Bi-Lingual Tamariki

In the last TE KARAKA, we highlighted the mahi at the bi-lingual units at Hapuku School in Mangamaunu near Kaikōura, Aorangi School in Christchurch, and Tuahiwi School. In the issue, two families whose children are in bi-lingual education open their homes to us to show how they are supporting their tamariki with te reo. Kaituhituhi Adrienne Rewi caught up with the Tuuta/Roberts and Hakaria whānau in their Christchurch homes.

Above: Kelli Tuuta (Ngāti Mutunga/Taranaki) and Rocky Roberts (Kāi Tahu) with Monahan Tuuta-Roberts at their Christchurch home.

Māori dictionaries and work books are piled high at one end of the dining table. They're well worn and one has a broken spine from overuse.

Monahan (Monnie) Tuuta-Roberts is in the kitchen, deciding what he wants for an after-school snack. He and his mother are chatting in te reo.

There's nothing unusual in that. Rocky Roberts (Kāi Tahu), 42, and Kelli Tuuta (Ngāti Mutunga/Taranaki), 36, are learning te reo with seven-year-old Monnie, and they try to speak Māori at every opportunity. They started at Te Wānanga o Aotearoa three years ago. Monnie is a pupil at Te Tikanga Rua Reo, the bilingual unit at St Albans Primary School.

"We're all learning together, and we try to speak te reo in the home as much as we can," says Kelli.

"We see it as a commitment to our future – an investment in our son's future. It's about who we are."

"Most of my school friends speak Māori, but those who don't try their best," says Monnie philosophically. "I think English is easier, but I like learning te reo."

Te reo Māori and being on the marae were very much a part of Kelli's Taranaki childhood. Although she was surrounded by Māori speakers, she admits she "just wasn't into it", that all she wanted to do was "go overseas".

She and Rocky met in London, a long way from Rocky's Westport roots.

Above: Grant (Ngāti Kurī, Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Te Aupouri) and Gaynor Hakaria (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Porou) with Gaynor's mother, Emma McLean (Ngāti Porou),and their four sons, left to right: Coastt , Theles, Suayd and Qeyloux.

"When we met the only Māori I knew was kia ora," says Rocky. "I was brought up in the Pākehā world. I never knew a marae, kapa haka or te reo.

That all changed when I met Kelli. And when we decided to start a family, I was determined our children would be comfortable in both the Māori and Pākehā worlds. I didn't want Monnie to feel the embarrassment, the shame and the lack of confidence I had always felt around things Māori.

"It was a strange world to me and I never understood tikanga. I didn't want that to happen to him."

When the Tuuta-Roberts family moved south so Rocky could study at the Christchurch Polytechnic's New Zealand Broadcasting School (he now works at MoreFM), they enrolled Monnie at Te Waka Huruhurumanu, the bilingual Early Learning Centre at CPIT. He was just 11 months old.

"I had to return to work as a nurse and it worked out perfectly. He thrived in that environment for four years," says Kelli.

"My father's death 12 years agi had changed my attitude to life and I had already started re-learning te reo myself. Having Monnie at Te Waka Huruhurumanu was perfect. He picked up a lot of the basics there, especially the tikanga. He learned the protocols, the karakia, the waiata, and it became second nature to him very early on.

"For some things he only knew the Māori word; he didn't know there was an English equivalent. That made Rocky and I realise we had to have a good grasp of te reo so we could support him fully. That's when we enrolled at Te Wānanga."

The family bought their current home so they could be closer to St Albans School when Monnie turned five. That, they say, has been just one of the dramatic changes in their lives since they began their te reo journey.

They've also joined a puna reo group of eight whānau, who meet each fortnight in each others' homes to speak and support each other.

"That's been great for us because we don't have whānau down here, and we're both still a little shy about speaking to Monnie publicly in case we get it wrong. The puna reo environment is a safe environment to immerse yourself in te reo," says Kelli, "and that's what you need when you're learning, regardless of your age."

Rocky still has to make a conscious effort to think and speak te reo, especially during rushed times of the day.

"We used to label everything in the house with Māori words, and that was a big help in the beginning. I found that the waiata and stories – even Monnie's kapa haka group – helped me a lot.

"Now I can't imagine life without te reo and I think it's made me a much better parent. I've been able to discover my Māori side through the language, and I'm no longer intimidated or afraid of visiting a marae anymore.

"I've learned a huge amount about the tikanga and about myself. It's given me a confidence I never had; and a pride in knowing that our son will never have to go through that long and sometimes difficult journey. I feel great that he already knows his whakapapa. He knows who he is and where he came from, and by being fluent in te reo, he will have so many more opportunities and choices as an adult."

For Kelli, the te reo journey is part of her ongoing re-discovery of her Māori roots.

"Both my brothers speak te reo, and when we go back to Taranaki we make sure the whole whānau speaks Māori. That's the best way for kids to learn. Rocky's mum, who is Pākehā, has even started learning te reo.

It's been a very positive thing for the whole whānau.


Vocabulary cards are attached to the Hakaria fridge and rotated regularly.

"For me personally, it's made me question my life and as a result, I've wanted to ask the hard questions about my own family history. I'm much more aware of my own Taha Wairua – my spiritual side. I feel that connection to the earth again and I have a better understanding of tikanga, the way we do things and why that's still important today.

"Best of all, knowing Monnie will be able to walk tall in both Te Ao Māori and the Pākehā world – who wouldn't want that for their kids?"

Across town is a buzz of activity in the Hakaria household. Bilingual teachers, Grant (Ngāti Kurī, Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Te Aupouri) and Gaynor (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Porou) are winding down at the end of a long day.

