By Gabrielle Ahuliʻi Ferreira Holt

“E ka lālā i naʻauao la kuaʻua/Hoʻonuʻu iho a kū kahauli”

“Whose learning flows like a stream/Eager these to be honored men”

-Lines from a mele originally published in Ke Au ʻOkoʻa.  May 6, 1869 

“As a society becomes more enlightened, it realizes that it is responsible not to conserve and transmit the whole of its existing achievements, but only such as to make for a better future society. The school is its chief agency for the accomplishment of this end.”

-John Dewey, Democracy & Education, 1916

“The Lorrin Andrews dictionary, published in 1865 when the Hawaiian language was thriving, contains no Hawaiian counterpart for the word ‘traditional’...a century later, the phrase ‘mai nā kupuna mai’ is used to describe the word ‘traditional.’ I interpret the phrase ‘mai nā kupuna maiʻ as what comes from the ancestors into this time…conceptually, mai nā kupuna mai can be interpreted to mean that as generations pass, more knowledge can be passed down from the ancestors to the succeeding generations. The process is open-ended and collective; it is intergenerational and always expanding.”

- Kamanamaikalani Beamer,
No Mākou Ka Mana: Liberating the Nation, 2014.

Since the early 19th century, the progressive education movement has held significant space in the culture of Hawaiʻiʻs schools. This is not by coincidence or happenstance; the many intersections of progressive education principles and Native Hawaiian pedagogy and epistemology provided 19th century educators with a meaningful foundation with which to carry the burgeoning movement forward in the islands. By capitalizing on the intersections between Native Hawaiian (Kanaka Hawai'i) pedagogy, philosophy and epistemology, and the early (and current) principles of progressive education, educators in the Hawaiian islands were not only able to address the educational needs of their students in a culturally responsive and holistic way, but were also able to make meaningful contributions to the movement. Today, Hawai‘i is uniquely positioned to carry the progressive education movement forward, and can serve as an example of how we as educators can develop relationships with non-western pedagogies in order to better serve our students. In this article, I briefly explore the contributions of Kanaka Hawai'i educators to the movement as a whole, contextualize progressive education and what it means for Indigenous people, and outline the many intersections between Hawaiian pedagogy and progressive education that exist. 

The movement of progressive education in the islands arguably started in 1825, when Keaweaweʻula Kīwalaʻō Kauikeaouli Kaleiopapa, later known as Kamehameha III, ascended the throne. Kauikeaouli was inheriting a kingdom that was in a state of rapid change; Hawaiʻi as a unified kingdom was only 30 years old, and his older brother Kamehameha II had died in England of measles at the age of 26. The Native Hawaiian population had decreased dramatically due to the introduction of many communicable diseases, and the increasing presence of various outside religious and cultural influences created a shifting political and social landscape.

When Kauikeaouli assumed the throne and became Kamehameha III at eleven years old, he proclaimed, “He aupuni palapala koʻu; a ʻo ke kanaka pono a naʻauao, ʻo ia koʻu kanaka,” (“Mine is a kingdom of literacy; and the just and wise person is my countryman”). This guiding principle would lay the groundwork for one of his greatest legacies: the creation of a kingdom that was the most literate in the world. Kamehameha III’s pro-public schooling and education stance was integral to his policies as a leader; as Dr. Noelani Goodyear-Kaʻōpua (2016) asserts in her book The Seeds We Planted, Kamehameha III “established the kingdom as a constitutional monarchy in which literacy and an emergent national public school system became key features in forming and finalizing the modern Hawaiian state” (p. 16). 

Many Native Hawaiian superintendents and instructors contributed to this public schooling project in the Kingdom era of schools. Davida Malo, the Native Hawaiian anthropologist and scholar based out of Lahainaluna, emphasized the use of Hawaiian language in schools and advocated for Native Hawaiian teachers to be fairly compensated for their work. Mataio Kekūanāoʻa, an accomplished statesman who had served both Kamehameha I and his son, Kamehameha II, became the superintendent of schools for eight years, serving from 1860 until 1868. In his role, he advocated for the separation of the public schools system from the missionary school system of the time, and worked for adequate public funding for the schools.

