On the morning of Te Ukiihikitia’s pōwhiri for his first day at Te Kura Kaupapa Māori o Te Whānau Tahi, I received a message from my “Westie” Pākehā mum.
"How is Te Uki this morning? It's so exciting that he is going to a kura kaupapa. I remember the movement as a child back when it was all happening in West Auckland. Now Te Uki gets to be a part of it." Her words made me smile and filled me with pride.
Our whānau is committed to revitalising te reo Māori, and we do our best to speak the language with our kids as much as possible. Sometimes we are short a few words and “te mea, te mea” gets inserted here and there. There is a bit of kōhuru going on, but we are getting better every day.
Our decision to raise our kids with te reo has prompted a lot of positive interactions with the non-reo speaking community. We often find the compliments amusing because we are usually just navigating the regular challenges of parenthood, asking our kids to leave the random food on the ground, to play nicely, be careful, or not to take a mimi right there.
I guess it all just sounds a bit nicer in te reo, and even though people don't always know what we are saying, they do recognise what we are doing – we are teaching the kids our language, and we are part of a movement that is here to stay.
Having the choice to send our kids to a kura where everyone is dedicated to the reo movement is a true privilege. It is a testament to the many who have paved the way before us. Personally, it recognises the many whānau who have inspired us to lean into the wero, learn as adults, and go on this journey. More broadly, it honours the generations who held onto their reo, those who tirelessly petitioned for its recognition, and the visionaries who established kōhanga reo and kura kaupapa.
The commitment and vision of pioneers like Ereti ‘Letty’ Brown of Ngāti Porou and Te Whānau ā Apanui have been instrumental in this journey. Letty's work began in the 1950s, creating separate playcentre sessions for Māori kids in West Auckland, fostering a sense of community around our reo. In the 1960s, she helped to establish Hoani Waititi marae and was a founding member of the kapa haka Manutaki. Letty's dedication continued through the decades and contributed to the development of kōhanga reo in the 1980s. This activity around te reo is what my mum recalls seeing in West Auckland as a child. Now, in a beautiful full-circle moment, she sees her own moko being sent to one of the kura that has grown out of the movement – a first for her.
Kura kaupapa are rooted in mātauranga Māori and guided by Te Aho Matua. Where mainstream schools focus on child-centered education, Te Aho Matua emphasises the development of the entire whānau. This philosophical framework shapes the teaching, learning, and growth of tamariki and their whānau in kura kaupapa.
By sending our son to Te Whānau Tahi, we are not just making an educational choice; we’re committing to our reo now and for the future, so our kids can grow up with it, rather than having to learn it later in life like we did. As a whānau, we acknowledge that we didn’t reach this point alone, and we’re grateful for the support of our whānau, cousins, friends, and reo teachers who helped us prepare for this step.
Our workplaces have also been incredibly supportive, allowing us to balance our commitments and stay dedicated to our reo. The presence of NAIA at the pōwhiri was a heartening reminder of the community that stands with us on this journey. For us, it reinforced the strong sense of whānau we have at NAIA, a concept often talked about, but truly experienced in moments like these. NAIA were there not only to support my wife and me as parents, but also to embrace Te Ukiihikitia as their moko as he joined five other NAIA kids at the kura.
Nā Kahu Te Whaiti
