Derek is regarded as one of NZ education’s foremost Future Focused thinkers, and is regularly asked to consult with schools, policy makers and government agencies regarding the future directions of NZ educational policy and practice.
Derek’s Blog, launched in 2003, serves as a platform for sharing thoughts and reflections related to his work. It offers over 20 years of searchable posts, categorized by the tags below. Feel free to comment, as your feedback contributes to ongoing reflection and future posts.
What if the most important skill we’re not teaching is how to think?
Last week I had the privilege of sitting down with Dr Rosemary Hipkins – emeritus researcher at NZCER, former science teacher, teacher educator, and one of the sharpest minds I know when it comes to thinking about education and the world it must prepare young people for. Rose has just published Lifelong Learning for a Post-Truth World, and our conversation left me with the kind of unsettled feeling that only comes when someone names something you’ve been circling around for years but haven’t quite landed on. So in this post I thought I’d share a few of those moments – not to summarise the episode, but to give you a taste of why I think this is one of the most important conversations we can be having in education right now.
We are hardwired for binary thinking – and we’re doing almost nothing about it
One of the things Rose said that resonated strongly with me (as I’ve written about previously) was her perspective on how we use binary thinking. Rose confessed she didn’t encounter a serious challenge to her binary thinking until she was in her late 40s, doing postgraduate study. Her late 40s. And she described sitting in the garden for a few hours afterwards because the realisation that the world wasn’t simply made of opposites – right/wrong, knowledge/skills, good/bad – was, in her words, a personal paradigm shift.
That’s a confronting statement for anyone who works in education. We are living in a moment when binary thinking is being weaponised – politically, socially, algorithmically. And yet, as Rose put it, we’re not teaching students young enough to even recognise it, let alone interrogate it.
I’ve been guilty of it myself. My early enthusiasm for digital technology in education was, if I’m honest, a kind of binary optimism – all upside, transformative potential, the democratisation of learning. What I’ve had to reluctantly accept over the years is that when you add human psychology into the mix, it’s never that clean. The same platforms designed to connect and inform are, by design, built to pull us into echo chambers, to confirm what we already believe, to simplify what is genuinely complex.
Post-truth isn’t just about fake news – it’s about the conditions we’re failing to create
Rose draws a useful distinction in her book between disinformation (deliberately created falsehood for the creator’s benefit), misinformation (well-intentioned spread of things that aren’t true), and mal-information (deliberate harm aimed at an individual). These aren’t new phenomena, but they’ve been turbocharged by the internet’s removal of the checks and balances that once came with formal publishing.
The question she raises – and it’s not a rhetorical one – is whether we’re equipping young people with the tools to navigate this. Not to be cynical about everything they read, but to develop the kind of epistemic trust literacy that lets them ask: who should I trust on this, and why?
That’s not a simple skill. It’s a disposition that has to be cultivated over time, woven into how we teach, not bolted on as a digital citizenship unit at Year 9.
The knowledge vs. skills binary is one we need to stop having
One of the most practically useful threads in our conversation was about the curriculum debate that’s playing out in Aotearoa right now. The framing – that we’ve tilted too far toward inquiry and competencies at the expense of knowledge – isn’t wrong in its diagnosis of what’s happened in many classrooms. But the cure being offered, a pendulum swing back toward precisely defined content, risks making the same mistake in reverse.
Rose put it plainly: it’s perfectly possible to design an engaging curriculum that weaves important content knowledge and selected competencies into a rich tapestry. That’s not a new idea – NZCER has been doing that work for years. But it hasn’t become the norm, and part of the reason is that the binary framing keeps reasserting itself. Knowledge or skills. Facts or thinking. As if developing one necessarily crowds out the other.
If you’re in a position to influence curriculum design, school leadership, or professional learning, this is worth sitting with.
We keep pushing the impossible back onto the individual teacher
Perhaps the thread that ran most consistently through our conversation was this: we ask teachers to do things that the system doesn’t equip or support them to do, and then we’re surprised when it doesn’t happen.
Rose spoke about professional learning becoming increasingly generic – one-size-fits-all delivery, often without ongoing support, at precisely the moment when teachers need something far more specific and sustained. She described a group of teachers who’d had a half-day workshop on Universal Design for Learning and were then expected to embed its principles into assessment design. Of course their attempts were superficial – not because of any failing on their part, but because half a day is nowhere near enough.
And there’s something fractal about this problem. The same dynamic that we describe in classrooms – where a student can’t exercise genuine agency because the system doesn’t create the conditions for it – applies to teachers too. We can’t ask for agentically empowered learners from teachers who are themselves disempowered.
What would Rose’s hopeful future look like?
I asked Rose, as I try to do with everyone on this podcast, where she finds hope. Her answer was characteristically honest – she hadn’t deeply pondered the specifics. But what she did offer felt right: a system that removes unhelpful binaries (and she named the academic/vocational divide as one of the most stubbornly persistent), that treats professional learning for teachers as genuinely important rather than something to be paid lip service, and that recognises learning as a truly lifelong endeavour – not as a slogan, but as a structural commitment.
“Anything we say we need for our young people,” she said, “we need for all of us.”
That’s the kind of elegant simplicity that only comes from decades of thinking carefully about something.
This episode is for anyone who’s ever felt the frustration of working in a system that seems to resist the very changes it claims to want. Rose doesn’t offer easy answers – and I think that’s what makes the conversation worth your time. She asks better questions instead.
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Teaching Hope in an Age of Uncertainty
Photo: Derek Wenmoth
Why empowering student agency has never mattered more – and what you can do about it in your classroom and kura tomorrow.
A conversation I had this week with a colleague reminded me of an OECD report I’d read highlighting the importance of empowering our young people to think and act in meaningful ways when it comes to our environment and the future of the planet.
The conversation centred around an incident in a classroom where a student – bright, engaged, the kind who asks the questions that keep you on your toes – looked up from a newspaper article about the implications of NZ’s decision to begin further mining of the seabed and asked: “What’s the point?”
This sort of question can stop you in your tracks. Not because you don’t have an answer, but because some part of you understands exactly where that feeling comes from.
We are living and teaching in the Anthropocene – the geological era defined by human impact on Earth’s systems. Climate change, biodiversity loss, ocean acidification: these are not distant abstractions for our students. They are the world they are inheriting. And right now, New Zealand’s own policy landscape is shifting in ways that make this conversation even more urgent for our classrooms.
The question is not whether we should equip young people for this reality. The question is how — and whether we are bold enough to do it well.
What the OECD Is Telling Us – and Why It Matters
In 2023, the OECD released a landmark document: Agency in the Anthropocene, which forms part of the PISA 2025 science framework. This is not just another policy paper to skim and file. It is a serious, research-grounded call to reimagine what science education is for.
At its heart, the report argues that 15-year-olds around the world need more than scientific knowledge. They need the capacity to act – individually and collectively – with hope and efficacy in the face of complex, interconnected ecological challenges.
The OECD identifies five core competencies that sit at the heart of this vision:
Systems thinking – the ability to understand how things are connected, how changes in one part of a system ripple through others, and how humans are not outside of ecosystems but part of them.
Self-efficacy – a genuine belief that one’s own actions can make a difference. Not blind optimism, but grounded confidence.
Collective efficacy – understanding that working together multiplies impact, and that the challenges we face are too large for individual heroes.
Outcome expectancy – the ability to reason about consequences: if we do X, what might happen, and for whom?
Hope – not wishful thinking, but what the researchers call “substantiated hope”: belief in viable pathways forward, built on evidence and imagination alike.
These are not soft skills. They are the intellectual and emotional infrastructure young people need to engage as citizens – rather than retreat into helplessness or cynicism.
The New Zealand Context: Why This Hits Close to Home
For New Zealand educators, this framework lands in a particularly charged moment. Our policy environment has shifted significantly in recent years, and our students are paying attention.
The Resource Management Act (1991) – a cornerstone of New Zealand’s environmental governance for three decades – is being replaced by the Planning and Natural Environment Bills, designed to streamline consents and accelerate economic development. Fast-track approval processes now allow ministers to expedite major projects, creating real tension between development pressures and biodiversity protection.
Methane reduction targets have been revised downward to between 14 and 24 percent below 2017 levels by 2050, with the government favouring technological solutions over agricultural pricing mechanisms. Meanwhile, the previous ban on offshore oil and gas exploration has been lifted.
I am not here to tell you what to think about any of these decisions. That is not the teacher’s role – and it is not mine. But I am saying this: your students know these things are happening. They are forming opinions, feeling things, asking hard questions. The choice we face is not whether they engage with these realities, but whether school is a place that equips them to engage well.
School can be the place where confusion becomes curiosity, where anger becomes advocacy, and where uncertainty becomes the starting point for inquiry – rather than the end of it.
What Agency Actually Looks Like in Schools
Here is where I want to get practical, because I know that “student agency” can sometimes feel like one of those phrases that sounds meaningful in a keynote and then evaporates when you’re standing in front of 28 Year 10s on a Tuesday afternoon.
As I’ve written in our book, Agency By Design, agency is not the same as simply giving students choice. It is not about letting students do whatever they want, or abandoning curriculum structure. The OECD framework is clear that agency requires knowledge – deep, rigorous scientific understanding – as its foundation. You cannot think systemically about what you do not understand.
But agency does require something that is sometimes harder to build into our teaching: genuine stakes. Real questions. Authentic audiences. The sense that what happens in this classroom connects to what happens out there.
Here are four practical approaches you can begin with – none of which require a curriculum overhaul, and all of which I have seen work in New Zealand classrooms:
1. Systems Mapping Choose a real, local issue – a proposed fast-track development near your school, a change to freshwater regulations, a threatened species in your rohe. Ask students to map the system: who and what is affected, what are the feedback loops, where are the leverage points? The goal is not to arrive at a “correct” answer but to practice the habit of seeing connections. Students who can map systems are students who resist simplistic narratives – and that is a skill that transfers far beyond science class. A fun way to do this is to use giant sheets of butcher paper and post-it notes. Physical, messy, collaborative mapping often surfaces insights that digital tools miss.
2. Efficacy Projects Self-efficacy is not built through affirmation – it is built through experience. It is about building hope through action. Students need to actually do something, present it to a real audience, and see that their work has impact. Student-led audits of things like waste collection at your school or oxygen level readings in a local stream are some of the effective examples I’ve seen. Students gather real data, analyse it, and present recommendations to the board of trustees or local council. The learning is rigorous. The audience is real. The stakes matter. The point is not whether every recommendation gets adopted. The point is that students experience themselves as people whose analysis is taken seriously. These sorts of investigation provide authentic ways to partner with your local council or a community organisation early. Even a 30-minute slot at a community meeting can transform a student’s sense of what is possible.
3. Hope Dialogues One of the most powerful things a teacher can model is how to hold complexity without collapsing into either denial or despair. Hope dialogues are structured conversations where students grapple with real policy trade-offs – the kind where there are no easy answers. Cross-age forums work particularly well here. Pair senior students with juniors to explore questions like: What do we owe future generations? How do we weigh economic development against biodiversity? What role should mātauranga Māori play alongside Western science in decision-making? These conversations do not need to reach consensus. They need to build the capacity to reason carefully about competing values – which is exactly what citizenship in a democratic society requires. Practical tip: Use a structured protocol like Socratic seminar or philosophical chairs to ensure all voices are heard — especially quieter students who often have the most considered views.