In a previous blog post, Dr. Makaiau discussed the role that H.S. Townsend played in the adoption of progressive principles and scholarship in the Hawaiian school system, particularly in the years preceding the overthrow. Despite Townsend’s (and other educators’) commitment to progressive philosophies, the overthrow of the Hawaiian kingdom and the subsequent territory period  marked a clear turning point for schooling in Hawai‘i.  The years following the overthrow saw a shift away from the progressive philosophies that Kanaka Hawaiʻi and non-Kanaka Hawaiʻi educators were implementing in schools. Goodyear-Kaʻōpua explores this transition in great detail in her text; she outlines how the ideology of schooling changed from a focus on literacy and essential intellectual skills to an emphasis on “labor over literacy” (p. 21), erasing the great strides that Kanaka and non-Kanaka alike had made in instituting progressive principles in the Hawaiian unified school system.

If we look backward, we can begin to understand more deeply how progressive ideals were already aligned with Hawaiian philosophy and pedagogy. Perhaps we can also begin to understand how to further reclaim Hawaiian identity within progressive practices, and advocate for these principles in our school systems today.

Why Progressive Education for Indigenous Students? 

The question must be posed, however: Why progressive education for Indigenous students? To answer this question, I turn to Paulo Freire (1968) and his text Pedagogy of the Oppressed. He illustrates the difference between traditional methods and progressive methods by exploring what he terms the “banking method” of education - wherein teacher and student interact in an implicitly hierarchical relationship, the teacher “depositing” knowledge (or information, more accurately) into the student. Freire explains:

The more students work at storing the deposits entrusted to them, the less they develop the critical consciousness which would result from their intervention in the world as transformers of that world…The capability of banking education to minimize or annul the students’ creative power and to stimulate their credulity serves the interests of the oppressors, who care neither to have the world revealed or see it transformed. (1968, p. 73)

In this explanation, Freire makes clear that traditional Western methods of schooling will always divest students of their intellectual and political power. This is particularly relevant as we refer back to the shift that occurred in Hawaiian schools post-overthrow and the “labor over literacy” model. 

Freire goes on to say: “Implicit in the banking concept is the assumption of a dichotomy between human beings and the world: a person is merely in the world, not with the world or with others; the individual is spectator, not re-creator” (p. 75). This is particularly of note as we examine what it means to be a Native Hawaiian learner, whose genealogy includes the very land we exist in. When you are Hawaiian, it is impossible for you to experience a “dichotomy” between you and the world; to feel otherwise is to create an immediate dissonance, setting up the Hawaiian student for discomfort and misunderstanding in the classroom.

On the other hand, progressive principles embrace a holistic worldview, ensuring that our learning supports our own understanding and philosophy. What follows is a brief exploration of western progressive principles (Peters, 2018), and how they align or are “in conversation” with a Kanaka Hawaiʻi philosophy, pedagogy or worldview. My hope is that by outlining these intersections clearly, Kanaka Hawaiʻi educators feel empowered to embrace both progressive and Hawaiian philosophies, and that non-Kanaka Hawaiʻi educators have a deeper understanding of the contributions and influences that Native peoples have on education as a whole.

Aligning Western Progressive Education Principles with a Kanaka Hawai'i Worldview

Let us examine several progressive education principles and their alignment with Kanaka Hawai'i worldviews.

