Every conception of humanity arises from a specific place and from the people of that place. How such places shape and sustain the people of a place is the focus of education that enables each student to understand themselves and makes them feel at home in the world. The notion of Indigenous humanities being developed at the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon represents an example of such ecological teachings and practices of what constitutes humanity. Ecology is the animating force that teaches us how to be human in ways that theological, moral and political ideologies are unable to. Ecology privileges no particular people or way of life. It does, however, promote Indigenous humanity as affirmed in Article 1 of the 1966 UNESCO Declaration of the Principles of International Cultural Co-operation: “Each culture has a dignity and value which must be respected and preserved” (Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, 1966). In the Eurocentric versions of humanity, this concept is sometimes referred to as cultural diversity; yet Indigenous peoples prefer the concept of Indigenous humanities.

Remote Australian Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander schools and communities are diverse and complex sites shaped by contrasting geographies, languages, histories and cultures, including historical and ongoing relationships with colonialism, and connected yet contextually unique epistemologies, ontologies and cosmologies.

This paper explores the history of Anangu (Pitjantjatjara, Yankunytjatjara, Ngaanyatjarra and Ngaatjatjarra) populations, including the establishment of incorporated communities and schools across the tri-state remote region of central Australia. This study will show that Anangu have a relatively recent contact history with Europeans and Anangu experiences of engagement with colonisation and schooling are diverse and complex.

By describing historical patterns of population centralisation and decentralisation, I argue that schooling and broader education policies need to be contextually responsive to Anangu histories, values, ontologies and epistemologies in order to produce an education approach that resists colonialist social models and assumptions and instead, works more effectively towards a broader aim of social justice. Through assisting educators and policy makers to acquire a clearer understanding of Anangu histories, capacities and struggle, I hope to inform a more nuanced, contextually responsive and socially-just consideration of the provision of Western education in the tri-state region.

Working with beginning teachers to assist them to begin to ‘think what we do’ (Arendt, 1998) in both mainstream and Indigenous education is problematic. This is particularly so because the majority of our teacher candidates, and indeed most of their university lecturers, are positioned close to the racial, social and cultural centre of Australian education. That is, teachers and teacher educators tend to be white, middle class, educationally successful, and accepting of the main premises and assumptions, purposes and values of formal schooling in Australia. This proximity to the centre can lead to an inability to question ideas and practices that, while everyday and seemingly innocuous, are frequently dangerous and destructive for those at the margins. In this article, we illustrate the normative power of hegemonic ideas by using aspects of the teen fiction The Hunger Games as an analogy for ‘thoughtless’ and unquestioning acceptance of authority. We then describe and discuss a pedagogic practice used within the Master of Teaching program at the Melbourne Graduate School of Education. The practice is designed to challenge normative understandings about Australian history, teaching Indigenous Australian students, and to encourage engagement with the German-American Jewish philosopher and political theorist Hannah Arendt's provocative question ‘What are we doing?’ (Arendt, 1998, p. 5). We conclude the article with a challenge to re-think current policies and practices in the education of Indigenous Australians.

The aim of this article is to critically review and analyse the public representations of mature-age university students in developed and some developing nations and how they compare to the public representations of mature-age Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander university students in Australia (‘students’ also refers to graduates unless the context requires specificity). Relevant texts were identified by reviewing education-related academic and policy literature, media opinion and reportage pieces, conference proceedings, and private sector and higher education reviews, reports and submissions. What this review reveals is striking: very few commentators are publicly and unambiguously encouraging, supporting and celebrating mature-age Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander university students. This strongly contrasts with the discussions around mature-age university students in general, where continuous or lifelong learning is acclaimed and endorsed, particularly as our populations grow older and remain healthier and there are relatively lower numbers of working-age people. While scholars, social commentators, bureaucrats and politicians enthusiastically highlight the intrinsic and extrinsic value of the mature-age student's social and economic contributions, the overarching narrative of the mature-age Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander student is one of ‘the horse has bolted’, meaning that it is too late for this cohort and therefore society to benefit from their university education. In this article we examine these conflicting positions, investigate why this dichotomy exists, present an alternative view for consideration, and make recommendations for further research into this area.

What does world view mean? What is the Aboriginal world view like and how does it affect people’s behaviour? Is it possible for a white Australian to understand the Aboriginal world view? In this article I hope to present a white person’s point of view on these questions. I have three sources of information: eight years living with Milingimbi Yolngu, ten years learning and working with the Yolngu language, and as many years reading the works of anthropologists, linguists and Aboriginal writers. I feel that I have only the remotest understanding of this question but it is one which needs to be thought about and talked about. Hopefully this article will provoke debate.