4. Civic Simulations Democracy is a set of skills, not just a set of values. Role-playing a resource consent hearing, a select committee submission, or a community consultation practises the actual moves of civic participation – making an argument, listening to opposition, revising a position. Simulating a planning consultation around a fictional (or real) fast-track development gives students a chance to inhabit different perspectives: the developer, the environmental advocate, the farmer, the iwi representative, the Minister. It builds both systems thinking and outcome expectancy in one exercise. Where possible, consider inviting a local councillor, planner, or community advocate to attend the final simulation and give feedback. The shift in student engagement when there is a real adult in the room taking them seriously is remarkable.
A Word to Principals and School Leaders
Individual teachers doing brave, creative things in their classrooms matter enormously. But they should not have to fight the system to do it. If you are a principal or a leader, here is what your teachers need from you:
Permission to go slow on coverage and deep on understanding. The OECD framework asks us to value competency over content breadth. That requires trust from leadership.
Cross-curricular time and structures. Agency in the Anthropocene does not live only in science. Social studies, te reo Māori, health, and the arts all have roles to play. Create the timetable space for genuine integration.
Community connections. The most powerful efficacy-building experiences happen at the intersection of school and community. Use your networks to open doors for student action projects.
Your own modelling. Talk openly with staff and students about the challenges of this moment. Leaders who engage honestly with uncertainty – rather than projecting false confidence – build exactly the culture in which student agency can flourish.
New Zealand has an opportunity to position its education system as a genuine example of what it looks like to prepare rangatahi for the Anthropocene. That is not a small thing. But it will not happen through a single unit plan or a new resource. It will happen through thousands of small, deliberate choices – by teachers and principals who believe their students are capable of more than we sometimes ask of them.
Back to that student story
Remember the student who asked, “What’s the point?” Here is what I want us to be able to say – not as a platitude, but as something we have built into the fabric of how we teach:
“The point is you. Your thinking matters. Your actions matter. And in this classroom, we are going to practise being the kind of people the world needs right now.”
That is what agency in the Anthropocene looks like in practice. Not certainty. Not easy answers. But genuine belief – backed by knowledge, skill, and experience – that what we do matters.
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The Seeds We Sowed: Reflections on Culture, Leadership, and What Endures
Photo credit: Derek Wenmoth
Over the weekend I found myself in a room full of people I hadn’t seen in years – some for a decade or more. We had gathered to celebrate and reconnect, former staff and colleagues from Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education, the organisation I co-founded in 2003 with Nick Billowes and the late Vince Ham (and joined later by Ali Hughes). And yet, despite the years and the distance, it felt like no time had passed at all.
That’s not nothing. In fact, I’d argue it’s everything.
When more than eighty people travel from over all parts of New Zealand and Australia to be with colleagues they worked alongside ten, fifteen, even twenty years ago – and when the energy in the room is genuinely warm, genuinely joyful – you’re witnessing the residue of something real. Culture doesn’t just evaporate when people leave an organisation. If it was authentic, it travels with them. It shapes who they become. As one of our speakers put it: “You didn’t just shape our work – you shaped us.”
So what was it that made Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education such a formative place? And what might school leaders take from our reflections?
The Mission Was a Compass, Not a Slogan
Our mission statement – “pushing the boundaries of educational possibility” – wasn’t something we put on a website and forgot about. It was, as I described in my speech on the evening, a compass. And yes, it was a little scary. Which is exactly how it should be.
The best missions create productive discomfort. They ask more of you than you thought you could give. They make you stretch. I told the story of when Nick first failed a course I was running back in 1995 because he submitted his assignment as a series of linked HTML pages rather than a printable essay. He didn’t fail because he was being difficult – he was being exactly who he was: someone who couldn’t help but push at the edges of the possible. That instinct, multiplied across a team of people who shared it, became the culture of Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education.
For school leaders, your mission statement is either alive in the daily decisions people make, or it’s decoration. Ask yourself honestly – does your school’s mission genuinely shape what gets prioritised, what gets celebrated, and what gets challenged? If not, it’s worth revisiting not just the words, but how they’re kept visible and real.
Flat Management Means Everyone Has a Seat at the Table
One theme that surfaced again and again across the weekend was the sense of genuine inclusion – that people’s ideas mattered, that they had agency, that their professional confidence was built rather than managed.
Our early years team spoke movingly about this. Coming from a sector with a history of being “invisible, patronised and positioned on the margins,” they might easily have found themselves sidelined in a school-sector-focused organisation. Instead, as they described it, they found themselves in “an organisational culture that stretched our thinking, gave us a seat at the table of ideas and innovation, and built a professional confidence that still resonates in our lives today.”
Flat management is often misunderstood as the absence of leadership. It isn’t. It’s a form of leadership that trusts people, distributes decision-making, and creates the conditions for others to grow. It requires a particular kind of confidence from those at the top – a willingness to not be the smartest person in the room, but instead to fill the room with the smartest people you can find, and then believe in them until they believe in themselves.
As a school leader you might think about who in your organisation genuinely feels heard. Who is invited to the table? Whose ideas shape direction? The answers tell you a great deal about the culture you’ve actually built, as opposed to the one you intend.
Permission-Giving is an Act of Leadership
Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education was known as a risk-taking organisation. We made mistakes. We threw facilitators in at the deep end. We tried things that hadn’t been done before, and some of them didn’t work. But the culture was one in which people felt permission to try – and crucially, to fail – without it defining them. And through that we did, arguably, achieve considerable success!
This is harder to achieve than it sounds. Permission-giving leadership requires explicit signals from those with positional authority: it’s okay to experiment here, it’s okay to bring ideas that might not work, it’s okay to challenge how we’ve always done things. Without those signals, people default to caution. And cautious organisations don’t push boundaries.
Nick was a maestro of this. He had an extraordinary ability to make people feel that what they were attempting was not only possible but important – and then to quietly ensure they had what they needed to succeed.
As a school leader you might think about what permissions have you explicitly given your team? Have you named them out loud? Have you backed them up when something didn’t go to plan? Culture is shaped less by what leaders say and more by how they respond when things get difficult.
Cultural Responsiveness Is Not Optional
One of the things I’m most proud of in Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education’s journey is how seriously we took our obligations under Te Tiriti o Waitangi – and how that evolved from an intention into something genuinely embedded in who we were.
It didn’t start perfectly. From the day we started the organisation we were fortunate to have Hemi, Daph and Kathe on our team, enabling us to interface meaningfully with Kura Kaupapa and Māori educators. But they did more than that – they brought their influence into the way we worked as an organisation, sowing the seeds for the strong cultural foundation we established. This led to the appointment of De and Whare and the broader Te Ao Māori team, allowing Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education to move from being an organisation with good intentions to one that was genuinely walked the talk.
The principle of partnership as defined in Te Tiriti o Waitangi – of working alongside rather than doing to – turned out to be deeply aligned with the rest of our culture. Genuine partnership means shared power. It means different voices shaping direction. It means being willing to be changed by the relationship, not just to manage it. I feel very proud of the way in which Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education embraced that principle and the way it was exhibited in the way we worked. I was moved on the night to hear one of our senior Māori staff say in her speech that “CORE is the first organisation that she’d ever joined where she didn’t feel like she had to apologise for being Māori.”
From this experience I’ve learned that cultural responsiveness isn’t a programme you implement. It’s a journey you commit to, and it requires honesty about where you are now. The communities your school serves deserve to see themselves reflected in your leadership, your curriculum, and your culture. Where are you on that journey, and who are you walking alongside?
Organisations Don’t Always Endure – But Their Seeds Do
Towards the end of the evening, one of our former board members offered a reflection that has stayed with me. She noted that Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education, in its current form, might look smaller than it once was. But she reframed this beautifully: it hadn’t downsized – it had seeded. The people who passed through Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education carried something with them when they left. They became leaders, innovators, advisors, researchers. They took the values of the organisation and planted them elsewhere.
That, I think, is the real measure of a culture. Not whether the organisation itself persists in its original form, but whether what it stood for continues to live in the people it shaped.
Looking around the room on Saturday – the laughter, the stories, the genuine warmth between people who had shared something real – I felt that evidence vividly.
What I Take from the Weekend
I didn’t return from this reunion feeling nostalgic. I returned feeling renewed – and a little challenged.
Because the truth is, the world needs the kind of educational leadership that Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education stood for more urgently now than it did in 2003. The temptation in education at the moment is to retreat to what’s easily measurable, to comply rather than to lead, to follow the path rather than create a new one.
But the people in that room on Saturday are living proof that it’s possible to build organisations where people are genuinely trusted, where mission guides decision-making, where risk is embraced, where partnership is real, and where the goal is not efficiency but transformation.
These principles don’t belong to Tātai Aho Rau/CORE Education. They belong to anyone willing to put them into practice.
The question for each of us – as leaders, as educators, as people who care about what happens to children in schools – is whether we’re willing to push the boundaries of educational possibility in our own context, in our own time.
I believe we are.
Ngā mihi nui, Derek
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In it, the Commissioner describes a Public Service that has served New Zealand well – but whose current operating model is coming under increasing pressure. The message is clear: if the Public Service is to continue serving New Zealanders well into the future, it must adapt.
As I read it, I couldn’t help but think: education is not separate from this story. It is one of the largest and most visible parts of the public service. If the system risks identified in this report are real, they are already showing up in our schools. And in many cases, they’re being managed every day by principals and boards of trustees.
The report identifies six major areas of risk:
fragmentation and silos
lack of whole-of-system perspective
slow uptake of enabling technologies such as AI
numerous sub-scale agencies
ongoing fiscal pressure
insufficient talent development
None of these are abstract in education. They are lived realities. In what follows I’ve tried to expand a little on how each risk area applies in our education system.
1. Fragmentation: When No One Owns the Whole Journey
Fragmentation is perhaps the most visible risk in our current education – a consequence, in part, of the Tomorrow’s School’s reforms.
A learner’s journey – from ECE to schooling to tertiary to work – is governed, funded, and measured in separate policy silos. No one agency truly owns the trajectory. Schools, meanwhile, juggle overlapping initiatives in wellbeing, literacy, digital technologies, assessment reform, equity, and vocational pathways – each with its own reporting and accountability requirements.
For a student with complex needs, fragmentation is even more tangible. School, Learning Support, Health, Oranga Tamariki, NGOs — coordination often relies on relationships and goodwill rather than deliberate system design.
If a 15-year-old can fall between the gaps of our own education structures, that is what “fragmented and siloed” looks like for citizens.
We see the same fragmentation in the teacher workforce. Initial Teacher Education (ITE) is designed and quality-assured in one part of the system. In-service Professional Learning and Development (PLD) is commissioned and delivered through another. There is no coherent, career-long “learning spine” connecting preparation, induction, mentoring, leadership development and ongoing growth.