I. We Must Address and Teach to the Whole Person

Progressive educators recognize the individual child as the starting point of education. Progressive values and approaches that align with this include:

• Recognizing and valuing diversity (variation among children)

• Considering pacing, readiness, interests, experiences and child’s voice in decision-making 

• Accepting the way children learn and how they think

• Supporting the development of the whole child (social-emotional, physical, cognitive)

• Emphasizing continuous growth as the goal, rather than the subject matter benchmarks

The concept of ho‘oponopono in Hawaiian life is an often-cited one, but just as often overly simplified. In Mary Kawena Pukui, E.W. Haertig and Catherine A. Lee’s (1972) book Nānā I Ke Kumu, a large portion of the text is dedicated to the process of ho‘oponopono and its value in society. They explain:

Ho‘oponopono is getting the family together to find out what is wrong. Maybe to find out why someone is sick, or the cause of a family quarrel. Then, with discussion and repentance and restitution and forgiveness - and always with prayer - to set right what is wrong. (p. 61)

This process involved spiritual, mental and even physical work. Pukui, Haertig and Lee define the “problem” to be solved with a Hawaiian term - hihia. Hihia means an entanglement, an enmeshment; something to be uncovered, layer by layer. By using this term to define a complex problem, it illustrates the understanding Hawaiians had when examining conflict. When something needed to be addressed in a family, it was always treated from a holistic standpoint. Discussion, prayer, stating objectives for conflict resolution - these were all integral pieces of the ho‘oponopono process, and are all integral components of meaningful discussion and problem-solving in a progressive learning environment. 

We know that when a child approaches us with a challenge, or is demonstrating behaviors that present a challenge in school or at home, helping is always a complex process. The hihia must be untangled - we ask questions about their physical, social, emotional and intellectual needs. Hawaiian family leaders understand that problems have many facets - physical, spiritual, cognitive and emotional - therefore, the solutions must address the whole person. In the same way, progressive educators understand that education must teach to the whole person and address the child’s many needs.

II. We Learn Through Our Interactions with One Another and the World

When the first Pacific voyagers arrived in Hawai‘i, they did not land on “ʻāina”. While the word ʻāina is often translated simply as “land” or “that which feeds”, it is more complex than that. The first Pacific peoples arrived on moku (an island). In the Kumulipo (the creation chant), the islands are referred to as moku. It was only through the Hawaiian peoples’ intentional, strategic and reciprocal relationships and interactions with the land that an ‘āina exists. The understanding of ‘āina as “that which feeds” depends on the deep and lasting relationship the people have with the land. 

To explain this further, I turn to Dr. Katrina-Ann R. Kapā‘anaokalāokeola Nakoa Oliviera’s (2014) Kanaka Geographies. In this work, she explores the intrinsic connections Kanaka Hawaiʻi had with the land (further underlining the point regarding Freire’s distaste for a dichotomy between world and people). Specifically, she describes the social systems in which Hawaiian people worked and lived. In her explanation of the maka‘āinana (non-chiefly) class, she explains: “[they] were very inclusive…social interaction renewed bonds with the community on a daily basis through acts of generosity…Acts of kindness and interdependence allowed the makaʻāinana to prosper…” (p. 39).

Oliviera goes on to explore the etymology of the term makaʻāinana:

...Makaʻāinana refers to the people who were the backbone of the ahupua‘a [land division], suggesting that people and the land division were synonymous. Similarly, the indissoluble relationship is reflected in various ʻōlelo makuahine (mother tongue) terms. The word ‘kuaʻāina’ refers today to people who live off the ʻāina and who carry the burden of the land on their backs. This term means ‘back of the land’, which suggests that the ʻāina is supported by the makaʻāinana. (p. 40)

Just as our interactions with and responsibility for the land are essential to our understanding of what land is, children’s interactions with one another are essential to the construction of meaning and value. Equally fundamental to Hawaiian society are the horizontal relationships that people have with each other - reciprocity is a pillar of Hawaiian society that allows each member of a community to feel connected and successful.

