Navigating the Pedagogical Pendulum

In staffrooms across Aotearoa, the low hum of teachers trying to make sense of another wave of change is impossible to miss. On one side sits Te Mātaiaho, the curriculum refresh promising a richer, more inclusive vision for learning. On the other hand, the structured literacy and mathematics mandates prescribe exactly how core skills must be taught. Both make sense on paper, both are backed by research, yet the risk is clear: embracing one without integrating it with the other could solve one problem while quietly creating another.

It’s a familiar story. New Zealand education has a history of pendulum swings — from rigid National Standards to modern learning environments, from whole language to phonics, from content-heavy to skills-only approaches. Each shift began with the best intentions, but when the swing went too far, gaps appeared, and the next reform had to swing us back.

Today, the pendulum is in motion again. Te Mātaiaho’s Understand, Know, Do framework aims to make learning intentional and coherent, while allowing schools to reflect their communities. Alongside it, structured literacy arrives with urgency: from Term 1 next year, every junior class will teach phonics explicitly, step-by-step, with constant checking for understanding — a direct response to troubling literacy statistics.

The Ministry says these reforms align, but in classrooms it can feel different. One policy urges co-design with the community; the other dictates a specific method for every learner. Without careful integration, schools risk siloed approaches: structured literacy as a junior-level compliance task, inquiry as business-as-usual elsewhere.

Framing the debate as explicit instruction versus inquiry learning is a false choice. Explicit teaching is efficient, builds strong foundations, and supports struggling learners. But overuse can make learning mechanical. Inquiry fosters depth, authenticity, and problem-solving, but without prior knowledge, students can flounder.

The best teachers blend the two, sequencing learning so skills and knowledge gained through explicit teaching are deepened and applied through inquiry. It’s the gradual release of responsibility in action: I do, we do, you do. First the ingredients, then the recipe, then the feast.

The real power lies not in policy, but in teacher expertise. Skilled kaiako read the room, interpret the data, and choose the right approach for the moment. Teaching as Inquiry supports this, asking: “What do these learners need right now? What’s the best approach? Did it work, and how do I know?”

Lean too heavily on structure, and the curriculum narrows. Opportunities for creativity shrink. Reading becomes an end in itself, not a gateway to richer learning. A child who can decode but never encounters meaningful texts is no better equipped than one who can’t read at all.

The schools getting it right weave the two approaches together so literacy is embedded in engaging, relevant learning. For leaders, the challenge is to make integration the norm by setting a clear vision, aligning professional learning, and protecting collaborative planning time. For teachers, it’s about rejecting the “either/or” mindset, sequencing with purpose, listening to student voice, and ensuring every lesson — phonics or inquiry — is culturally connected.

In Aotearoa, cultural responsiveness isn’t optional. Explicit teaching works best when it affirms a learner’s identity. Inquiry goes deepest when grounded in students’ place, whānau, and whakapapa. The framework gives us structure; culture gives it meaning.

This is not about choosing the “right” reform, but about ensuring neither becomes the whole story. Structured literacy is an essential part of the journey, but it’s not the destination. Pair it with rich, authentic inquiry, grounded in our learners’ realities, and we give them both the tools to learn and the reasons to use them.

If we get this balance right, perhaps the pendulum will stop swinging wildly — and education can move forward with purpose, free from political tug-of-war, in the best interests of all our students.