2. A Missing Whole-of-System Perspective
This issue is something I’ve highlighted a number of times in previous blog posts – it is, in my view, one of the key things holding us back from being truly innovative and successful in our endeavours to create a world class education experience for our tamariki.
A whole-of-system perspective should design around the learner’s lifetime journey. Instead, policy shifts often occur at one level without a shared picture of cross-sector consequences.
Curriculum refreshes, qualification reform, vocational redesign, workforce strategies – each may be defensible in isolation. But do they connect into a coherent, long-term pipeline?
Data systems still largely stop at sector boundaries. Leaders see their patch – a school, a Kāhui Ako, a tertiary provider – rather than the full arc of learners’ lives.
Without a whole-of-system lens, optimisation in one area can create pressure in another.
3. AI: A Canary in the Coal Mine
The Public Service report highlights slow uptake of enabling technologies such as AI across the public service. Education may be the canary in the coal mine.
Generative AI is already reshaping assessment, teaching practice, administration and workforce capability in schools and systems across the world. Yet schools in New Zealand are left to develop policy, ethical guidelines, and professional learning independently, often with uneven infrastructure and limited system-level support.
If education is central to New Zealand’s future productivity and innovation, then slow, fragmented AI capability development in education should concern us deeply. The place where we most need future capability is one of the places receiving the least coherent guidance.
4. Many Small Entities, Fragile Resilience
New Zealand’s education landscape is built on many relatively small institutions – schools, kura, wānanga, PTEs – each with limited specialist capacity. Some of this is a consequence of our geography, some related to the expression of different educational ideologies and philosophies. The local responsiveness introduced under Tomorrow’s Schools can be a strength. But system resilience can be fragile.
In small schools especially, principals carry multiple specialist roles: curriculum leader, SENCO, property manager, ICT strategist, pastoral lead. When a key person leaves, institutional knowledge leaves with them.
Career pathways are similarly constrained. Talented educators often have to leave their community – or leave education entirely – to find progression.
Local autonomy without structured cross-system pathways can limit both resilience and talent growth.
5. Fiscal Pressure: The Daily Trade-Off
Fiscal pressure is not an abstract Treasury line item in education. It is the teacher who does not get release time for PLD. It is the learning support that cannot be extended. It is the choice between upgrading digital infrastructure or adding staffing.
Schools are regularly asked to implement curriculum change, strengthen inclusion, respond to wellbeing needs, integrate digital and AI capability – often within static or tightening baselines.
Under sustained pressure, short-term fixes crowd out long-term capability building. And equity ambitions are the most vulnerable when budgets tighten.
6. Talent Development: The System’s Mirror
If education is how we grow the country’s talent, then how we grow talent within education matters enormously.
Teacher shortages, workload pressures, ageing demographics, and limited structured leadership pathways signal strain. Leaders are expected to navigate AI, data use, cultural capability, and complex change – yet systematic, career-long development pathways remain patchy.
As mentioned earlier, ITE and PLD still operate largely as separate markets rather than as a single, strategic pipeline, meaning there’s often a lack of coherent in what people are experiencing and being told as they move between these parts of the system.
In that sense, education mirrors the broader public-sector challenge the report identifies: insufficient, system-level investment in talent development.
What This Means for Principals
For principals, these risks are not theoretical. They show up as:
trying to knit together multiple national initiatives without a coherent implementation roadmap
making AI policy decisions with limited guidance
balancing staffing and innovation under fiscal constraint
struggling to build leadership pipelines within small teams
So what can leaders do?
Map fragmentation locally. Identify every initiative, agency and provider interacting with your school. Where are the overlaps? Where are the gaps? Simplify where you can.
Strengthen the ITE–PLD bridge. Build deliberate partnerships that create continuity from practicum to early-career development.
Take a strategic stance on AI. Choose a small number of priority use-cases and build capability deliberately rather than reactively. Join a national community of practice focused on sharing knowledge and experiences.
Invest in leadership pipelines. Grow internal talent intentionally.
Tell a whole-of-learner story. Use reporting and planning to make transition points and system gaps visible.
You may not be able to redesign the public service – but you can reduce fragmentation inside your sphere of influence.
What This Means for Boards
Boards sit where national system risks become local realities. Governance can either amplify fragmentation – or counter it. Boards can:
Integrate national priorities into a small number of coherent, learner-centred strategic goals.
Ask whole-of-system questions: How does this decision support learners across transitions?
Treat principal PLD as strategic investment, not compliance.
Govern deliberately for AI and digital capability.
Monitor workforce wellbeing, supply and development as core strategic indicators.
Boards and principals cannot fix every system weakness. But they can model what a less fragmented, more future-focused, talent-nourishing education system looks like in practice.
A Final Reflection
What struck me most in reading the Public Service report is that it is not a crisis document. It is a warning document.
It says: the model that served us well may not be sufficient for what comes next.
In education, we should hear that clearly. Because when system weaknesses go unaddressed, they don’t remain in reports. They show up in classrooms. And that is where the stakes are highest.
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People at the Heart of Education
I recently had the privilege of sitting down with Philly Wintle, Deputy Principal at Albany Senior High School, for a conversation that reminded me why I love talking with educators who are still in the classroom, still working with students every day, still navigating the beautiful chaos of school life.
Philly’s been teaching for nearly 19 years and in that time has had experience in a range of contexts, but what really struck me about our conversation wasn’t just her experience – it was her passion for supporting early career teachers and her vision for what education could be.
Future-Focused Doesn’t Mean Tech-Focused
We kicked off talking about the future of education, and Philly shared something that really resonated. Prompted a conversation with her husband who works in the software industry, she’s come to believe that futures-focused education isn’t primarily about technology at all. Instead, it’s about something much more fundamental: people.
“The world and our communities are becoming increasingly diverse,” Philly explained. “If we are supporting young people to move into a future that will be more colourful and more diverse and more vibrant than the one we’re living in, then people are going to need to know how to make genuine, kind, warm, authentic connections with other people.”
Those core capabilities – communication skills, critical thinking, empathy, collaboration, the ability to integrate perspectives different from your own etc. These aren’t new ideas – they’re already woven through our curriculum. But Philly’s point is that these human skills are becoming more critical, not less, as our world evolves.
The Post-COVID Reality
To illustrate her point Philly described a moment from her own recent experience. She was trying to run a simple group activity with her tutor class, watching eyes roll, seeing students literally leave the room rather than engage with peers they didn’t know.
“I do feel like it’s harder for young people to do that now than it used to be,” she shared. She recalled the stark difference when students returned after Auckland’s extended lockdowns -how activities that used to work seamlessly suddenly “tanked like nothing had ever tanked before.”
But here’s the thing – Philly didn’t give up. She persevered with a simple cup-stacking activity using rubber bands and string. By the end, everyone was laughing, and the most reluctant student had stepped into a leadership role.
It’s a powerful reminder: our young people still need us to create spaces where they can develop these essential human skills, perhaps now more than ever.
And here’s the challenge for educators to embrace. How do we ensure our approach to working as an educator truly addresses this need – particularly in a climate where the emphasis on knowledge acquisition remains a primary focus of our curriculum?
The Forgotten Cohort: Early Career Teachers
Our conversation became more positive and action oriented when we began talking about early career teachers – those in their first decade of teaching.
Philly reflected on her own early career experience, from 2007 to about 2017, as a kind of “heyday” of professional learning opportunities. Twitter networks. ICTPD clusters. Conferences. Webinars. A smorgasbord of PD that helped her grow as an educator.
But the past five or six years? Philly senses they’ve been different. Between COVID, curriculum changes, NCEA reviews, changes of government, new matrices, and now another U-turn with NCEA being reconsidered altogether – teachers in their first ten years haven’t had the same breathing space. “Education continues to be a political football,” Philly noted, “and it’s exhausting.”
These teachers – the ones who need about five years just to feel confident they know what they’re doing – have spent their formative professional years in constant reactive mode. They haven’t had the same opportunities to be creative, to connect, to find joy in the profession.
And this matters. Because teacher retention matters. Because the quality of education depends on engaged, enthused, skilled educators who stick around.
An Invitation to Join the Conversation
This is why Philly sees the opportunities to work with the EdRising initiative as so important. She and some other colleagues are creating space for teachers in those critical first ten years to connect, collaborate, engage in shared inquiry, and rediscover the joy and possibility in teaching.
As she put it: “We are so lucky and so privileged to be doing the job that we’re doing, working with young people at the most tumultuous, vulnerable and hectic time of their lives. And what better way to be supporting those young people into their futures by making connections with other teachers who are doing the same awesome job.”
Watch the Full Conversation
I encourage you to watch or listen to the full podcast. Philly’s energy and insight shine through in ways that a blog post can’t quite capture. We covered so much more – from how Albany Senior High’s unique environment shapes their approach to teacher induction, to the importance of schools developing their own authentic cultures, to the challenge of preparing teachers for diverse school contexts.
View our conversation below…
Your Turn
Whether you’re a principal thinking about the early career teachers in your school, or you’re in those first ten years of teaching yourself, I’d love to hear your thoughts:
What’s been your experience navigating the changes in education over recent years?
How do we better support teachers in that critical first decade?
What would meaningful professional learning and connection look like for you?
Drop your thoughts in the comments, or reach out if you’re interested in being part of the growing EdRising network. Because as Philly reminded me, our strength comes through the networks we build – and education’s future depends on keeping passionate, skilled teachers engaged in the profession.
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Flexibility Isn’t a Feature – It’s the Future
In my latest conversation on the future of education I spoke with Te Rina Leonard, CEO of Te Aho o Te Kura Pounamu (the New Zealand Correspondence School), and what started as a conversation about online learning quickly became something much more profound. We ended up exploring what it really means to build an education system that flexes to meet students where they are, rather than expecting them to contort themselves to fit our structures.
From “Last Resort” to Safety Net
Something that’s been bugging me for years, ever since I worked at Te Kura as director of eLearning. It’s the way Te Kura has often been dismissed as the “school of last resort.” You know the narrative – it’s the backstop when the “real” education system can’t cope. But talking with Te Rina, I’m reminded that this framing completely misses the point.
At any given time, Te Kura is working with about 8,000 full-time students across Aotearoa. That’s not a small side project. That’s a significant chunk of our young people who need something different from what traditional face-to-face schools can offer. And here’s the thing – 80% of those students come through Ministry of Education referrals because their needs simply weren’t being met in conventional settings.
As Te Rina puts it, they’re not the last resort. They’re the safety net that keeps young people engaged in education when life gets complicated. Sometimes that’s for a term, sometimes for a year, sometimes longer. The point is, Te Kura keeps the door open.
The Power of Flexibility
What struck me most in our conversation was Te Rina’s insistence that education needs to flex to meet kids’ needs, not the other way around. This sounds obvious when you say it out loud, doesn’t it? But think about how most of our education system actually operates. We’ve built structures – timetables, buildings, year levels, standardised approaches – and then we expect kids and whānau to adapt to them.
Te Kura flips this. They’re not constrained by bells and building maintenance. They can think more laterally about what learning looks like for each student. And the results speak for themselves. Their Summer School program had 4,000 students this year, getting that extra support they needed for NCEA credits while balancing whānau commitments and summer jobs. That’s flexibility in action.
