David Hill: Better literacy means less disaffection and violence

I sat in on a meeting of a children's book association the other week. It was a pretty important meeting, run by a pretty important organisation.

So it was well-attended by people of both sexes, many ages and many occupations. More than 200 turned up to a day which focused on the importance of reading for children.

I believe that none of those nearly 200 was Maori. I might be wrong. I apologise profusely if I am. But I'm fairly sure that every person who attended was either Caucasian or Asian.

The absence of Maori wasn't the result of any lack of willingness on the organisation's part to include them. The title, correspondence, publications and formal greetings of this group make a point of acknowledging Te Reo, and acknowledging also the books written by Maori and Polynesian authors for kids.

But I repeat: at an occasion celebrating the significance and value of children's literature and literacy, I couldn't see any Maori participants. And that's a great pity.

It's a pity because children - and especially boys - who read tend to stay out of trouble and out of jail.

Words let people explain themselves and comprehend others. Words are essential tools for avoiding misunderstandings and defusing confrontations. If you don't read, you're more likely to become a victim of some sort.

We've just been told that the suicide rate among young Maori males is the highest for any age/gender/ethnicity group in the country. We've known for years that the literacy rate of the same group is the lowest in the country. The two are linked with a terrible inexorability.

Think of the disproportionate number of young Maori males in prison or other forms of trouble. I wonder how many of them are there partly because they got into situations where they couldn't explain what they were doing and why, and that inability turned into frustration, which turned into rage.

I suggest - and I believe many teachers and parents will agree with me - that if we could raise the level of literacy among these young men, and raise their level of self-esteem along with it, some of the disaffection and violence which too many of them fall victim to would diminish markedly.

I know there are many, many committed Maori teachers in kohanga reo, total immersion classes, and mainstream education. I know also that there are outstanding Maori writers producing work for children in English and te reo.

But this meeting was such a great chance for Maori to promote the literacy needs of their kids to a sympathetic, influential group.

So why weren't they there?

Some possible answers: they were committed to other, equally important meetings or occasions; they feel more comfortable working in an environment of their choosing; they ... they what?

I wish I knew. I ask out of ignorance. I ackowledge my ignorance, and I hope that somebody will explain what that well-meaning, hard-working children's books association can do that will encourage Maori to participate.

Meanwhile, here's another observation, which I willingly concede also reflects my ignorance.

I sometimes get asked into schools to run writing workshops with children. Maori girls attend many of these workshops; they're valuable and - usually - eloquent participants. Maori boys, by contrast, are conspicuously absent.

Once again I'd like to know why. I accept that my being a pakeha is probably one factor, but what else is it that keeps young Maori males away from such chances to improve their language skills and life prospects?

It would be great if I, and willing, skilled people such as those of that children's book association, could have it explained to us by a Maori teacher, parent or academic.

But, as I say, none of those came to the meeting.