It is also documented that throughout Hawaiian history, Hawaiian learners often taught each other and learned from each other effectively. Samuel Kamakau [1815 - 1876] was a prevalent Hawaiian scholar and historian, whose writings offer us a glimpse into ancient Hawaiian history, as well as the politics of his era. In his work Ruling Chiefs of Hawai‘i (1992), Kamakau explains how his relationship with his peers prepared him for the academic work at Lahainaluna: 

I had no teacher to teach me the alphabet and numbers, but I acquired knowledge without going through elementary school…We learned and sought after knowledge like Kauakahiakahaola [an advisor and teacher to Kalaniopuʻu]…the pupils taught each other with great patience. (p. 409)

Kamakau was not the only person at the time to note the constructivist nature in which Hawaiian learners were crafting knowledge and understanding. Laura Fish Judd, a wife of the missionary doctor Gerrit Judd, kept meticulous journals of her experiences. In one, she writes, “It is astonishing how many [Hawaiians] have learned to read with so few books. They teach each other, making use of banana leaves, smooth stones, and the wet sand on the beach…”(p. 30). Learning as a social process, then, is a foundation for Hawaiian learning, both ancient and modern.

On the other hand, Hawaiian learners also recognized when educational systems were not suited to the whole learner (i.e. not progressive). Returning to Samuel Kamakau and his educational experience, he describes learning “Geography, navigation, physical geography, geometry, mathematics, latitude and longitude, calculations of time…(p. 409)”, all while “[the students] were still wearing malo (loin cloth)”. However, his disdain for the methods with which these subjects were taught is clear. Although Lahainaluna became a site of Progressive Education in the Pacific (as described in Dr. Makaiau’s blog), it was not so at this time.

It is apparent that although the subjects Kamakau outlines would have been particularly relevant to Hawaiian and Pacific students (navigation, geography and physical geography), Kamakau writes that this education would have been worthwhile if “...the pupils could have had the delight of handling the instruments for determining latitude and longitude, watch time by the telescope and determine the meridian of the sun, moon and stars…such things are an important part of education…” (p. 409). His critique that the learning lacked the hands-on element is the same critique we hear echoed by Western philosophers of education. We see the Hawaiian pedagogical approach of “learning by doing” echoed over and over again in the global progressive education movement.

III. Direct Experiences Allow Us to Engage Multiple Senses for Greater Understanding

Progressive educators assert that children learn best through direct experiences that:

• Promote thinking about the experience (Dewey’s definition of education) to construct understanding

• Present genuine problems to solve and opportunities to apply what has been learned

• Integrate facts to support the development of concepts and generalizations (understandings) about how the world works and a child’s place in that world

As children are so sensorial, we know how important it is for them to experience their learning directly through their senses. Hawaiian ‘ike also recognize other senses, which, aligned with the progressive practices of continuous growth, reflection, and groundedness, aids in children's development of understanding. Drawing from a long intellectual history of Hawaiian scholars and leaders, Dr. Katrina-Ann R. Kapā’anaokālaokeola Nakoa Oliviera outlines a methodology of learning that is multi-sensory and responsive to one’s lived environment. The entire framework is explained in great detail in the text Kanaka ʻŌiwi Methodologies: Moʻolelo and Metaphor (Oliviera et. al., 2016), but what follows is a synthesized version. They are as follows:

• Sense Ability of Sight. The Hawaiian word for knowing and seeing are the same - ‘ike - so sight provides us with visual clues that help us interpret our world.

• Sense Ability of Listening. Conversations with mentors and teachers were a main avenue through which the Hawaiian learner acquired knowledge.

• Sense Ability of Taste. “A researcher might taste the limu to better understand a mele written by their great-grandmother about the delicacies of her ancestral homeland” (79).

• Sense Ability of Touch. “Only when someone actually travels to the place and experiences the winds and rains of that location will she or he ever truly understand…” (p. 79).

• Sense Ability of Smell. As memory can be so tied to our learning, scent is a powerful way to reflect on an experience and recall the knowledge gained from it.

• Sense Ability of Naʻau. Na‘au, or intuition, can be a powerful tool for understanding, both in the classroom and outside of it.

• Sense Ability of Kulāiwi. Kulāiwi “values our longstanding relationships with our ancestral homelands. It appreciates the unique local knowledge systems that we refine over generations by residing on the same lands” (p. 80).

• Sense Ability of Au ʻĀpaʻapaʻa. This is an honoring of ancestral time-keeping methods, like the kaulana mahina. Observing the passage of time and the connection between the moon’s phases and other natural phenomena allowed the Hawaiian learner opportunities to draw deep understandings of the interconnectedness of our world.

