The Present We Didn't Ask For

Non-contact time allows my mind to wander—to seek new understandings, refine current ones, and, most importantly, reflect.

Lately, my mind keeps circling back to one thing: the state of our education system here in Aotearoa.

Have you ever had a birthday or Christmas where you receive a pile of presents, but not one resembles what you actually asked for? Of course, you're grateful. The people giving the gifts have clearly put thought into them. But you're still left wondering whether they actually know you—whether they understand what you need or whether maybe, they were actually buying something they themselves wanted.  Or perhaps it's that present, you didn't know you needed, but others obviously wanted to give you a great big hint, like that cake of fancy soup, or that gym membership.

That's what education feels like right now: the present we didn't ask for.

And I use the word present deliberately. It refers both to the endless stream of presents that Minister Stanford so proudly unveils, declaring how wonderful they are and how much we all love them (the Emperor's New Clothes springs to mind), and to the present itself—the reality of where we find ourselves right here, right now.

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The Birthday Party That Never Ends

The last two years have felt like one long birthday party gone spectacularly wrong.

Presents have been promised, beautifully wrapped and enthusiastically presented, only to be unwrapped and reveal something so disappointing that it should have been returned immediately. Unfortunately, they all seem to have come with a strict no-returns policy.

Change after change has arrived, tied up with a bow and delivered with great fanfare. Many of us have reached the point where we're simply declining the invitations altogether. Yet the gift-giver keeps insisting they're exactly what we wanted, refusing to read the room—perhaps because of a steadfast belief that they know us better than we know ourselves, not dissimilar to mad Uncle Bob, who only makes appearances at family gatherings, but knows everything about everything.

The result is a collection of gifts that has left us with a present that feels increasingly bleak.

"The education system has become a perpetual birthday party where the gifts keep getting bigger, the wrapping gets fancier, and nobody remembers to buy what's actually on the list."

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A Pile of Unwanted Gifts

We've been gifted a curriculum we didn't ask for. Not just one version, but several iterations of a document that often feels like it was assembled in a hurry on Christmas Eve.

We've been gifted assessments, some of them so flawed they should have been marched straight back to the customer service desk for a refund.

We've been gifted "learning support" that, rather ironically, doesn't seem to support many of the learners who actually need it.

We've been gifted a maths support approach that can only be delivered to students who are slightly behind expectations, ignoring those who are furthest from them and most in need of help.

We've been gifted a reporting system that arrived with all the excitement of a major upgrade, despite nobody being able to clearly explain what was wrong with the old one.

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Meanwhile, Here's the Wish List

And all the while, we keep asking for the same things.

Not shiny new initiatives.

Not another workbook.

Not another framework, template, matrix, rubric, progress tool, reporting tool, implementation guide, support document, companion document, companion-to-the-companion document, or colour-coded flowchart.

We keep asking for actual learning and behaviour support.

Teacher aides in every classroom.  Many of the systems around the world that our supposed world leading approach is based on actually have learning assistants in each room to make delivery of such approaches possible.

Trusted adults in every school—and enough of them—to help dysregulated children regulate and all children feel safe and seen at school.

Staffing that allows us to provide meaningful support to the students who need it.

Specialist services for our most vulnerable learners.

A system where every child can flourish as themselves because they have access to genuine support, not just a glossy resource accompanied by a press release.

We don't need lessons on how to suck eggs.

We need the resourcing and staffing required to do what we already know how to do.

"Teachers aren't asking for more programmes, frameworks, or workbooks. We're asking for people. Real people. In real schools. Supporting real children."

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Gift-Wrapped Solutions to Problems Nobody Has

Instead, the gifts keep arriving.  Every one opened feels like one of those annoying musical cards that get on your last nerve.  Opening it because you must, but wanting to rip out the musical chip as soon as you do.

The gift-giver remains convinced each one is transformative and a vital must have item.

Meanwhile, the present we are actually living in has become so under-resourced that schools increasingly rely on fundraising, gift cards, donations, goodwill, and the remarkable ability of educators to hold everything together with little more than determination and laminating pouches.

At some point, you have to wonder whether anyone is listening to the wish list.

Because if they were, we'd stop receiving presents we never asked for and start getting the support our students actually need.

"The tragedy isn't that schools keep receiving the wrong gifts; it's that while we're busy unwrapping them, the things our children actually need remain on the shelf."