It’s About Partnership, Not Isolation
One myth Te Rina was quick to dispel is that Te Kura doesn’t see itself as operating in isolation from the rest of the education system. In fact, they’re at their best when working alongside face-to-face schools, other agencies, and community organisations.
This really resonates with me because it connects back to a broader question about how we think about “system” in education. Too often, schools operate as isolated units – sometimes even with isolated classrooms within those schools. But what if we thought more intentionally about how different parts of our education ecosystem could work together to serve students better?
Te Rina shared how they’ve been inspired by the Big Picture Learning model, including their “Leaving to Learn” team. These are people whose job is to get out into the community and find internships, shadowing opportunities, and real-world connections for students. Imagine if you’re 16, dropped out of school with no qualifications, but you know you’re interested in trees. Instead of starting with “here are your literacy and numeracy prerequisites,” they start with that passion. They help you see why you need those prerequisites to get your forestry or horticulture qualification. That’s relevance driving engagement.
Rethinking the Role of Teachers
This partnership approach also extends to how Te Kura thinks about teaching roles. They’ve introduced the concept of “kaimahi” – essentially a learning adviser who works with about 15 students, really getting to know them and their needs. It’s like a form class, but more intentional about the caring and advocacy role.
What I appreciate is that they’re honest about what this means. When they initially wondered if teachers could take on finding internships as well, teachers rightly pushed back. “We’re teachers,” they said. “We want to focus on teaching.” So Te Kura brought in internship coordinators. They recognised that supporting young people well sometimes means having different people with different skills working as a team.
This feels important for how we think about education’s future. It’s not about making teachers do everything. It’s about building teams around students.
The Face-to-Face Paradox
Here’s something counterintuitive: despite being an online learning organisation, Te Kura is deeply invested in face-to-face connection. As Te Rina points out, their whānau are hungry for face-to-face contact. They want to eyeball their teachers just like parents in face-to-face schools do.
Technology enables flexibility, yes. But it doesn’t replace human connection. It’s a tool, not a destination.
What This Means for Education’s Future
This conversation with Te Rina has me thinking about what we could learn from Te Kura’s approach more broadly:
What if we designed education to be genuinely flexible from the start? Not as a special accommodation or alternative pathway, but as core design principle.
What if we thought more systematically about how different educational settings could work together? Te Kura isn’t competing with face-to-face schools. They’re filling a different need. How might this kind of thinking reshape how we approach educational provision?
What if we really centred student voice and relevance? Starting with a young person’s interests and building from there, rather than forcing them through a predetermined sequence.
What if we got better at building teams around students? Rather than expecting individual teachers to be everything for everyone.
A Challenge for All of Us
At one point in our conversation, Te Rina talked about Te Kura’s value of whanaungatanga – how they team through positive, accountable relationships. She was clear that this doesn’t mean being nice all the time. It means being accountable to each other and to the students they serve.
That feels like a challenge for all of us in education. Not the “black box” model where what happens in my classroom or my school is mine alone. But genuine teamwork in service of young people.
Listen to the Full Conversation
This blog post barely scratches the surface of our conversation. Te Rina brings such passion and clarity to this work, grounded in her background as an educational psychologist and her deep commitment to kids who need support most.
I’d encourage you to listen to the full episode to hear:
More about how Te Kura’s model actually works in practice
Te Rina’s insights on what draws students to Te Kura (hint: it’s often about whānau connections and cultural responsiveness)
Her perspective on the future role of organisations like Te Kura in Aotearoa’s education system
The story of how she accidentally enrolled in physiology instead of psychology (it’s a good one!)
Over 100 years of experience in distance and online learning doesn’t just disappear. There’s wisdom here that’s relevant to all of us thinking about education’s future.
What are your thoughts on flexibility in education? How might your context learn from Te Kura’s approach? I’d love to hear from you in the comments or via email.
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Who should decide what?
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In my previous two posts, I’ve argued that we need to rethink how we measure system success – expanding beyond test scores to include the capabilities young people actually need (Post 1) – and that this requires sustained investment in teacher professional learning, leadership development, learning support, and cultural responsiveness (Post 2).
Many of you have engaged thoughtfully with these arguments. But several have also asked the most practical question of all:
“Even if we agree on what to measure and commit to resourcing it properly, who actually decides what happens? How do we avoid either top-down prescription that ignores local context, or fragmented autonomy that produces inequity?”
In this post I want to tackle exactly that question. Because how we distribute decision-making authority will determine whether broader measures of success remain aspirational rhetoric or become lived reality in our schools.
The Paradox We’re Living With
New Zealand’s education system presents a troubling paradox. Since 1989, we’ve operated one of the world’s most devolved school systems, giving individual schools unprecedented autonomy. Investment in education has steadily increased. Yet our system-level outcomes have remained stubbornly flat or declined, and the inequities that Tomorrow’s Schools promised to address have, if anything, deepened.
In my recent conversations with Bali Haque (who chaired the Tomorrow’s Schools review task force) and Cathy Wylie (who has been tracking our education system since 1987 and was also a member of the Tomorrow’s Schools Task Force) both reflected on what went wrong. As Bali put it, we created “2,500 islands of autonomy” where the whole concept of subsidiarity meant decision-making power sat with individual boards of trustees. The result, as both researchers found, was that the connections schools need for genuine improvement “got shredded in that process.”
Cathy describes it as “a very segmented system” that left schools isolated, racing through curriculum changes, managing property and competition, but without the ongoing connections and support needed to genuinely improve teaching and learning for all students.
The wastage has been enormous. Schools made technology decisions based on whoever “knew something about computers,” creating a mishmash that made national coordination nearly impossible. Principals focused heavily on property expansion and student competition rather than educational improvement. Meanwhile, the complexity of our classrooms grew – increasing cultural diversity, greater inclusion of students with additional learning needs, rising poverty and inequality – without corresponding increases in the collaborative structures and professional support teachers needed to respond effectively.
A 2016 report from what was then the State Services Commission examined the education system’s stewardship and found that “the adoption of good practice was almost always referred to as patchy. And the uptake of promising innovation is seen as slow to spread across the system.” As Bali noted, “You get a report in the paper saying such and such principal has turned around such and such a school – and almost inevitably, over a period of time that peters out and the system just carries on.”
Bali added; “We asked every school to solve increasingly complex challenges alone, as if 2,500 individual solutions could somehow add up to system success.”
This matters now more than ever. Current debates about curriculum and “back to basics” reflect genuine anxiety about student outcomes, but risk repeating the same mistake – imposing centralised solutions on isolated schools without building the collaborative infrastructure that makes sustainable improvement possible. As our society fragments and the future of work demands adaptability, critical thinking, and collaborative problem-solving, we need an education system that models these very capabilities.
If the last three decades have shown the limits of letting every school go it alone, the question now is: What kind of shared system do we need to support local strength?
Getting Clear About Where Decisions Belong
If we’re going to build a system that supports both local strength and collective improvement, we need to get much clearer about where decisions belong. Not every choice needs to be made at every level. In fact, the current model – where schools are expected to be expert in everything from pedagogical leadership to property management to strategic planning to community development – has spread leadership impossibly thin.
So here are the two questions that should guide our thinking:
What decisions genuinely require local knowledge, trust, and relationships to be good decisions?
And conversely:
2. What decisions, if left only to individual schools, predictably produce unfair variation or wasted effort?
Getting this balance right isn’t about centralisation versus autonomy. It’s about clarity of purpose and intelligent distribution of responsibility.
Local Decisions: Close to the Learner
Some decisions can only be made well by people who know their students, their community, and their context intimately. These are the decisions that should stay firmly in the hands of school leaders, teachers, and their communities.
1. Learning Culture and Pedagogy
In my view, schools must lead on how learning actually happens in their classrooms. This means decisions about teaching approaches, assessment for learning practices, and how they bring the curriculum to life in ways that connect with their students’ worlds. No ministry official or distant advisor can tell a teacher when to slow down and dig deeper with a particular concept, or when a student needs a different entry point into the learning.
The solution isn’t more prescription from the centre – it’s investment in deep professional learning where teachers develop genuine pedagogical expertise. It’s creating time and structures for inquiry cycles where teachers can systematically examine their practice and its impact. It’s co-designing learning with students and whānau so that pedagogy is responsive, not just prescribed.
Reflection question:What is one decision about pedagogy or partnership you would never want taken away from your school – and how well are you currently equipped to make it well?
2. Community Identity and Partnerships
Schools shape how local histories, languages, and aspirations show up in everyday practice. The relationship between a school and its mana whenua, the ways it honours te reo Māori and tikanga, the partnerships it builds with local organisations – these emerge from genuine relationship, not compliance checklists. A school in South Auckland and a school in rural Southland will and should look very different in how they express their commitment to te Tiriti and their community’s identity.
The solution is giving schools the time and structural support for authentic partnership. This means resourcing engagement with mana whenua properly, creating space for community voices – including student voice – to genuinely shape decisions, and building partnerships with local organisations that can wrap support around whānau.
In addition, as we experience increasing cultural diversity in the New Zealand population, different communities will also require guidance and support for building effective learning partnerships with families arriving in New Zealand with their own expressions of culture.
Reflection question:Who in your community would say they feel genuinely heard and valued in how your school operates – and who would not?
3. Daily Organisation of People, Time, and Space
Schools need flexibility in how they organise timetables, group students, deploy staff, and use their spaces. A rigid, one-size-fits-all approach to school organisation makes little sense when schools serve such diverse communities and learners. Some schools might benefit from longer learning blocks, others from more integrated project time, still others from flexible groupings that change based on learning needs rather than age.
But here’s the catch: we shouldn’t expect every school to reinvent these wheels alone. The solution is to share prototypes and models across schools so that innovative organisational designs can be adapted rather than recreated from scratch each time. This is where networks and hubs become invaluable – not telling schools what to do, but enabling them to learn from each other’s experimental process.
Reflection question:What is one aspect of how you organise time, people, or space that you’re genuinely proud of – and have you shared it with other schools who might benefit?
Shared Decisions: Close to the System
But here’s where we need to be equally honest: there are decisions that individual schools cannot and should not have to make alone. These are areas where stronger central or network-level stewardship isn’t a threat to school autonomy – it’s a prerequisite for it to work well.
1. Coherent, Stable System Purposes and Indicators
Individual schools can’t decide what counts as success for the whole system. When every school defines quality differently, we inevitably end up with wild variation – and it’s predictably our most vulnerable learners who lose out. We need central leadership to set and protect a small set of shared outcomes and measures that genuinely balance the basics with equity and broader competencies.
The solution isn’t more prescription – it’s less churn and more coherence. These indicators must be co-designed with the sector, not for the sector. We must make sure the data serves learning and improvement, not just compliance and punishment. And for goodness’ sake, stick with them long enough for schools to actually use them for genuine improvement rather than constantly pivoting to the next political priority.
Reflection question:If you could design one system-level indicator that would actually help your school improve, what would it measure – and how would it be different from what’s currently required?
