Last week, Education Minister Erica Stanford talked to the Otago Daily Times about the changes she’s making to New Zealand’s education system.
She stated her intent was to build ‘‘a solid foundation for New Zealand’s future’’. She spoke confidently about following ‘‘the science of learning’’ and gave assurances to principals and teachers they would have ‘‘all of the resources [and] the professional learning and development’’ needed for success.
The minister’s narrative is compelling. Her promises sound good.
But far too often her words don’t reflect the reality of her reforms.
On one hand, the minister is saying to schools, ‘‘go at your own pace’’ and to ‘‘do what works best for you and your school’’.
On the other, she’s saying that everything must happen ‘‘at the same time, and all right from the start’’.
One fell swoop to the foundational legislation of our education system. Do it once. Do it right.
But what about the education profession’s reality?
Every individual policy change generates hours of work at the school level: revised planning documents, updated templates and protocols, anxious emails to the ministry, questions and concerns from parents.
By the end of 2026, teachers and principals are expected to have fully adopted a new and unfamiliar English and mathematics curriculum for years 1-10; radically adjust the way their classrooms and classes are structured; learn and master a rigid assessment and reporting framework; and start twice-yearly assessments using a new platform. This isn’t even half of it.
We must accept the government taking control of the teaching profession through the Education and Training (System Reform) Amendment Bill. This strips school boards’ rights to honour Te Tiriti o Waitangi, gives ministers even more control over curriculum content and increases their professional overreach through a Teaching Council restructure, among other significant changes.
It’s far more than just new reports for parents and a teaching schedule akin to times of the past — it goes deep.
I am not saying none of this change is needed. As a principal and a parent, I am immensely aware of this. As someone who cares deeply for the future of our tamariki, I am excited by the possibilities.
And as president of the New Zealand Principals’ Federation, representing all principals and tumuaki across Aotearoa, I am here to help.
Take the year 0 to 10 draft curriculum content. The minister claims she is listening to feedback from teachers and education leaders and is getting further advice on the curriculum.
In reality, concerned teachers, school leaders and subject specialists — including the NZPF — have been limited to a constricted consultation process, and our concerns have fallen on deaf ears. This is what happens when the very professionals entrusted to implement reform are excluded from being involved in the change process.
Organisations like the NZPF, other experienced education sector leaders and representatives for tangata whenua have been systematically and strategically shut out, while the minister affirms her political agenda through cherrypicked advisers and data.
At a recent Waitangi Tribunal hearing, the minister’s leadership staff admitted they didn’t collaborate with the education sector when writing the new English and mathematics curriculum because it ‘‘added complexity’’ and hindered the ‘‘pace’’ of the minister’s reforms.
I understand the minister’s desire to get things done quickly. A revitalised national curriculum has been promised by various governments since 2017. That’s almost a decade being on the brink of a better and up-to-date protocol.
So what is there for schools to complain about — the fact that something is actually being done?
This new curriculum, touted by the minister for being ‘‘knowledge-rich’’ and ‘‘following the science of learning’’, is not the resource one would expect after almost 10 years of political pageantry. It is a far cry from what many schools and teachers were expecting and were, indeed, prepared to put in place.
A refreshed draft curriculum released in 2023 was generally supported by schools. Why? Because it was co-designed with teachers, iwi and communities. It centred student identity and wellbeing and embraced Te Tiriti o Waitangi.
It was developed by the experts who would be teaching it, for a specifically New Zealand context. It wasn’t created in a closed-door political vacuum.
As things go, the current government rejected the 2023 draft curriculum because, in the most simple terms, it wasn’t theirs.
Only in October last year, principals and teachers saw the final version of the curriculum for 2026. It was no longer a refresh, it was a complete rethink of the way learning should happen.
It’s telling that the writers of the new curriculum were silenced by non-disclosure agreements. Even now, the ministry won’t name contributors ‘‘to protect their identity’’ from potential abuse.
This, to me, is an indirect acknowledgement that the new curriculum won’t meet the profession’s expectations. It’s an admission that, in its current form, it won’t actually serve the needs of our tamariki, and won’t equip them with skills for tomorrow, such as problem solving, communicating, thinking critically and collaboration.
When this curriculum is considered among the raft of other changes within the minister’s reforms, her vision becomes pretty clear.
Classrooms should be the same and schools should be compliant. Achievement and attendance must override adaptability and autonomy. This is a return to rote learning, to teaching to the test, and it ignores the fact that the capabilities and skills that are needed to navigate the world of tomorrow are not the same as they were yesterday or are today.
What’s more, it fundamentally neglects the fact that every child is an individual, every class has different needs and every school operates in a different context.
Ask any school leader or teacher, they will certainly agree that aspects of New Zealand’s education system need to be reviewed and improved.
But they will also tell you that it’s not just the education system they have to wrestle with.
As an experienced primary school teacher and principal, I take it to heart when the minister justifies her reforms by saying that ‘‘secondary schools were crying out for help’’.
Yes, there are students who arrive at high school without basic maths and English skills. However, it’s not always at the fault of the school or the system.
I haven’t seen any real progress made by this administration to collaborate across social agencies to address the fact that one in seven New Zealand children live in material hardship.
The minister doesn’t acknowledge the very real impact poverty has on our students, including the increase in varied learning and behaviour needs, and the fact that education, alone, will not fix everything.
No amount of phonics checks or rubric assessments will address hungry children, inadequate housing, families without healthcare, anxiety and trauma, or communities without resources.
Our politicians cling to education like a hot potato, viewing it as fodder for votes and something that requires a sharp and distinct political slant. Yet they always have the same goal, to do what’s best for New Zealand and our children.
I know Minister Stanford cares deeply about New Zealand’s tamariki.
But while her heart is in the right place, her priorities and policies aren’t.
I share the perspective of many of New Zealand’s principals. We agree that there are issues with our current education system. We want better for the young people of Aotearoa.
And we’re sick and tired of education being treated as a political football.
I’ve met with many political party education spokespeople over recent weeks and they have all told me the same thing: New Zealand needs a long-term vision for education that truly serves the interests of all schools and young people, and the professionals and experts at the coalface of education need to be involved in any reform.
If they can agree with me, surely they can find agreement between each other too.
Surely, they can work with us to keep that shared goal in mind — what is best for New Zealand and our children — and take the politics out of education.
• Jason Miles is national president of the New Zealand Principals’ Federation.