• Sense Ability of Mo‘o. “The sense ability of mo‘o is based on knowledge systems created and refined over thousands of years…it is an understanding that the knowledge we create today serves as a legacy for succeeding generations of Kanaka” (p. 81).

This framework lays out, in a concrete way, many of the senses we encourage children to use when learning inside or outside the classroom. As educators, we encourage close and sustained observation. We also encourage reflection - not just thinking about the experience, but how one felt during the experience. Progressive education also encourages learners to think “big picture”; by having epiphanies about the relationships between concepts, children are creating enduring understandings about their world. By encouraging this type of thinking, we ensure that the learning is meaningful.

IV. Learning Environments Must be Structured and Approached as a Representation of the Greater Society

Progressive educators understand that schools are a microcosm of a community and reflect diversity. They provide children with the:

• Introduction to different ideas and alternative solutions to problems

• Tools to learn how to function in a social setting

• Opportunity to learn and apply the skills required for social decision-making in a democratic society (listening, voicing opinions, considering welfare of others)

ʻŌlelo Noʻeau (proverbs) are a continuous source of wisdom from and connection to our ancestors. They illustrate the observations that Hawaiians made about their world, their society, human nature, and their values. One such ʻōlelo noʻeau states, “He wa‘a, he moku; he moku, he wa‘a” - “the canoe is an island; the island is a canoe.” Earlier, I discussed how interdependence played an enormous role in a functioning Hawaiian society. This ʻōlelo noʻeau makes this assertion in more poetic terms, illustrating that, like the team working together to paddle a canoe, everyone on the island has important roles and responsibilities. By drawing the parallel between the microcosm of the canoe and the macrocosm of the community, we see exactly how Hawaiian society viewed the role of the individual and the group. 

V. Self-Direction and Self-Determination Yield True Learning

I have often argued in my capacity as a librarian/information scientist that information literacy is a means for self-determination for Indigenous people. When Indigenous people know how to find and access the many repositories of cultural knowledge that exist, then we are able to more fully understand ourselves as individuals and as part of a people. I believe the same is true in education. Educators committed to building self-determination help create learners, not just students. 

Self-determination is a political term that carries much weight for Indigenous people. I argue (as does Dr. Noelani Goodyear Kaʻōpua) that educational self-determination is a way forward for both the individual and a community. In her book The Seeds We Planted, Goodyear-Kaʻōpua describes the creation of Hālau Kū Māna (a Hawaiian culture based public charter school), and how the notion of educational self-determination guided its founding principles:

[Students had] experienced their former school as rundown, devoid of affirmation of their Hawaiian identities, and alienating because it was both boring and oppressive…we aimed to build an educational space where students could feel nurtured yet challenged…the notion of self-determination as both collective and personal empowerment characterized this vision. (p. 87)

Within such a space - one that is both challenging and nurturing - learners feel empowered to follow their own lines of inquiry and assume their kuleana (responsibility) towards their learning, community and ‘āina. 

In chapter 3 of her book, titled “Rebuilding the Structures that Feed Us”, Goodyear-Kaʻōpua describes the multidisciplinary project the school undertook in restoring a loʻi. She explains: 

[This project] aimed not only to ground learning in math, science, social studies, and language but also to root students in an ethics of kuleana - a notion of responsibilities, authority, and rights that are tied to one’s positionality in relation to place, genealogy, and effort put forth in knowledge acquisition/production. The process of finding and restoring kuleana is a powerful method of inquiry, teaching, and learning in contemporary Hawaiian education. By centering collective responsibilities to restore specific 'āina (as kuleana), Indigenous and settler students and educators together open possibilities of transforming settler-colonial relations on at least three levels. First, the Project takes up the material practice of rebuilding physical structures that feed people. Dislodging overdependence on a corporate-dominated transnational market economy for basic nutritional needs is an important aspect of realizing sustainable self-determination. Second, by placing living ʻāina at the center, the reconstructive labor and the stories told about those efforts help to create epistemological space, providing sources of theory, metaphor, and multidisciplinary, cross-cultural inquiry. The notion of rebuilding ʻauwai, restoring the channels through which knowledge can flow to nurture land, youth, and their communities, helps us reconceptualize Indigenous education in ways more productive than hackneyed and harmful images like "teaching students to walk in two worlds." Third, the emphasis on personal and collective kuleana rather than on identity allows students and teachers to productively engage in Indigenous cultural revitalization projects together without losing sight of positionality and power. (p. 132) 