2. Curriculum Spine and Assessment Progression
When every school is interpreting curriculum progressions slightly differently, creating their own assessment tools, and making independent judgments about standards, we get massive inconsistency. A Year 4 student moving from one school to another can find themselves either repeating content or facing unexpected gaps. Teachers waste countless hours creating resources that already exist elsewhere in slightly different forms.
The solution is providing clear, sequenced progressions and high-quality assessment resources that reduce duplication and guesswork. These should be national tools that are optional in method but clear in expectations, with built-in support for diverse learners. Think of it as providing the map and compass, not dictating the exact path every class must follow.
Reflection question:How many hours did your teachers spend this year creating or adapting curriculum and assessment resources that probably exist in similar forms in dozens of other schools – and what could they have done with that time instead?
3. Infrastructure for Collective Improvement
No individual school can build and maintain the depth of expertise needed across all areas of educational practice. We need funded, sustainable regional supports – subject networks, leadership development, cross-school improvement initiatives. We need schools to function as nodes in a learning network, not isolated units each solving the same problems independently.
Bali Haque emphasized this point strongly: “If I were going to pick one thing, I would say school leadership is key… we don’t do that very well. Schools as organisations have different cultures, different ways of operating, and the leadership of schools is critical. But I don’t think we do enough in terms of school leadership—and I mean not just school-based, but also regionally, so that the people who are working on a regional basis who know the schools, who understand what’s happening in every school, those people also have good leadership skills.”
The solution is fundamentally redesigning how support works. Not the old model of schools buying in external expertise when they can afford it, but permanent infrastructure that connects schools horizontally. This is where the concept of local hubs becomes so powerful – not another layer of bureaucracy, but genuine centres of collaborative learning with staff who bring deep curriculum knowledge, assessment expertise, and practical understanding of effective leadership. As both the original Tomorrow’s Schools review and subsequent research have shown, this connective infrastructure is what enables good practice to spread rather than remaining “patchy.”
Reflection question:Which of these decisions is your school currently carrying that would be better held and resourced at network or national level—and what would you gain by letting it go?
4. Equity Levers
Structural inequity is an endemic issue in our system, and schools cannot address this on their own. They can’t, for example, redistribute resources across the system. They can’t coordinate services across health, social welfare, and education. They can’t address the housing crisis or child poverty that walks through their gates every morning. Leaving equity to individual school effort guarantees that the schools serving our most vulnerable communities will remain overwhelmed while better-resourced schools sail ahead.
Bali Haque observed something crucial during the Tomorrow’s Schools review: “Generally speaking, the higher decile schools have much more clout and influence than the lower decile schools and influence the politicians massively.” This creates a particularly pernicious dynamic where schools with the most resources and political influence shape policy in ways that serve their interests, while schools serving our most vulnerable communities struggle to be heard. As Bali noted, the system “perpetuates the polarisation” rather than addressing it.
The solution requires central action on transparent, needs-based resourcing. It means genuinely joined-up services so that families aren’t navigating multiple disconnected agencies. It means accountability for actually closing gaps, not just publishing data about them. And it means acknowledging that some of the decisions about how to allocate resources for maximum equity impact simply cannot be made well at the individual school level.
Reflection question:What is one barrier to equity in your school that you cannot solve alone, no matter how hard you try – and what would it take for the system to address it?
Getting the Balance Right
Here’s what three decades of evidence tells us: radical autonomy without system coherence produces fragmentation and inequity and Centralised prescription without local responsiveness produces compliance and disengagement.
The path forward requires us to be more sophisticated than either extreme. We need to think carefully about distributed expertise, intelligent accountability, and what kind of infrastructure makes both local strength and collective improvement possible.
This isn’t about ideology – it’s about being clear on which decisions genuinely require local knowledge and relationships to be good decisions, and which decisions, if left only to individual schools, predictably produce unfair variation or wasted effort.
What Can We Do Right Now?
The risk with this kind of analysis is that it feels too big, too systemic, too far beyond what any individual can influence. But that’s not true. There are concrete moves each of us can make – moves that, collectively, start building the kind of system we need.
These actions are specifically about decision-making and governance. (For actions around advocacy and investment, see Post 2 in this series.)
1. For School, Cluster and Kāhui Ako Leaders
You’re working in an impossible system, and I know that. But you also have more agency than you might think to shift how decisions get made and where your energy goes.
Map your current decision-making. Take an honest look at which decisions you’re carrying that you’re genuinely under-resourced to make well. Where are you reinventing wheels? Where are you making calls that would benefit from wider expertise or shared infrastructure? Write them down. Name them. That clarity alone is powerful.
Pick your battles strategically. Identify one area where you will lean into local autonomy – where you’ll invest in building your school’s capacity to make excellent decisions because they genuinely require local knowledge and relationships. Maybe it’s learning culture, maybe it’s community partnerships, maybe it’s how you organise learning time. Then identify one area where you will actively seek shared solutions – where you’ll join or create networks to develop common tools, share specialist support, or pool resources. Maybe it’s assessment tools, maybe it’s specialist teaching expertise, maybe it’s IT infrastructure.
Make your progress framework explicit. How will you actually know your learners and staff are better off in three years? Not better test scores – though sure, include those if you must – but genuinely better off. More confident? More connected to their community? More equipped to navigate complexity? More engaged in their learning? Write it down. Share it with your staff, your board, your community. Use it to filter the endless stream of initiatives and decide what actually matters.
And here’s the crucial bit: share what you’re learning. When you try something that works, tell other schools. When something fails, share that too – along with your analysis of why. Some of the most game-changing results in schools I’ve been working in have come from being more intentional about how they share success – from regular newsletter slots to ‘celebration’ events attended by parents and whānau to sharing learning with others in cluster meetings or PLGs for example. That’s how we build collective knowledge instead of isolated pockets of excellence.
2. For System Leaders and Policy Makers
If you’re in a position to shape policy or allocate resources, you have enormous power to either perpetuate the current dysfunction or help build something better.
Commit to a moratorium on major structural changes. Just stop. Please. We’ve had enough restructuring to last a generation. Instead, focus your energy on the two things we established in Posts 1 and 2: co-designing stable measures of success that balance skills with broader capabilities, and resourcing the conditions that make those outcomes achievable. Then stick with them long enough for schools to actually use them for improvement rather than constantly adapting to the next flavour of the month.
Refocus central effort on building connective tissue. The system is fragmented because we’ve systematically defunded and dismantled the infrastructure that connects schools. Rebuild it. Invest in data infrastructure that makes it easy for schools to learn from system-wide patterns without drowning in compliance. Fund regional support properly – not as a nice-to-have when budgets allow, but as core infrastructure. Create high-quality shared resources – curriculum materials, assessment tools, professional learning – that save schools from duplicating effort. And most importantly, protect time for collaboration. Stop loading more and more onto schools and then wondering why they can’t find time to work together.
Involve practitioners early and genuinely in decisions about curriculum, assessment, and accountability. Not token consultation after decisions are already made, but genuine involvement from the beginning. Bring experienced teachers and principals into the design process. Listen to their expertise about what will and won’t work in real classrooms with real kids. Trust that they want what’s best for learners just as much as you do – and that they know things you don’t about how to get there.
Be explicit about your decision-making framework. When new policies are announced, when initiatives are launched, when reforms are proposed – clearly articulate which decisions you’re centralising, which you’re devolving, and why. What’s the theory of action? How does this distribution of decision-making serve the broader capabilities we want to develop (from Post 1)? How does it connect to the investment commitments needed (from Post 2)? This transparency builds trust and enables productive critique.
3. For the Wider Profession and Community
Even if you’re not in a formal leadership role, you can help shift the conversation and build pressure for better approaches.
Start conversations using the two guiding questions (see above). In your staff room, in your professional networks, in your board meetings, in community forums – ask: What decisions genuinely require local knowledge to be good decisions? And what decisions, if left only to individual schools, predictably produce unfair variation or wasted effort? Watch how quickly the conversation moves from ideology to practicality.
Share your stories. Tell people about times when local autonomy led to genuinely better outcomes for learners – and be specific about what made the difference. But also share honestly about where lack of shared supports has held you back. Where you’ve wasted time because you didn’t know what other schools had already figured out. Where you’ve struggled because you were trying to solve a problem that no individual school should have to solve alone. As Bali noted, one Auckland principal asked during the Tomorrow’s Schools review: “What will I have to give up if this is implemented?” This question, he reflected, “encapsulated the whole problem” – schools thinking only about protecting their autonomy rather than what could be gained through connection. These stories are powerful evidence for what needs to change.
Ask for transparency from politicians and officials. When new policies are announced, when initiatives are launched, when reforms are proposed – ask the straightforward questions: Which decisions are you centralising or devolving, and why? What’s the theory of action here? How will this distribution of decision-making actually help develop the capabilities we identified in Post 1? How does it connect to the investments discussed in Post 2? Hold them accountable not just for what they do, but for their reasoning about where decisions belong and whether they’re resourcing what they’re asking for.
Coming Full Circle: Governance in Service of Success
This three-part series began with a fundamental question: How do we measure system success in education?
I argued in Post 1 that we’ve been too narrowly focused in what we are measuring – fixating on test scores while ignoring the capabilities young people actually need to navigate an uncertain future. We established that success must include ecological thinking, cultural fluency, digital wisdom, creative problem-solving, collective leadership, and adaptive resilience alongside foundational literacy and numeracy.
Post 2 confronted the hard truth that you cannot measure these outcomes without investing in the conditions that make them achievable – sustained investment in teacher professional learning, leadership development, learning support, and cultural responsiveness.
And this post has argued that even with the right measures and adequate investment, we’ll fail unless we get governance right – clarifying which decisions belong close to learners and which require system-level coherence.
But here’s what ties all three together: The question of who decides what is ultimately about ensuring that what we measure as success can actually be achieved across the whole system, not just in pockets of excellence.
When we say success means developing ecological thinking or cultural fluency, we’re saying these capabilities matter for every learner, not just those fortunate enough to attend well-resourced schools with innovative teachers. That requires system-level decisions about curriculum progression, assessment tools, and support infrastructure. Individual schools alone cannot create the conditions for all students to develop these capabilities.
When we say success means equity – genuinely closing gaps rather than just documenting them – we’re saying this requires coordinated action that no individual school can take. That requires central decisions about resource allocation, joined-up services, and accountability for outcomes.
When we say success means student agency and wellbeing, we’re saying teachers need the professional learning, time, and support to develop these in their students. That requires investment decisions and collaborative infrastructure that connect schools rather than leaving them isolated.
The distribution of decision-making authority must serve the vision of success we’ve articulated.
If we agree that ecological thinking matters, who decides how it’s developed and how we know students have it? If cultural fluency is essential, who ensures all schools have the resources and expertise to develop it? If equity is non-negotiable, who has the authority to redistribute resources and coordinate services to make it possible?
My conversations with Cathy Wylie and Bali Haque reminded me that we’ve been here before – wrestling with these same tensions, making similar mistakes, occasionally getting glimpses of what works better. The difference now is that we have decades of evidence about what happens when we get the balance wrong.
