids are dumb, Mr V.”