Garth George: The Maori education revolution is here

The ill-considered outburst by Maori Party co-leader and Associate Education Minister Pita Sharples that Maori should be admitted to universities without qualifications was quickly modified and soon forgotten.

It was surprising coming from Dr Sharples, whose CV in education is comprehensive, for he of all people should know that those who can't make it in the easy-peasy NCEA regime of most of today's high schools have no chance at university.

All it did was emphasise how seriously our state education system is failing Maori and how few Maori students make it into the rarefied atmosphere of our highest academic institutions.

Yet there is a quiet revolution occurring in education throughout the nation and it is taking place in Maori-led institutions, the largest of which is Te Wananga o Aotearoa.

The wananga is this year providing education to more than 39,000 students and has done so for the past three years. Thousands of last year's intake graduated with degrees, diplomas and certificates in May, yours truly among them.

Yet little is heard of this marvellous educational facility. That may well be the fault of a wary wananga administration, which is still recovering from the adverse publicity it received three years ago.

Which rather ignores the fact that the institution has recovered fully from the effects of those scandals and, under the guidance of Bentham Ohia, who was appointed acting chief executive officer in the wake of the troubles, is flourishing.

The financial mismanagement which led to the scandals of 2006 is well behind it. Last year, its organisational structure transformed, it posted a $5.4 million surplus.

I'm not surprised. Mr Ohia stands not much more than 150cm tall, is built like a brick outhouse, has a wide open face and a ready smile. He exudes excited enthusiasm for his task and is a man you instinctively trust.

His background is fascinating. He started with the wananga at 23 years of age, as a painter - part-time work while he completed his teaching diploma. The former CEO, Rongo Wetere, then asked him to be his driver and from there he progressed to campus manager, to other managerial positions and, ultimately, to acting chief executive.

At 38, Mr Ohia (BA, Dip Teach, MBA) is the youngest CEO or vice-chancellor in the tertiary education sector, having been unanimously reappointed by the wananga board at the end of 2007 for a five-year term.

He has gathered about him a group of similarly enthusiastic executives, all of whom seem to share his relaxed and cheerful attitude to the job they are doing.

The results are worth noting. Last year almost half the students enrolled were Maori, 70 per cent were female and the median age was 40.

The wananga's retention rate is among the highest in the country at 80 per cent; 78 per cent of students complete their courses; and 61 per cent graduate.

As Mr Ohia puts it: "We are proud of the diversity and appeal of our programmes, our focus on low or no fees and our inclusive kaupapa [philosophy].

"Te Wananga o Aotearoa is a Maori organisation for all New Zealanders ... an institution run by the people for the people, and that inclusive philosophy is focused on removing barriers to education for all New Zealanders."

It's working: more than 36 per cent of graduates move on to further education after completing their Te Wananga o Aotearoa courses, and most of those are folk who, for various reasons, crashed out of the education system as teenagers. Many more find themselves equipped to get jobs, and do.

My own experience with the wananga has been an eye-opener. I joined a class to learn te reo Maori at the beginning of last year and have just completed my fourth semester.

It will, sadly, be my last, for I have discovered that it is indeed hard to teach an old dog new tricks. My aged self seems unable to absorb the vocabulary necessary to become fluent.

It has not, however, been a waste. I have learned sufficient to enunciate greetings and courtesies, have learned a great deal about Maori culture and thinking and have been a fascinated guest on several marae.

But most of all I have appreciated what that cheerful enthusiasm and commitment, which obviously flows down from the top to the kaumatua (elders) and kaiako (tutors) who take the classes, can do for students, many of whom flunked out of school as youngsters.

I will miss the warm, relaxed yet serious learning atmosphere, the prayers and hymns that start and conclude every class, and the folk whom I would probably never have encountered who became my schoolmates.

Solutions to the educational problems afflicting Maori young people, males in particular, seem difficult to find. Yet it is encouraging that much is already being done to redress the balance.