Last year I was approached by the Thursday Island High School in Torres Strait to analyse the major linguistic differences between Standard English and Torres Strait Creole – the language of the majority of the students – insofar as these affect the students' comprehension and production of written English texts. In this, the High School was responding to a request by its Management Committee and general concern about the students' acquisition of English literacy.

In the Torres Straits, the cultural agenda, along with the push to move away from English as the language of instruction, has not been met with uniform enthusiasm by all Islanders. For many there has been a growing sense of disquiet and continuing frustration about the preoccupations with liberal humanist agendas in Islander education, and the ongoing low levels of educational outcomes (Nakata, 1994a; Nakata, Jensen and Nakata, in prep.). As interesting as the writings in education (Orr and Williamson, 1973; Finch, 1975; Langbridge, 1977; Orr, 1977, 1979; Osborne, 1979; Cunnington, 1984; Kale, 1987,1988; Castley and Osborne, 1988; Castley, 1988; Williamson, 1990) are to some people, they contribute little towards an understanding of our difficulties as we, Torres Strait Islanders, experience schooling, and thus contribute little towards a platform for improving our current or future educational outcomes.

This paper interrogates the emphasis on devising regimes for protection of Indigenous knowledge, based on narrowly defined concepts of property, especially intellectual property in legislative and policy discussions and debates and programs of work on Indigenous knowledge. Commenting on the classificatory and typological tendencies of legislative protection regimes, the paper argues for a shift from this emphasis on protection, toward the creation of a space for engagement between Indigenous, and other knowledge traditions, wherein concepts of dialogue, negotiation and agreement-making can occur. The paper supports its argument by reviewing selected legal instruments such as the 2003 UNESCO Convention on the Safeguarding of the Intangible Heritage, and drawing on some of the author's experience working with Aboriginal people in the Kimberley.

The benefits of school and community partnerships are well documented in government reports and the academic literature. A number of government initiatives have been introduced to actively involve parents and the community in school matters. In addition, various agencies have produced resource kits and guidelines to assist schools and communities to develop and foster partnerships, and partnership agreements. Much of this study has focused on working with Aboriginal peoples. The use of the term, ‘Aboriginal’ in this paper refers to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. Initiatives such as ‘What Works’ have had some success in building strong Aboriginal community and school partnerships, however, the literature also reveals that despite such initiatives, the levels of success vary from school to school, with some partnerships unable to develop or be sustained. In responding to a gap in the current knowledge, the authors examine the value of school–community partnerships in a rural and remote school where the percentage of Aboriginal Australian students is high. A brief summary of the outcomes of some of the major initiatives with aims to build effective school and community partnerships is provided. This is followed by the findings from a small pilot research study on the implementation of initiatives to build strong school–community relationships in rural and remote Indigenous school settings in Western Australia. The challenges that may inhibit the establishment of successful school–community relationships/collaboration are discussed and suggestions provided on how these challenges can be addressed.

In this article, I take a creative and autoethnographic approach to reflect upon processes of decolonisation in Indigenous Australian studies classrooms. Positioning myself as a non-Indigenous educator, I take the reader on a journey through my search for pedagogy which makes space for the colonial, difficult and messy politics of race, whiteness and knowledge to be actively challenged, deconstructed and reimagined in this context as PEARL.

This article is essentially a review of an article by J.P. Fanshawe which appeared some 12 years ago in The Aboriginal Child at School [Vol.4 No.3, 1976]. The comments are still valid today and will probably be valid ten years hence.

In the article Fanshawe puts forward a particularly sound argument on what personal and professional characteristics are necessary for a teacher to become effective in teaching nontraditionally oriented adolescent Aborigines. I believe that many of the attributes Fanshawe advocates are equally applicable to teachers involved in teaching Aborigines in the Primary school and indeed, to teachers in general.

Much of the literature on Torres Strait Islander, as well of Aboriginal, education begins from the assumption that oral traditions and cultures have a profound effect on educational achievement. But how easy is it to plot Islanders on an oral/literate continuum (cf. Goody, 1978)? The purpose of this paper is a critical examination of a sociolinguistic model designed to describe Torres Strait Islander and Aboriginal peoples in terms of oracy and literacy by Watson (1988). As part of her attempt to explain mathematics education as it relates to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, her continua attempt at an analysis via a theoretical framework built on socio-demographic and linguistic differences between orate and literate traditions. Watson (1988, p.257) suggest that, “...there exists the same type of continuum linking use of Torres Strait Islander languages and English.”