Both emphasised a crucial point: we can’t achieve system-wide success if principals and schools are only thinking about protecting their individual autonomy rather than building collective capacity. As Bali observed, we need leaders “who understand what’s happening in every school” and who think beyond their own island. We need to move, as he put it, “to a system where schools, teachers, leaders trust the system” rather than operating in constant defensive mode.
The path forward requires being more sophisticated than the extremes of either full centralisation or radical autonomy. It requires asking for every decision: Does this serve the broader definition of success we’ve established? Does it help develop the capabilities we’ve identified? Does it work toward equity or perpetuate fragmentation?
So I return to the core question: What do we agree system success should be and how do we measure it?
We measure it by whether all our young people – not just the privileged few – are developing the capabilities they need for the future we’re handing them. We measure it by whether the gaps between our highest and lowest achieving students are narrowing, not widening. We measure it by whether our governance structures enable or obstruct the achievement of these outcomes.
And we hold ourselves accountable – as educators, leaders, policymakers, and communities – for ensuring that the decisions we make, the investments we commit to, and the measures we track all serve that broader, richer vision of educational success.
I’m keen to hear: Where would you draw the line between local and system decisions in service of the success we’ve defined? What would need to change in your context to make that broader vision of success achievable for all learners, not just some?
The comment section below is open. The conversation continues. And maybe, just maybe, if enough of us start thinking and talking this way, we can build the kind of system our learners actually deserve – one that serves all children, not just the ones who succeed despite its limitations.
This is the final post in a three-part series on rethinking system success in education:
Post 3: Who Should Decide What? (this post) – Getting the governance balance right
These posts draw on conversations with Cathy Wylie and Bali Haque, two of New Zealand’s most experienced educational researchers. Cathy has been tracking our education system since 1987, and Bali chaired the Tomorrow’s Schools review taskforce. You can listen to the full podcast conversations here:
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Resourcing the system we need for measuring success
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Last week I argued that we need to rethink how we measure system success in education. Rather than fixating on narrow metrics like test scores and school rankings, we should be tracking whether our young people are developing the capabilities they actually need: ecological thinking, cultural fluency, digital wisdom, creative problem-solving, collective leadership, and adaptive resilience – alongside foundational literacy and numeracy.
I received a number of positive responses to this vision. But several also asked the harder question: “This sounds great, but what would it actually take to make it happen? We can’t just add more expectations onto an already overwhelmed system.”
You’re absolutely right. And here’s the uncomfortable truth that needs to be said clearly:
We cannot measure broader success without investing in the conditions that make it achievable.
Changing what we measure without changing what we resource is performative at best, cynical at worst. If we’re serious about developing these capabilities in our young people, then government must make sustained investment in the infrastructure that enables this work.
This isn’t about asking for more of everything. It’s about being honest about what’s required and making strategic choices about where investment matters most. Here are some specific areas for targeted investment that I believe would make the difference:
1. Teacher Professional Learning and Development
Teachers are the key lever for system performance. Yet we’ve allowed both pre-service teacher education and ongoing professional development to decline significantly. If we want teachers to develop sophisticated capabilities in their students, they need sustained, high-quality professional learning that goes far beyond compliance training or one-off workshops.
This means:
Substantial, protected time for collaborative professional inquiry
Access to deep disciplinary and pedagogical expertise
Long-term professional learning programmes, not short-term projects
Investment in teacher educators and the quality of initial teacher education
The current reality is that most professional learning is fragmented, under-resourced, and squeezed into whatever time teachers can find around their already full teaching loads. We ask teachers to transform their practice while giving them neither the time nor the support to do so. This is neither fair nor effective.
2. Leadership Development
School leadership has become an almost impossibly complex task – balancing property management, financial oversight, community engagement, staff development, and educational leadership. We need systematic investment in developing leaders who can navigate this complexity while keeping learning at the centre.
This means:
Comprehensive leadership preparation programmes
Ongoing leadership development throughout careers, not just at appointment
Networks and communities of practice for peer support
Succession planning and distributed leadership models
Currently, we promote excellent teachers into leadership roles with minimal preparation, expect them to figure it out as they go, and wonder why so many burn out or leave the profession. This is wasteful of both talent and public investment.
3. Support for Learning Diversity
Investment in supporting students with additional learning needs has been inconsistent and insufficient. Every time this funding is reduced or made more restrictive, we undermine both equity and system performance. All students deserve access to learning, regardless of their starting point or support needs.
This means:
Adequate resourcing for learning support coordinators and specialists
Early intervention support that prevents later difficulties
Professional development for all teachers in differentiated instruction and Universal Design for Learning
Wrap-around services that address barriers to learning
Specialist expertise available when and where it’s needed
The consequence of under-resourcing learning support is not just that vulnerable students fall further behind – it’s that teachers become overwhelmed trying to meet diverse needs without adequate support, and the quality of learning for all students suffers. Worse, it seems to me, is the current ‘one size fits all’ emphasis in the design of our curriculum and pedagogical approach is further exacerbating these concerns and further disadvantaging those who need this support the most.
4. Resourcing for Cultural Diversity and Responsiveness
Our increasingly diverse student population requires intentional investment in cultural responsiveness. Te Tiriti o Waitangi establishes foundational obligations for honoring te reo Māori and mātauranga Māori, but cultural diversity extends far beyond this. We now have significant numbers of students from refugee and migrant communities, each bringing rich cultural knowledge and perspectives – and often significant challenges related to resettlement, language acquisition, and trauma.
Critically, schools cannot address these challenges alone. Cultural responsiveness and equity for diverse communities require coordinated investment across health, housing, welfare, resettlement services, and employment. When we measure school success in these areas, we must account for the presence or absence of these wider supports. A school serving a community with inadequate housing, limited health services, and poor employment prospects cannot be held to the same accountability standards as one where these systems are functioning well.
This means:
Adequate numbers of qualified te reo Māori teachers and cultural advisors
ESOL specialists and culturally appropriate learning support
Professional learning for all teachers in culturally responsive and sustaining pedagogies
Resources and time for genuine partnership with mana whenua and diverse communities
Support for maintaining and strengthening heritage languages
Coordinated, wrap-around services connecting education with health, housing, welfare, and employment support
Recognition that cultural responsiveness isn’t an add-on but fundamental to quality teaching
Measures of system success that account for the broader social infrastructure supporting (or failing to support) diverse communities
The Pattern of Stop-Start Investment
Perhaps most damaging is the pattern of governments treating these as discretionary investments that come and go with political priorities, rather than as essential infrastructure for system performance.
When professional learning funding is cut, teachers struggle to develop new practices. When leadership development is deprioritised, we lose experienced leaders and fail to prepare new ones. When learning support is restricted, vulnerable students fall further behind and teacher workload becomes unsustainable. When cultural responsiveness is treated as optional, we fail our Treaty obligations and lose the rich contributions diverse perspectives bring to learning.
Each cycle of reduced investment creates problems that take years to repair – and we never fully recover before the next cut comes.
This creates a particularly pernicious dynamic: governments announce new initiatives and higher expectations, but without the sustained investment needed to build capacity. Teachers and school leaders work heroically to implement changes with inadequate support. When the inevitable shortfalls emerge, the narrative becomes “schools aren’t performing” rather than “we didn’t resource the conditions for success.” This cycle erodes trust, exhausts the profession, and ultimately harms students.
What Sustained Investment Would Look Like
If we’re serious about broader measures of success, we need sustained investment that:
Is protected across electoral cycles, not subject to short-term political whim. Professional learning, leadership development, learning support, and cultural responsiveness should be treated as essential infrastructure with multi-year funding commitments that survive changes in government.
Is evaluated based on long-term impact, not immediate outputs. Building teacher expertise takes years, not months. Developing culturally responsive practice is ongoing work, not a one-off training. We need evaluation frameworks that recognize this and avoid the tyranny of annual reporting cycles that favour quick wins over sustainable change.
Recognizes that capability development in students requires capability development in teachers. You cannot expect teachers to develop ecological thinking, digital wisdom, or adaptive resilience in their students if they haven’t had opportunities to develop these capabilities themselves through well-designed professional learning.
Treats professional learning, leadership, learning support, and cultural responsiveness as essential infrastructure, not optional extras. These aren’t things we fund when budgets allow and cut when times are tight. They’re the foundation that makes everything else possible.
Coordinates across sectors to address challenges schools cannot solve alone. This particularly applies to equity and cultural diversity, where educational outcomes are deeply affected by housing, health, welfare, and employment systems. Whole-of-government approaches aren’t a luxury—they’re a necessity.
The Accountability-Investment Link
Here’s the principle that should govern all of this:
You cannot hold the system accountable for outcomes you haven’t resourced it to achieve.
If you measure cultural fluency but don’t fund professional learning for culturally responsive pedagogy, that’s not accountability – it’s blame-shifting.
If you track adaptive resilience but don’t resource pastoral care and mental health support, that’s not evaluation – setting schools up to fail.
If you hold schools accountable for equity but don’t provide adequate learning support or coordinate with other social services, that’s not system improvement – it’s punishing schools for problems they cannot solve alone.
Real accountability requires matching expectations with investment. It requires recognizing that schools cannot succeed in isolation from other social systems. It requires sustained commitment rather than stop-start funding based on political cycles.
A Direct Question for Decision-Makers
For those who hold power over budget allocations and policy priorities, I want to pose this question directly:
Are you prepared to make the sustained investments required to achieve the broader measures of success you claim to want?
Not symbolic investments. Not pilot projects that get abandoned when the political winds shift. Not initiatives announced with fanfare but under-resourced from the start.
Sustained, adequate, protected investment in:
Teacher professional learning and initial teacher education
Leadership development and support
Learning support for all students who need it
Cultural responsiveness and partnership infrastructure
Cross-sector coordination for equity
If the answer is yes, then let’s work together to design those investments well and commit to them for the long term.
If the answer is no – if you’re not prepared to make those investments – then please have the honesty to stop announcing new expectations and adding to the accountability frameworks. The profession deserves better than being set up to fail.
What Educators Can Do
Even without government commitment, there are things educators and school leaders can do to advocate for and make better use of the investment that does exist:
Name the gaps clearly. When you lack the resources to implement expectations, say so explicitly. Don’t quietly struggle and absorb the pressure. Document what you could achieve with adequate professional learning time, with sufficient learning support, with proper cultural responsiveness resources. Make the connection between under-investment and outcomes visible.
Share the costs of under-investment. When learning support is inadequate, track the impact – not just on struggling students, but on teacher workload, on the quality of learning for all students, on staff retention. When professional learning is insufficient, document what practices you cannot implement well and why. These stories make the case for investment.
Pool resources strategically. Where you can, work with other schools to share costs for specialist expertise, professional learning, or cultural advisors. This won’t replace the need for system-level investment, but it can amplify what you do have and demonstrate what’s possible with adequate resourcing.
Advocate collectively. Individual schools asking for more resources are easily dismissed. Professional associations, Communities of Learning, regional networks speaking with one voice about investment priorities are harder to ignore. Use your collective voice to make the case for sustained investment in the infrastructure that enables the work.
An Investment Framework, Not Just a Wish List
This isn’t about asking for unlimited resources. It’s about being clear on what’s required for the success we claim to want.
