Our mātaamua as a wee girl was such a precocious thing, full of life and energy and stubborn to boot. People would arrive, and she would do the karanga to bring visitors into the house. She loved to dance and sing and was a mother hen to her younger brothers. She would run away down an aisle in the supermarket and talk to strangers and I would find her at the main counter with an adult, chatting away. She had these big eyes that barely blinked and she just wanted to be a part of the action. Her father and I worked hard to speak Māori to her, and she followed along, and it was her first language.
I decided to take her to a paediatrician to get tests and she was diagnosed with dyslexia, but that diagnosis never really helped because, ultimately, I learned she needed a different approach to education. I remember sitting with her and the paediatrician in tears and he gave me one piece of advice that I took away and followed; he said, if she is good at dancing and singing — she was in tap dancing and singing lessons at that point — make sure you keep her in those extracurricular activities, because school will be a challenge and she needs to experience success. So that’s what I did, I put my energy into extracurricular experiences for her and focused less on school as a platform for success.
In her intermediate years we felt like she needed a change and Tahu really pushed this with me, so we essentially shopped around for a school for her. His one rule was he wanted to speak to the principal. There were some schools where we couldn’t meet with the principal, so he said – "well she isn’t going to that school". Finally, the last school we went to was Columba College and yes, I will admit I didn’t feel a natural affinity to that school. However, we met with the principal at the time and something quite remarkable happened — she lent forward to our girl and asked her, “what can you bring to our school?”, and our girl tentatively told her what she thought she was good at, and her eyes lit up because the teacher was interested in what she had to offer. Her experience at Columba was pivotal for her and I. One of the most powerful factors that I noticed immediately was that Ripeka was treated as if she was the highest common denominator. She was put into a strict routine with high expectations and a belief in her that she could reach those or at least try ... and somewhere in our girl’s mind that is exactly what happened, high expectations went hand in hand with a self-belief that she could, and with strict parameter,s her writing and comprehension was honed.
I won’t say it was an easy journey, because it wasn’t, but I can’t thank the school enough for instilling a confidence in our girl and being there for her when her Pāpā died.
I felt my girl was ready to go to Queen’s High School in year 10 and I didn’t really ask her, I got the uniform and the rest was history. It was a quick adjustment for her and culturally a beautiful fit. I am biased, but rightly so, as I believe Queen’s is a wonderful school for many reasons and it really comes down to great leadership, a varied demographic of wealth to hardship and everything in between, a variety of cultures and experiences, a bit of mongrel, but also a spirit that “once a Queen’s girl, always a Queen’s girl".
Ripeka went into that school well prepared from Columba and it provided for her, it filled her cup, gave her opportunities and a platform to be a strong wahine Māori. She was supported by her familial kapa haka and te reo tutors, helped by having her cousins there and the platform to grow and perform was deliberately paved with hurdles, as she wasn’t going to be given leadership on a plate. Her learning was shaped and moulded by all these experiences, and Columba had given her the confidence academically. She believed that she was capable, and she understood that her brain works a little differently to others and she re-wired herself to achieve ... and not necessarily in a linear academic way, but achievement is seeing her confident and ready to take on the world.
I wanted to share this because I know that there will be parents who are worried about their child, and to let you know that there is no straight trajectory in education and that it sometimes requires a range of experiences for your child to fall and get back up and grow.
People sometimes comment to me that my girl is talented, but I want to conclude by saying she has had massive privilege in her life, with lessons and opportunities and imagine what we could create if every whānau was resourced to do the same.
Our girl did this high school journey without her Pāpā and I know that was lonely and challenging without him, but also awe-inspiring and as we know, very few things in this life come easy.
So to all graduates of high school, make the most of the next chapter, whatever that may be, be good to yourself and be good to others — the trainer wheels are off, e rere.
- Megan Ellison