Despite the continued investment in Indigenous support networks and dedicated education units within universities, levels of key performance indicators for Indigenous students—access, participation, success and completion (attainment)—remain below that of the overall domestic student population in most institutions. It remains important to determine what works to achieve Indigenous student success in higher education. This paper proposes that such methods have an integral role to play in providing a holistic view of Indigenous participation and success at university, and are particularly useful in the development and evaluation of strategies and programs. This project found no quantitative correlation between financial investment and success rate for Indigenous students. A negative correlation between access rate and success rate suggests that factors other than those that encourage participation are important in supporting successful outcomes. Those universities that have high success rates have a suite of programs to support Indigenous students, but it is not immediately clear which of these strategies and programs may be most effective to facilitate Indigenous student success rates. In this discussion, we suggest that a multi-layered determinants model is a useful way to conceptualise the many factors that may impact on student success, and how they might intersect.

Teaching in and of itself is a difficult task fraught with obstacles to classroom success. For those who teach Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students these obstacles are compounded by a political atmosphere that colours every decision made within the school and indeed within education departments.

As classroom teachers it is easy to say that politics has nothing to do with teaching and pretend that it is not an issue. As convenient as this attitude may be, it is denying the facts. Indeed all teachers involved in Indigenous education must accept that their role is political. They must see that part of their task is to overcome years of institutional policy and attitude that have contributed significantly to poor educational performances for Indigenous students in Australia.

The aim of this document is to provide some direction and support to new non-Aboriginal teachers in remote Aboriginal community schools in the Northern Territory. It is intended to accompany the school-based induction, and will hopefully lead to the development of more relevant school-based documents. Many are not only new to Aboriginal community life, but may be in their first position in a classroom after graduating. I have found through my experiences as a teacher in the same situation and then as a mentor to new teachers, that the feeling of being totally overwhelmed, followed closely by distress and panic, is very common. These feelings may be acknowledged by other staff, but are frequently not put into perspective, identified and dealt with as a part of culture shock.

Remote Aboriginal culture(s) and Western culture(s) are two of the most diverse culture groups on earth. In the context of these two fundamentally different world views, Aboriginal formal schooling is facing a major dilemma. Simply put this dilemma is that while most Aboriginal parents have a deep desire for their children to ‘grow up Aboriginal’, they also want their children to succeed in Western schooling and to perform successfully in some aspects of white culture, thereby reducing dependency on white expertise in their communities.

There is growing interest and respect in the world regarding the knowledge and experience of Indigenous peoples. This is particularly so in industrialised ‘post-colonial’ societies such as Australia, which see themselves as committed to principles of equity and social justice.

There is a new political, economic and social context in which Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultural knowledge is widely recognised and valued, even if not properly understood. In the search for a more precisely articulated national identity, Indigenous identity is claimed by many as integral to Australian identity. Coupled with this is a revised sense of coming to terms with the past, a recognition of what has been left out of histories taught from non-Indigenous perspectives. The cold war of invasion and resistance goes on but there are signs of an end in view.

In this article we will consider one Aboriginal child’s literacy learning in her first year of formal schooling. The data were collected in 1985. Sharon was then a student in an Aboriginal Transition class in an urban school in the Northern Territory. The children in Sharon’s class consisted of Kriol, Warlpiri and Aboriginal English speakers. The program they were placed in was an English-only one. This report considers one case study and discusses Sharon’s learning in the classroom context (for a full report see Walton, 1986).

Aboriginal Studies has now been a part of the South Australian curriculum for many years and most of the writing about teaching Aboriginal Studies has focused on appropriate content and pedagogues with little critical appraisal of the actual implementation of Aboriginal Studies curricula. A research project carried out in an inner city Adelaide secondary school suggests that it is crucial for those of us engaged in the teaching of Aboriginal Studies and Aboriginal students, to turn attention to the taken-for-granted presuppositions and ideologies that inform teacher understandings and practices in Aboriginal Studies.

In a climate of self-determination it is essential to clarify what Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people themselves feel about their cultural identity and future. These voices exist in a context of the great potential in Aboriginal culture and by contrast the severe problems which Aboriginal people face.

Lippman (1994) argues that, although there is some evidence of Aboriginal status becoming more equitable, education being one instance to avail self-determination, data continue to reveal that Aboriginal mortality and morbidity rates lie in stark contrast to those of the general population of Australia. The death rate for Aboriginal men and women of 35 to 44 years is eight times higher than for the average non-Aboriginal (Ferrari, 1997). Queensland Health (1996) recently reported that Cape York has yet to experience the mortality gains seen by Indigenous populations in New Zealand and North America.