JUDY GILL: TE REO– A PARENT'S JOURNEY

Forty years on from Te Reo being granted official language status in 1987, and its gradual introduction into mainstream schools through the 1980s and 1990s, there is still no curriculum, no syllabus, no grammar, no syntax. No textbooks. No real workbooks.

Ritual Instead of Language

Recently, I joined a Te Reo adult learning class. It began with a karakia, moved through the alphabet and greetings, and ended with another karakia.

Two hours, two karakia, and I was gone. That was enough for me to realise this was not about learning a language in the usual sense—it was ritual.

The same applies in schools. For younger children, the main focus is waiata and karakia. Both are taught by rote, drilled with perfect pronunciation, treated as sacred performance. Beyond that, the alphabet, colours, and numbers are introduced as token gestures.

Three Voices on Te Reo

“There is no actual curriculum book for ‘Te Ao Māori’—it is not a subject with defined, written content. Instead, spiritual practices and worldviews are inserted into daily school life without clear boundaries. After more than three decades in classrooms—much of that relieving in dozens of different schools—I have seen the change with my own eyes. English songs and stories have disappeared, while waiata and karakia are drilled with ceremony and reverence. What is presented as culture is, in practice, spirituality. Children cannot consent, and parents are never asked.”

— Maria Van den Berg, Primary School Teacher, 4 September 2025

“At Te Huruhi School, mainstream classes do not teach, invoke, or practice spiritual or religious concepts. Te reo Māori is taught for approximately three hours per week and may include kapa haka, pōwhiri practice, and instruction in Māori language and culture. These lessons are part of our standard cultural curriculum and are not religious in nature.”

— Emily Petronelli, Principal, Te Huruhi Primary, 23 July 2025

(Issued after seven months and 18 separate forms of correspondence, with Ministry assistance.)

“The teaching of te ao Māori, the inclusion of practices such as karakia and pōwhiri, and discussions of concepts such as wairua, mana, and tapu offer students an opportunity to engage with a Māori worldview. This does not amount to religious instruction… it is consistent with the section 97 requirement under the Education and Training Act that teaching be of a secular character.”

— Clinton Rowe, Manager Integrated Services, Ministry of Education, 22 July 2025

The Sacred Word

It reminds me of a famous quote:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

Te Reo is treated in the same way—not as a language, but as The Word.

It is sung, chanted, and memorised without interpretation.

In schools, it functions like the sacred Latin of the Catholic Mass: ritual words carried by sound and repetition, not meaning.

Sacred Words & High Cost

Historically, Te Reo had about 8,000 words by the late 1700s. Today, there are over 24,000 words, many newly manufactured by government agencies.

Two departments drive this work:

Te Taura Whiri i te Reo Māori (Māori Language Commission) — about $13.36 million per annum.

Te Puni Kōkiri (Ministry of Māori Development) — about $524.7 million per annum.

Do the maths:

Roughly $540 per word per year at Commission level.

A staggering $21,800 per word per year at Ministry level.

At that price, no one could afford to pay for them. $21,800 per word? No thank you.

And yet when I searched the school, the local library, Paper Plus, and the op shops, I found no curriculum book, no teacher’s guide, no parent’s guide.

Just piles of discarded Te Reo readers—the same ones handed out to pupils of the Ngā Pūrāpūrā Bilingual Unit during COVID lockdowns, now dumped in opportunity shops because nobody wanted to keep them.

I have yet to meet a single child who can actually read these readers.

Maybe there’s someone out there who has—one of those who slides straight into the public service, the mainstream media, or the ranks of Te Pāti Māori.

But for the rest, these readers are useless: ungraded, unread, and unwanted.

Oh dear—no curriculum, no teacher’s guide, no parent’s guide.

But always the same answer: we need more money, money, money.

Apparently, $21,800 per word is not enough to fund a real education.

It’s so special.

It’s so privileged.

It’s so sacred.

It’s so expensive.

A Parent’s Journey

In my search, I gathered everything I could.

At last, I found one workbook: Tuia Mātauranga Pukapuka Mahi Tēina, belonging to a girl from Ponsonby—likely a holiday-home family on Waiheke.

She had completed only her pepeha:

Ko Waitematā is my moana

Ko Ngāti Pākehā is my iwi

Ko Rangitoto is my maunga

Ko Flying Carpet is my waka

And a dot-to-dot exercise. The rest of the book was blank.

She had written her answers in English.

It struck me: this is what I see even at intermediate level. Walls covered with pepeha, and little else.

I had hoped my son would learn a genuine second language—a generational shift from French, Spanish, and German to our own official language.

But the reality is rituals, waiata, karakia, and discarded readers.

What’s Missing from a Real Subject

In any genuine school subject, you expect:

A curriculum guide

A syllabus

A teacher’s manual

A scheme of work

Graded student workbooks

Assessment frameworks

None of these exist for Te Reo in primary schools.

What Am I Left With?

On Waiheke Island, there is not a single secular school. Not one. Every school is captured by Te Ao ideology.

So what do I do? Home school?

I have the discarded readers and a workbook barely touched.

But the basics—a curriculum, a teacher’s manual, a parent’s guide—do not exist.

So yes, I could send my son to school—but he would not be learning Te Reo as a language.

He would be learning Te Ao.

I do not consent.

If only this were satire. I wish it was.

Judy Gill is a parent, former teacher, and a staunch advocate for secular education. She has a BA and a Diploma in Teaching.