If we want broader measures of success – if we want young people who are ecologically literate, culturally fluent, digitally wise, creative problem-solvers, collaborative leaders, and adaptively resilient – then we need to invest in the conditions that make this possible.
That means sustained investment in teacher capability, leadership capacity, learning support, cultural responsiveness, and cross-sector coordination.
Without this investment, broader measures of success become just another way to document failure rather than drive improvement.
With this investment, we can build the system our young people deserve.
What’s your experience with the pattern of stop-start investment? Where have you seen adequate resourcing make a genuine difference? Where has under-investment undermined even the best intentions?
The comment section is open. The conversation continues.
In my next post, I’ll explore the question of governance and decision-making: once we’ve agreed on what to measure and committed to resourcing it adequately, who should hold which decisions to make success achievable? How do we balance local autonomy with system coherence? Stay tuned for Post 3 in this series.
This post builds on Rethinking System Success in Education, where I argued for expanding our definition of educational success beyond test scores to include the capabilities young people actually need.
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Rethinking System Success in Education
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Leading up to and over the Christmas break, my social media feeds were inundated with short video messages from government politicians, including our Minister of Education, celebrating the ‘success’ of their policy implementations – with convincing data to support these claims. It’s an extremely effective strategy: short sound bites, convincing data, emphatic claims of success.
But what if there’s more to the story?
What Are We Really Preparing Our Young People For?
Over the Christmas period I spent time with my six grandchildren. My eldest grandsons head to university this year and will be eligible to vote in the next election. They’ve been reading and asking questions – not simply about the political process, but about the issues being debated and their potential impact on their lives in 10, 20, 50 years.
Watching them navigate these conversations made me ask: What does success really mean for their generation?
My grandchildren are fortunate. They’ve benefited from supportive schooling and families where education is valued. None have yet achieved standout recognition like dux or first in class – but they inherently know they can be successful because of the foundations laid and their sense of self-worth and character that equips them to embrace opportunities and face challenges.
But here’s what struck me most: when I think about what I hope education gives them, I don’t think first about their NCEA grades or university entrance scores. I think about whether they’ll have the resilience, critical thinking, and collaborative capability to address the climate crisis, rebuild democratic institutions, and create more equitable communities. I think about whether they’ll be equipped not just to earn a living, but to participate in solving the problems our generation has left them.
And I wonder: Are our current measures of system success capturing any of that?
The Economic Argument – And Why It’s Not Enough
Let’s be clear: I’m not dismissing the importance of preparing young people for future employment and economic participation. Workforce productivity matters. Return on investment in education matters. Literacy and numeracy matter absolutely.
But we need to acknowledge something uncomfortable: the economic paradigm that has driven educational policy for the past three decades – growth at all costs, global competitiveness, individual achievement – is reaching the point of being unsustainable.
The same thinking that created our current challenges cannot solve them. Climate breakdown, rising inequality, democratic fragility, mental health crises – these aren’t problems that will be solved by slightly higher PISA scores or marginal gains in literacy benchmarks. They require young people who can think systemically, collaborate across difference, adapt to uncertainty, and maintain wellbeing under pressure.
So yes, we need to prepare young people for economic participation. AND we need to prepare them to address the existential challenges we’ve created through our narrow focus on economic growth.
This isn’t idealism. It’s pragmatism. The economic costs of mental health crises, social fragmentation, environmental damage, and democratic dysfunction far outweigh any short-term gains from optimising for traditional metrics alone.
What the Rest of the World Is Measuring
If we’re serious about redefining success, it helps to know what’s already happening internationally. A recent review by New Zealand’s Education Review Office examined how multilateral organisations and various countries measure education system change.
The findings are worth noting:
What most systems emphasise:
Inputs and outputs (teacher qualifications, infrastructure, enrolment rates)
Administrative efficiency
Basic literacy and numeracy achievement
Participation rates
What most systems largely ignore:
Comprehensive learner outcomes beyond test scores
Social and emotional capabilities
Long-term wellbeing and civic engagement
Equity of outcomes (not just gaps in test scores)
Even among developed nations, there’s enormous variation. Finland created a comprehensive map of their entire education system in 1999, evaluating it against efficiency, effectiveness, and economy (as noted in the ERO 2021 review). Scotland centres their National Improvement Framework on the child, tracking progress across six key improvement drivers. (also noted in the ERO 2021 review) But these are exceptions.
Most countries, including New Zealand, have fragmented approaches – monitoring what’s convenient rather than what’s crucial.
Four Dimensions of Success: What We Should Be Measuring
Several years ago I proposed a framework for thinking about success in education that moves beyond narrow metrics. It distinguishes four dimensions, each requiring different approaches to measurement. I’ve re-created and updated the table here to explain what each dimension is about, what measures can be used and what the limitations are or might be when we use them:
The Risk of Imbalance
Here’s the crucial point: Most schools, regions, and nations already use a combination of these approaches, but with vastly different emphases.
An over-emphasis on skills and knowledge at the expense of capabilities and social action produces young people unprepared for the challenges ahead. They may read fluently and calculate accurately, but lack resilience, struggle with ambiguity, and feel powerless to effect change.
Conversely, a focus on social action without ensuring foundational skills means students may have well-developed social consciousness but lack the capabilities to act on it effectively.
We need all four dimensions. The question is: Do our current measures of system success reflect that?
What Would Real Progress Look Like?
Here’s where I want to get provocative. We need to stop pretending that raising reading scores by two percentage points constitutes system success when the gap between our highest and lowest achieving students remains a chasm. We need to stop measuring what’s easy and start measuring what’s important.
Real progress means…
Yes, building strong foundations in literacy and numeracy – absolutely. No one is arguing otherwise.
But also:
Actively reducing inequities rather than simply lamenting them
Developing genuine agency in learning – students who can articulate their goals and navigate their own progress
Building collaborative capability – the ability to work effectively with others different from themselves
Fostering critical and creative thinking that transfers across contexts
Cultivating resilience and wellbeing – strategies for managing pressure and seeking support when needed
Developing civic capability – understanding how to participate in democratic processes and address community issues
When educational researcher Cathy Wylie described her hopes for her grandchildren’s education in a recent conversation, she didn’t talk about benchmark scores. She talked about learning that is “engrossing,” about students feeling “the world is expanding around them and their own sense of who they are is deepening.”
That’s not fuzzy thinking. That’s what success looks like when you’re designing for human flourishing rather than system compliance.
What Can We Measure? What Should We Track?
I’m not suggesting we abandon all traditional metrics. Literacy and numeracy proficiency remain foundational. But we need to expand our definition of system success to include the capabilities young people actually need.
Earlier this year, we brought together educators from across New Zealand at the EdRising Convening to identify the future-focused capabilities essential for thriving in an interconnected, rapidly changing world. Through extensive consultation and synthesis, we developed a framework that moves beyond traditional subject-based learning while maintaining the essential foundation of disciplinary knowledge. These six capabilities offer a practical starting point for what broader success could look like:
Ecological Thinking The ability to see and understand interconnected relationships between all living and non-living systems. In an era of climate change and resource depletion, young people need to make decisions that account for long-term consequences and work with natural and social systems rather than against them.
What we could track: Can students trace connections between natural systems, human societies, and economic structures? Do they consider systems-level impacts when solving problems? Are they developing regenerative approaches to challenges?
Cultural Fluency The ability to navigate, understand, and contribute meaningfully across different cultural contexts with respect and authenticity. In Aotearoa, this is grounded in Te Tiriti o Waitangi principles, with particular emphasis on understanding te ao Māori as the foundational indigenous worldview.
What we could track: Do students engage respectfully across cultural boundaries? Can they draw on diverse knowledge systems for problem-solving? Are they developing genuine partnership capabilities?
Digital Wisdom Beyond digital literacy—the thoughtful, ethical, and purposeful use of technology in ways that enhance rather than diminish human potential and connection. This includes understanding how digital systems work, critically evaluating information, and maintaining human agency.
What we could track: Can students make informed decisions about technology use? Do they understand how algorithms and digital economics affect their lives? Are they creating with technology while maintaining authentic relationships?
Creative Problem-Solving The ability to approach challenges with curiosity, imagination, and innovative thinking. This includes comfort with ambiguity, willingness to experiment, and confidence to pursue unconventional ideas—essential for addressing problems that don’t have predetermined solutions.
What we could track: Can students define problems in new ways? Do they generate multiple possible solutions? Are they comfortable with uncertainty and iteration?
Collective Agency and Leadership The ability to create positive change through collaboration, service, and shared power. This emphasises leading through service and developing others’ leadership potential rather than commanding from hierarchy.
What we could track: Can students facilitate groups and build consensus? Do they empower others to lead? Are they developing skills for collective action and democratic participation?
Adaptive Resilience The ability to not just bounce back from challenges, but to grow stronger through difficulty while maintaining wellbeing and purpose. This includes emotional regulation, learning agility, and the capacity to navigate uncertainty with confidence.
What we could track: Do students have strategies for managing stress and setback? Can they adjust goals as circumstances change? Are they building strong support systems and maintaining hope in challenging times?
Importantly, these capabilities aren’t developed in a vacuum – they’re cultivated through deep engagement with rich content from diverse disciplines. Mathematics provides logical reasoning and pattern recognition. Sciences offer systematic inquiry methods. Humanities contribute critical analysis and historical perspective. The arts develop creative expression. The goal isn’t to replace content with capabilities, but to ensure content is learned and applied in ways that develop these future-focused capacities.
At the system level, we should also track:
Equity of outcomes across all measures (not just test score gaps)
Teacher collaboration and professional learning time
Whānau and community partnership quality
Resource allocation based on genuine need
Stability and coherence of policy direction
Infrastructure for collective improvement
Some of these can be measured through student surveys and self-assessment, portfolios of authentic work demonstrating capability development, teacher observations over time, community feedback on partnerships and outcomes, and longitudinal tracking of student pathways and wellbeing. None are as simple as a standardised test – but all are more meaningful and more aligned with what our young people actually need.
Two Questions That Matter
Whether you’re a politician, policy-maker, school board member, principal, or teacher, I want to pose two questions that cut to the heart of this:
1. If our measures of progress improved tomorrow, what would actually look and feel different for learners, whānau, and teachers?
Would students arrive at school with more curiosity and leave with more confidence? Would whānau feel genuinely welcomed as partners in learning rather than consumers of a service? Would teachers spend less time justifying their practice through paperwork and more time actually collaborating to improve it?
If your answer is “not much,” then we’re measuring the wrong things.
2. What would we stop doing if we were serious about that broader picture of success?
Would we stop ranking schools against each other? Stop fragmenting the curriculum into atomized skills divorced from meaning? Stop asking teachers to implement yet another initiative without the time and support to do it well?
These aren’t rhetorical questions. They’re design questions.
Because if we can articulate what genuinely better looks like—and what we’d need to let go of to get there—we can start building the kind of system that serves all our children, not just the ones who’ve always succeeded despite the system’s limitations.
What This Means for You
The question of how we measure system success matters profoundly because it determines where we direct our energy, resources, and reform efforts.