Their four sons – Suayd, 11, Qeyloux, 8, Theles, 5 and Coastt, 6 months – are going about their after-school activities. Gaynor's mother, Emma McLean (Ngāti Porou) is beginning dinner preparations.

All this accompanied by a happy hum of te reo. It's second nature in the Hakaria household. The children even initiate conversations in Māori rather than English.

"As parents, it's all about modelling," says Grant. He acknowledges that his role as a bilingual teacher at Te Tahu Rua Reo, Shirley Intermediate, and Gaynor's, as a bilingual teacher at Tuahiwi School's Whitireia Bilingual Unit, have made a significant difference to the family's bilingual competency, but he says there is no escaping the fact that the key to success is speaking te reo as often as possible.

"As teachers, we have the advantage of knowing what needs to be done, and right from the outset, we committed to incorporating te reo into every avenue of our lives," says Grant.

"If we initiate conversations in Māori, we expect the kids to reply in Māori; and we interact with a lot of other families who also speak te reo.

Gaynor and I are also senior kapa haka members, and the three older boys are all members of the Ngā Pi a Tane junior kapa haka group. They learn a lot through waiata and through broader avenues like Māori Television. That outside influence is vital to their progress."

Vocabulary cards are attached to the fridge and rotated regularly. Māori books are everywhere. Often when Gaynor travels with the children to Tuahiwi School, it's a "Māori only" time.

"All of that supports what they learn at school," she says, "and if one boy shows an interest in a particular subject, activity or sport, we make sure we find the words to tailor-make his language needs around that."

Ask the Hakaria boys whether they prefer to speak English or Māori and there's a group cry, "Māori!"

"When I play marbles with my friends we always count and talk in Māori," says Qeyloux. "And it's cool because sometimes no-one else knows what we're talking about," he says with a grin.

Five-year-old Theles will tell you he finds Māori the easiest, and he's proud of the fact that he now knows to call his grandmother Tāua.

"We always speak te reo to our Tāua, and now that she's learning te reo, that really helps us learn too," says Qeyloux.

"And we love watching Māori television, too," says Theles. "And we like reading Māori books in our spare time."

Suayd, their older brother, seems more aware of his "in-house" advantages.

"I think the biggest help for me is that Mum and Dad are both teachers," he says. "That really helps us when we're speaking te reo at home. We can learn quicker."

Grant and Gaynor say it's been "a big journey" but one they have never regretted starting. Like the Tuuta family, they were determined to create an environment that enabled their sons' easy access to the language in ways they never had themselves.

But it has become more than that. Now it is a passion not only for te reo itself, but for raising the profile of Māori language and revitalising te reo in the home.

You don't teach Māori as a language. It's about tikanga as well. It's about teaching a whole way of life and committing to that beyond the classroom does take a lot of work. But it's been worth it for us. We love it, and when you see your children becoming more and more confident – not just in te reo but in all walks of their lives – you realise what a gift te reo is to them.

G aynor Hakaria (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Porou)

"The further we go, the more fluent we become, the more our passion and drive are fuelled," says Grant.

"There's a much greater pride in being able to speak Māori now (compared to when I was young), and Gaynor and I can both see that speaking Māori as part of our everyday whānau life is a very positive role model for our boys – especially when there are so many bad examples in today's society.

"It's a living language again now and you can earn a living from it – as we are in fact; and for us personally, we never stop learning."

Māori language doesn't stop at 3pm when school is out. The Hakaria boys make the seamless transition to home in te reo.

"As a bilingual Māori teacher," says Gaynor, "I've seen a huge difference in the competency levels of kids who continue to speak Māori at home.

There's clear evidence that they progress much faster; and with that comes a greater desire to learn.

"You don't teach Māori as a language. It's about tikanga as well. It's about teaching a whole way of life and committing to that beyond the classroom does take a lot of work. But it's been worth it for us. We love it, and when you see your children becoming more and more confident – not just in te reo but in all walks of their lives – you realise what a gift te reo is to them."

Ripple-on effects are evident throughout the wider Hakaria family, too. Gaynor's mother, Emma, has been studying Māori at Te Wānanga o Aotearoa for the last three years. Grant's parents are learning, too.

"And we often film the boys and send videos to their uncles up north, so they are always celebrated by the wider whānau and reminded that it's a good thing to know Māori," says Grant.

Now, 12 years into their te reo journey, Grant and Gaynor have a degree of fluency, and are confident and inspired. But they're not resting on their laurels. They have plans.

"We are currently thinking about secondary options that will cater for our children's future learning. At the moment there are two choices for our boys – mainstream or total immersion; and we have growing numbers of children in Christchurch coming through bilingual units who are about to face the same problem, about where to send their tamariki.

"As we've travelled along this path, we've made slow but steady progress and our networks have become wider and wider, so we know a lot of parents have concerns about te reo within the education system as it stands. That's why there is a strong need here in Waitaha for tamariki studying bilingual education – for new entrants right through secondary level – where te reo speakers can thrive and continue to grow."

"We want a secondary experience where kids have the opportunity for things beyond language, and where they can do that in Māori. It's a lot to think about, but it's exciting, too. We want our boys to grow up knowing it's totally cool to speak Māori."

For Grant and Gaynor, who grew up at a time when "there were negative connotations to speaking Māori", it's all about identity.

They're proud that their sons can comfortably go onto any marae and know their tikanga.

"Learning te reo has definitely made all the boys more confident, and they've shown they want to learn," says Gaynor. "I think they have a much richer knowledge base because of their language skills.

"If we were to take away the language, we'd be taking away so much more. Their lives would be much narrower."