Powerful learning happens when students feel a direct kuleana towards their own learning, place, and each other. 

VI. Meaningful Learning Occurs When Students Apply Integrated Skills in Real-World Contexts

Progressive educators study how the integration of skills and subject matter within significant content of interest to children leads to meaningful learning. They see how this:

• Supports children making connections and seeing relationships

• The development of skills, which are important tools and not ends to themselves; and how skills need to be useful and applied

What has not been discussed yet is the notion that in Hawaiian language, the word for teaching and learning is the same - aʻo. This is once again indicative of the value placed upon and the necessity of relationships and reciprocity in Hawaiian society. Identifying relationships and crafting connections was not only encouraged in children learning but in fact, was a skill necessary for survival. 

Observation (described in Hawaiian as either nānā or kilo) allowed people to learn skills like navigation, kapa making, fishing and planting, while also providing the means to make informed choices. In Malcom Nāea Chun’s text Aʻo: Educational Traditions (2006), he recounts a historical anecdote originally recorded by Abraham Fornander in Hawaiian Antiquities and Folklore (1919): 

There was a great fisherman from Puueo engaged with a large net at the Heenehu fishing grounds, who noticed the dirty water of the sea and was surprised at the fact. He thought there was war in the mountains which was the cause of the dirt in the stream. It was his ability to deduce, by putting together the facts that the fresh water coming from the mountains was muddy although it was not raining there, that the streams were probably being crossed by many feet, hence a war party was on the way. (p. 4)

By the fisherman’s careful observation, he was able to understand the connection between rain, the mud, and the ocean, and determine what might be out of the ordinary. When children observe and create connections like these, they are able to make their own informed decisions, whether in the classroom or outside of it.

VII. Educators Must Use Data and Context to Guide Best Practices

Taking a step forward into contemporary Hawaiian teaching and learning, it is important to recognize the context in which Hawaiian learners exist. Using frameworks developed by and for Indigenous peoples provides the means for teaching and learning that is both responsive and inclusive. I want to bring attention to a Kanaka Hawai'i based Critical Race Theory that can help inform decisions made in classrooms where Kanaka children learn, as Hawaiian learners exist in a specific historical, political and cultural context. Erin Kahunawaikaʻala Wright and Brandi Jean Nālani Balutski outline their theory, expanding on Bryan McKinley Jones Brayboy’s Tribal Critical Race Theory (2005):

1. The consequences of colonialism and occupation are pervasive and unique to Hawaiʻi in their exploitation of ʻāina and appropriation of identity.

2. Aloha ʻāina is fundamental to the expression and analysis of educational journeys for Kanaka Hawai'i.

3. It is important to honor and recognize hūnā (sacred, hidden) of moʻolelo. Unlike western notions of research, not everything is free and open, and sometimes what is shared may only be understood by a few.

4. Moʻokūʻauhau (to places, people, spaces) can be used to describe and understand the diverse pathways and relationships that individuals have with respect to different contexts.

5. Kuleana (right, responsibility, privilege, concern, authority) is the culmination of Kanaka Hawai'i moʻolelo about their educational journeys and the ways in which they enact agency.

Context is especially important in Hawaiian culture. Hawaiian language is incredibly contextual; as a Hawaiian speaker who learned in a classroom, I often struggle with Hawaiian newspapers as a resource, as the lack of diacritical marks require me to unpack the greater context. We also have the concept of “kaona” - layered, poetic meanings to words that may only be revealed once the reader or listener has greater context. In the same way, teaching requires that same context. Creating curriculum and refining teaching practice using this framework aids in the creation of an educational environment that is not just culturally responsive and inclusive, but culturally sustaining. 