Get the measures right, and we create conditions for genuine, equitable improvement that prepares young people for the world they’ll actually inherit.
Get them wrong, and we risk decades of well-intentioned effort that optimises for the wrong outcomes – leaving our most vulnerable students no better off, and leaving all our young people underprepared for the challenges ahead.
My grandchildren are asking questions about the future they’ll shape. The least we can do is ensure our education system is measuring whether we’re actually preparing them to answer those questions with capability, confidence, and care.
What do you believe we should be measuring? Where would you draw the line between what’s necessary and what’s sufficient?
The comment section below is open. The conversation continues.
In my next post, I’ll tackle the harder question: What investment does this broader vision of success actually require? We can’t just add new expectations onto an already overwhelmed system – we need to be honest about what sustained investment in teacher professional learning, leadership development, learning support, and cultural responsiveness would actually look like. And we need to stop the destructive pattern of stop-start funding that undermines even our best intentions.
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Building trust, avoiding polarisation
A conversation with Bali Haque about keeping things simple and focusing on what’s important for the future of education.
With NCEA results becoming available this week I thought it appropriate to that my first post for 2026 would be with the third of my series on ‘conversations on the future of education‘ where I had the privilege of sitting down with Bali Haque. Bali’s extensive career spans multiple principalships, work with NZQA on the development of NCEA, leadership of the Tomorrow’s Schools review, and three terms in local government. Our conversation ranged across the evolution of New Zealand’s education system, but what emerged most powerfully were insights about the future we need to build – and the tensions that prevent us from getting there.
The Original Vision: Flexibility and Trust
As we began our conversation, Bali took me back to the conceptual foundations of NCEA, reminding me that the original vision was remarkably future-focused. The idea was a national framework based on unit standards with no artificial distinction between “vocational” and “academic” pathways. Schools would build appropriate programmes, there would be trust in professional judgment, and students would emerge with records of learning that demonstrated genuine achievement.
The flexibility was key. As Bali noted, “it was perfectly reasonable to go down a pathway where you do a vocational based course, but come out with a record of learning which is as valuable as somebody doing the traditional curriculum based subjects.” This wasn’t about the content alone – it was about recognising that how we learn matters as much as what we learn.
His example of outdoor education resonated deeply with my own background as an outdoor ed teacher – it’s not so much about preparing students for careers in the outdoors as it is about building confidence, resilience, collaboration, problem solving etc – all of the skills identified as being essential to succeed in our modern, constantly changing world.
The Problem with One-Size-Fits-All
What struck me most forcefully in our conversation was Bali’s frustration with current approaches that “fly in the face of what we know about good teaching and learning.” He returned repeatedly to the theory of constructivism – the idea that effective teaching starts with where the child is and builds from there.
The current shift toward prescriptive, centralised control represents what Bali called “de-professionalizing our teachers” – treating New Zealand as though we’re “a country that’s starting an education system where you need to say this is what you need to teach, this is when you teach it, this is how you teach it.“
His warning is sobering: “in five or 10 or 15 years, we are going to be in a position I suspect where teaching workforce is going to be more challenged than it is now because we’re not doing the literacy or the science of this the right way.“
The Literacy Paradox
Bali shared a fascinating case study about literacy assessment in NCEA that speaks directly to how we might think differently about measuring success. When he was with NZQA, they proposed identifying six to ten achievement standards across various subjects – geography, history, outdoor education – that would demonstrate literacy competency. Students would prove their literacy through authentic achievement in rich contexts.
The Ministry transformed this into hundreds of standards, “torpedoed the whole idea,” Bali said, “and we’ve ended up instead with a testing regime.” He went on to say, “if we’re interested in literacy and numeracy, we should be looking at the outcomes across the curriculum… rather than pulling through a testing regime.“
This speaks to a fundamental question for future-focused education: Do we want to measure discrete skills in isolation, or do we want to see competencies demonstrated in meaningful contexts?
System Over Islands
Perhaps the most important insight for thinking about educational futures is Bali’s emphasis on system-ness over autonomy. HIs view is that the Tomorrow’s Schools model created “two and a half thousand islands of autonomy,” and while the principle of subsidiarity has merit, the reality has been fragmentation.
Bali quotes a 2016 State Services Commission report that found that “the adoption of good practice almost always referred to as patchy… and the uptake of promising innovation is seen as slow to spread across the system.” This is the cost of isolation – successful practices remain trapped in individual schools rather than enriching the whole system.
Bali’s anecdote about the Auckland principal asking “what will I have to give up?” captures the mindset we need to move beyond. Future-focused education requires us to think collectively about what serves all learners, not what protects individual institutional interests.
The Leadership Imperative
When I asked Bali what would characterise a fit-for-purpose future system, he was unequivocal: school leadership is key. Not just principals leading their own schools, but regional leadership that understands “what’s happening in every school” – people with the skills to support and connect rather than simply manage.
This connects to his point about schools needing to be integrated into communities with support services wrapped around them, particularly for schools facing socioeconomic challenges. Education happens in context, not in sanitised isolation.
Trust and Polarisation
One of Bali’s most striking observations was about the polarisation created by our system’s structure. Higher-decile schools, he noted, “have much more clout and influence than the lower decile schools and influence the politicians massively.” He observed that when policy changes are made – such as tightening grade boundaries – it’s often the schools serving more disadvantaged communities that bear the brunt, while advantaged schools continue to thrive. The irony? “The higher decile schools are the ones that are responsible for this so-called grade inflation… those are the very schools that are complaining about grade inflation.“
A Message for Parents
Bali’s message to parents navigating current debates is both cautious and hopeful: “It is much more complicated than it sounds and beware of data which is problematic at best.” But he also reminds us that “fundamentally, our schools still are doing generally a good job and many parents think that.” The challenge is to look beyond simplistic solutions and quick wins, to resist the appeal of easy answers, and to stay focused on what genuinely prepares young people for futures we cannot fully predict.
What emerged from this conversation is a vision of education that is:
Flexible in pathways and recognition of diverse learning
Professional in trusting teachers to exercise judgment
Connected through strong leadership and collaboration
Authentic in how we assess and value learning
Equitable in serving all communities, not just the advantaged
Complex in acknowledging that good education cannot be reduced to simple formulas
As Bali put it with characteristic directness: “Let’s just train good teachers. Let’s focus on leadership of schools and the system. Let’s provide a flexible curriculum, which enables teachers to do that constructivism thing. And magic will happen.“
The question is whether we have the courage to embrace that complexity rather than retreat to the false comfort of simplistic solutions.
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What others say
The Learning Environments Australasia Executive Committee has received a lot of positive feedback, which is greatly due to your wealth of knowledge and information you imparted on our large audience, your presentation has inspired a range of educators, architects and facility planners and for this we are grateful.
Daniel SmithChair Learning Environments Australasia
Derek and Maurie complement each other well and have the same drive and passion for a future education system that is so worthwhile being part of. Their presentation and facilitation is at the same time friendly and personal while still incredibly professional. I am truly grateful to have had this experience alongside amazing passionate educators and am inspired to re visit all aspects of my leadership. I have a renewed passion for our work as educational leaders.
Karyn GrayPrincipal, Raphael House Rudolf Steiner
I was in desperate need of a programme like this. This gave me the opportunity to participate in a transformative journey of professional learning and wellbeing, where I rediscovered my passion, reignited my purpose, and reconnected with my vision for leading in education. Together, we got to nurture not just academic excellence, but also the holistic wellbeing of our school communities. Because when we thrive, so does the entire educational ecosystem.
Tara QuinneyPrincipal, St Peter's College, Gore
Refresh, Reconnect, Refocus is the perfect title for this professional development. It does just that. A fantastic retreat, space to think, relax and start to reconnect. Derek and Maurie deliver a balance of knowledge and questioning that gives you time to think about your leadership and where to next. Both facilitators have the experience, understanding, connection and passion for education, this has inspired me to really look at the why for me!
Jan McDonaldPrincipal, Birkdale North School
Engaged, passionate, well informed facilitators who seamlessly worked together to deliver and outstanding programme of thought provoking leadership learning.
Dyane StokesPrincipal, Paparoa Street School
A useful and timely call to action. A great chance to slow down, reflect on what really drives you, and refocus on how to get there. Wonderful conversations, great connections, positive pathways forward.
Ursula CunninghamPrincipal, Amesbury School
RRR is a standout for quality professional learning for Principals. Having been an education PLD junkie for 40 years I have never before attended a programme that has challenged me as much because of its rigor, has satisfied me as much because of its depth or excited me as much because of realising my capacity to lead change. Derek and Maurie are truly inspiring pedagogical, authentic leadership experts who generously and expertly share their passion, wisdom and skills to help Principal's to focus on what is important in schools and be the best leader they can be.
Cindy SullivanPrincipal, Kaipara College
Derek Wenmoth is brilliant. Derek connects powerful ideas forecasting the future of learning to re-imagine education and create resources for future-focused practices and policies to drive change. His work provides guidance and tools for shifting to new learning ecosystems through innovations with a focus on purpose, equity, learner agency, and lifelong learning. His work is comprehensive and brings together research and best practices to advance the future of teaching and learning. His passion, commitment to innovation for equity and the range of practical, policy and strategic advice are exceptional.
Susan Patrick, CEO, Aurora Institute
I asked Derek to work with our teachers to reenergise our team back into our journey towards our vision after the two years of being in and out of 'Covid-ness'. Teachers reported positively about the day with Derek, commenting on how affirmed they felt that our vision is future focused. Teachers expressed excitement with their new learning towards the vision, and I've noticed a palpable energy since the day. Derek also started preparing our thinking for hybrid learning, helping us all to feel a sense of creativity rather than uncertainty. The leadership team is keen to see him return!
Kate Christie | Principal | Cashmere Ave School
Derek has supported, informed and inspired a core group of our teachers to be effective leads in our college for NPDL. Derek’s PLD is expertly targeted to our needs.
Marion Lumley | Deputy Principal |Ōtaki College
What a task we set Derek - to facilitate a shared vision and strategy with our Board and the professional and admin teams (14 of us), during a Covid lockdown, using online technology. Derek’s expertise, skilled questioning, strategic facilitation and humour enabled us to work with creative energy for 6 hours using a range of well-timed online activities. He kept us focussed on creating and achieving a shared understanding of our future strategic plan. Derek’s future focussed skills combined with an understanding of strategy and the education sector made our follow up conversations invaluable. Furthermore, we will definitely look to engage Derek for future strategic planning work.
Sue Vaealiki, Chair of Stonefields Collaborative Trust
Our Principal PLG has worked with Derek several times now, and will continue to do so. Derek is essentially a master facilitator/mentor...bringing the right level of challenge, new ideas & research to deepen your thinking, but it comes with the level of support needed to feel engaged, enriched and empowered after working with him.
Gareth Sinton, Principal, Douglas Park School
Derek is a highly knowledgeable and inspirational professional learning provider that has been guiding our staff in the development of New Pedagogies’ for Deep Learning. His ability to gauge where staff are at and use this to guide next steps has been critical in seeing staff buy into this processes and have a strong desire to build in their professional practice.