I remember Kumu’s look of approval as soon as the principal left our classroom. We had all answered her secret call of “Mālama Pono!” which was our signal to report to our assigned stations around the classroom and shift English translations over the ‘ōlelo Hawai’i (Hawaiian language) signs and papers she created for the room. Kumu (teacher) taught us to do this before administrators walked through our class, and we thought it was the best game ever—who wouldn’t want to pull a prank on the principal?
It wasn’t until years later that I realized Kumu was training us for activism in a world actively erasing our culture and language. In 1896, when the Law of the Republic of Hawai’i (Act 57, section 30) was passed to outlaw the teaching and use of ‘ōlelo in classrooms, there were over 40,000 Hawaiians living and speaking their mother language in Hawai’i. Today, there are only 2,000 native speakers, but a 2015 Hawaii State Data Center census reported that 5.7% of families are speaking ‘ōlelo at home, in part, due to language revitalization efforts occurring after Act 57 was overturned. In her own way, Kumu created a liberatory classroom to ensure the safety and growth of language and traditions, allowing her students to learn in ways that our ancestors would have wanted.Dr. Robin Brandehoff
Much like stellar scholars and educators today such as Drs. David Stovall, Donna Y. Ford, Jamaica Heolimeleikalani Osorio, Socorro G. Herrera, Venus Evans-Winters, Tyrone C. Howard, and so many other learning liberators who center culturally sustaining methods as acts of education justice, Kumu used her classroom as a culturally rebellious space to teach us about the histories, stories, and language of our past to preserve our ancestral knowledge while also learning the grade-level standards to continue advancing in the American school system.
“Mālama Pono” has stuck with me throughout my education and teaching journeys. With every shift in roles, I hear Kumu’s call to action and have wondered how this call is reflected in schools today. My curiosity brought me to O’ahu, where I partnered with the Institute for Native Pacific Education and Culture (INPEACE) and their Ka Lama homegrown teacher program. Through an ongoing study with teachers and administrators in an area with the largest population of Native Hawaiians in the state, I developed the Hānai Pedagogy framework, which I am sharing here, along with recommendations for higher education.
Hānai is ‘ōlelo for adopted kin and is an acronym for the pedagogical practices that are rooted in critical mentoring that emerged from this study:
● Hands-on Activities. In every classroom and school, learning is rooted in hands-on activities stemming from Ka Lama projects that centralize STEM-based and ancestral knowledge building. I witnessed lessons on Indigenous gardening, collaborative school murals of local folklore, and a lesson on U.S. presidents mirrored with Hawaiian monarchs with students depicting their histories through dramatic scenes.
● Aloha. In ‘ōlelo, Aloha has many meanings, but it always encompasses love. Hānai was chosen purposefully for this pedagogy. It is an expression of chosen family, echoed throughout every classroom I visited. Each class felt like being at an auntie’s house, and the aloha was shared verbally and through the quiet actions of camaraderie that became a customary component of ongoing observations and interactions.