Django Paris describes the value of creating such a culturally sustaining learning environment in his book Culturally Sustaining Pedagogies (2017). He defines a culturally sustaining pedagogy as a movement that:

…seeks to perpetuate and foster—to sustain—linguistic, literate, and cultural pluralism as part of schooling for positive social transformation and revitalization. CSP positions dynamic cultural dexterity as a necessary good, and sees the outcome of learning as additive, rather than subtractive, as remaining whole rather than framed as broken, as critically enriching strengths rather than replacing deficits. Culturally sustaining pedagogy exists wherever education sustains the lifeways of communities who have been and continue to be damaged and erased through schooling. As such, CSP explicitly calls for schooling to be a site for sustaining—rather than eradicating—the cultural ways of being of communities of color. (p. 1)

Like Dr. Noelani Goodyear-Kaʻōpua’s description of the goals of Hālau Kū Māna’s educational model, a school that is both responsive and sustaining creates an environment that ensures success for all learners.

VIII. We Learn First From Our Families

The practice of hānai in Hawaiian society is the practice of an older generation adopting a child within their own family. Mary Kawena Pukui explains, “Hānai as it is most often used means a child who is taken permanently to be reared, educated and loved by someone other than natural parents. This was traditionally a grandparent or other relative” (p. 49). This was exceptionally common throughout Hawaiian history, and continues to this day. There was an understanding that it was the grandparents who raised children - transmitting skills, culture and values. Pukui asserts that “the whole feeling was that the first grandchild belonged to the grandparents” (p. 49). Elders in Hawaiian society are highly valued, and treated with utmost respect and reverence. In each family was a hānau mua - the “head” of the family. Pukui explains that this hānau mua served multiple roles within the ʻohana (family): “accepted sources of wisdom, arbiter of family disputes…the custodian of family history” (p. 126). This was not simply an assumed role; it had responsibilities, and was an earned honor “not by wielding authority, but by discharging responsibility” (p. 126). 

Mary Kawena Pukui herself learned at her grandmother’s side to be the hānau mua of her own ʻohana - watching and listening, in order to “memorize all the relatives, both the living ones and the family ʻaumākua (ancestor gods)...[learn] etiquette and family customs... the traditions of land ownership... how to sit down quietly and talk to people in trouble... when I should call for ho‘oponopono…I memorized the chants” (127). The amount of both social-emotional and intellectual learning that Pukui experienced under her grandmother’s tutelage is evident. The responsibilities of the hānau mua were all-encompassing: they were counselor, encyclopedia, family tree and legal advisor all in one. Pukui’s grandmother taught her everything she knew, and Pukui grew up to become one of the greatest Hawaiian scholars of all time, whose contributions to Hawaiian scholarship and intellectual history are almost unmatched. Because of Pukui’s educational experiences within her own family, Hawaiians today have primary sources that inform us about family structures, philosophy, values, and practices of our ancestors.

Conclusion

When Kamehameha III proclaimed, “mine is a kingdom of literacy”, he was not just outlining a plan for the educational success of the nascent Hawaiian kingdom. He, like many of his Hawaiian contemporaries, saw literacy and education as a means of political agency and an approach to geopolitical power - not just for the individual, but for the Kingdom as a whole. In the late 1860’s, a world exposition was held in Paris, and the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi was in attendance, Samuel Kamakau notes:

Such is the Hawaiian kingdom. A little kingdom, but it has been given a room in the great exposition in Paris, the only government from the Pacific to be represented. The European governments are astonished to see the sign outside the Hawaiian room at the exposition. They cannot believe it. A race of man-eaters are the Hawaiian people, are they not? And do they really have a government? … At the office of the Hawaiian government they find books from the first pīʻāʻpā [alphabet] primer to books large and small, the Bible, and newspaper files beginning with the Lama Hawaiʻi and the Kumu Hawaiʻi and ending with the Au 'Oko'a and the Kuʻokoʻa. Books for education, books of laws from the beginning to the present time. The office has a quantity of Hawaiian manuscripts. The men interested in education look at each other and say, "This cannibal island is ahead in literacy; and the enlightened countries of Europe are behind it!" Hawaii is a country with a constitution, with laws and by-laws; its throne is established by constitutional authority. Most of the European countries are still ruled by the power of the king and nobles alone. Hawaii is ahead of them. (p. 420)

The pride that Kamakau takes in the intellectual accomplishments of his kingdom of birth is apparent. His emphasis on Hawaiian written word - from the ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi Bible, to the nūpepa (newspapers), to the primer that was used to teach reading and writing - demonstrates how essential the many tools had become to this “kingdom of literacy”. Kamakau also praises Kauikeouli’s leadership, a leadership style that placed educated people in positions of power:

He believed the time had come when some of the commoners would become sufficiently educated to do intelligent skilled labor, and the people and the government would be benefitted by the introduction of skilled employment…Kamehameha collected skilled workers from the country districts and developed in each profession a class of teachers whose knowledge became the working arm of the government. (p. 373)

The Hawaiian kingdom rapidly embraced Western education systems, while still preserving the pedagogies of Hawaiian society. By aligning those philosophies, practices and beliefs, citizens of the Hawaiian kingdom became an incredibly informed and literate population, whose civil discourse is documented in length by scholars like Samuel Kamakau, the Kūʻē Petitions of 1897, and countless nūpepa. Dr. Kamanamaikalani Beamer (2014), whose quote began this blog post, also provides exhaustive research on the many ways that Kanaka participated in local and international diplomacy. In his book No Mākou Ka Mana: Liberating the Nation, he writes about the education particularly of aliʻi (chiefly) children. He says:

The keiki ali'i were taught both Hawaiian and Euro-American protocols and were then internationalized through various trips to European and Asian countries. When these highly educated children later became monarchs, they governed in ways that directly challenged their former missionary teachers, not only by emphasizing indigenous traditions, but also by seeking to expand international alliances with countries other than the United States. (p. 156)

Educators today can learn from this educational history of the Hawaiian islands, based in Native Hawaiian systems of knowledge. Aligning our own practices and philosophies with non-Western epistemologies will aid teaching practices in becoming more culturally sustaining, place-based, and help to support responsibility and relationship building. It may also uncover the contributions of educators, scholars and thinkers whose work has yet to be recognized.

Works Cited:

Beamer, K. (2014). No Mākou Ka Mana: Liberating the Nation. Kamehameha Publishing. 

Chun, M. N. (2006). Aʻo: Educational Traditions. University of Hawaiʻi.

Dewey, J. (1916). Democracy and Education. Pennsylvania State University.

Freire, P. (1968). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Continuum.

Goodyear-Kaʻōpua, N. (2013). The Seeds We Planted: Portraits of a Native Hawaiian Charter School. University of Minnesota Press.

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ABOUT THE ContributorS:

ʻO Gabrielle Ahuliʻi Ferreira Holt ke kahu puke ma ke kula o Hanahauʻoli, ma Honolulu, Hawaiʻi. He MLIS kona mai ke kulanui o Hawaiʻi ma Mānoa, a he BFA kona mai ke kulanui o British Columbia (ma ka ʻāina ʻōiwi no na poʻe xwməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish), Stó:lō and Səl̓ílwətaʔ/Selilwitulh (Tsleil- Waututh). 

Gabrielle Ahuliʻi Ferreira Holt is the librarian at Hanahauʻoli School in Honolulu, Hawaiʻi. She has a MLIS from the University of Hawaiʻi and a BFA from the University of British Columbia (situated on the unceded territories of the xwməθkwəy̓əm [Musqueam], Skwxwú7mesh [Squamish], Stó:lō and Səl̓ílwətaʔ/Selilwitulh [Tsleil- Waututh] nations.) She is a third-generation graduate of Hanahauʻoli.