Would you like a hot dog? The Aboriginal man, who was on his first visit to a city and to whom the question was addressed, looked amazed and then responded, “Can I come and have a look?”. He soon discovered that ‘hot dogs’ were not what his grasp of English and the mental picture it had conjured up – of a cooked canine – had led him to believe. A rather relieved young man enjoyed his first ‘hot dog’. An amusing incident at the time, but how often do the words used in Aboriginal schools – particularly in maths lessons – evoke mental pictures or concepts that differ markedly from those of children who grow up speaking English and with a conceptual view of the world related to the western system of knowledge? What is perhaps even more alarming is that teachers are often unaware that this is happening, and when the child fails to act intelligently in certain situations the teacher often despairs and then gives up trying to teach maths effectively and concentrates on teaching ‘sums’, at which Aboriginal children, with their strong aural and visual memories, gain some measure of success. But such an approach, though measurable in school, fails to equip a child to operate mathematically in the real world where, for example, we meet our subtraction operations not clothed in the language of ‘take away’ and certainly never ‘minus’ but in comments like: “Red Cravats scored 32 and Waratahs finished 6 goals behind them,” or “Nhulunbuy are at the top of the ladder with 34 points and Yirrkala are second with 29”.

The majority of the 27,000 Aborigines in the Northern Territory live in remote communities and on cattle stations, or are grouped around some of the smaller rural towns that are scattered through the 1,347,500 square kilometres of the Northern Territory. These extremely isolated communities may vary in size from, say, one hundred to over one thousand people. There is vast climatic and geographical variation, too, between the tropical communities around the beaches that fringe the Arafura sea, and those in the desert where the harsher climate and terrain have an appeal of their own to those who live there.

To educate 7,000 Aboriginal children, the Northern Territory endeavours to maintain 43 schools in Aboriginal communities, plus another 27 which are located on pastoral properties. Apart from two residential colleges located at Alice Springs and Darwin, which cater for secondary-age Aboriginal students, all Aboriginal schools could be regarded as remote, isolated by geographical distance from the larger centres. These 70 schools present complex logistical problems to those who supply and maintain buildings, equipment and staff. However, although formidable, the problems associated with remoteness are insignificant when compared with the social, cultural and linguistic factors that create distance between these traditionally oriented Aboriginal children and our western style of education.

In many aspects of formal education we expect Aboriginal children to think, learn and behave as white children. This is an unreasonable expectation because Aboriginal children in their home lives are seldom equipped with those skills which are necessary at school. Worse, teachers often don’t understand what skills are required in school learning because they are so fundamental to the task, and because white children display these skills so easily.

This paper looks at the reading process from this point of view and identifies areas where Aboriginal children need to be taught specific skills before they can read with purpose. Suggestions as to how to teach these skills are included.

The major aim of this paper is to look at ways in which teachers of Aboriginal children can improve reading ability. I believe that our teaching methods could be improved by concentrating on what I see as being the crucial difference between Aboriginal and White Australian (yolngu and balanda) children in the formal school setting. That is, that yolngu children do not expect to and do not participate in the school program in an active purposeful self-conscious way, but rather participate passively in the school learning process in the same way as they participate passively in their day-to-day home life. What I intend to do is talk first of all about this particular idea and then later about things that I hope or believe teachers can do about it.

It is quite likely that at the start of a teaching career at an Aboriginal school, a teacher would know how to teach reading. He would have received the theoretical background at college or university, and applied this knowledge with varying degrees of success at practice-teaching sessions and possibly with increasing success at an urban school. Therefore, when an obviously talented teacher finds that previously used strategies simply do not work, and even his knowledge of how to cope with disadvantaged and remedial children seems to be of no use, it is time to look a little deeper into what motivates his pupils.

In recent years full-time bridging or ‘continuing’ education programs for Aboriginal adults have been developed in technical colleges throughout Western Australia. These programs, known as TAFE Aboriginal Access Courses, have expanded rapidly and in 1981 were catering for over 200 Aboriginal students in seven technical colleges. Among the findings of a recent evaluation of these courses (Goldsworthy et al, 1981) was that a large number of students wanted an increased Aboriginal component within their courses.

While issues of specific interest to Aboriginal students permeate the entire Aboriginal Access programs, it was felt that the development of a unit of Aboriginal Studies for inclusion in the Access Courses would be the most pragmatic way of meeting this student need. A steering committee was formed to develop this unit comprising two educators of Aboriginal descent, an Aboriginal Access Curriculum Officer and a lecturer from one of the TAFE Aboriginal Access Courses.

My early years as a teacher were concerned with children labelled as slow learners. In the light of what many of them have achieved over the years – ranging from skilled trades to self-employment – I sometimes wonder whether we limit our educational horizons on occasion to expectations based on faulty or imprecise data, or to a process of conditioning; what to expect in given localities or among certain groups of children.

Fortunately, my professional reading at that time led me to Kirk and Johnson: “Educating the Retarded Child”, and to their concept of “belongingness”. They argued that the teacher accepts the child as he is, with all his imperfections and educational blemishes, his deprivations, disadvantages and differences. It is all too easy for us to hang the child’s lack of motivation and interest on the peg of social, housing or health services deficiency, and to avoid the personal and professional involvement that is a prerequisite of the committed teacher.

Unfortunately, our educational practice is such that we continue to identify minority-group children on western-oriented tests of general ability. No allowance is made for the fact that the child is unfamiliar with the language of the test administrator or indeed, of the items of the test; and yet it is well known in psychological circles that test results are only valid if the children being tested are as familiar with the test items as was the group on whom the test was normed.

Given the nature and development of Australian society, it is important that we reassess the place of mathematics in the school curriculum, and particularly its place as one of the basic shared student experiences.

It is in the national interest that school programs promote adequate levels of competence within good mathematics programs, and that as many people as possible achieve at those levels. It is also in the interests of Australia and its people that individuals reach as high a level as possible in the subject. Mathematics is important chiefly because it can help in understanding and interpreting many aspects of the world. It can help a person make a significant contribution to a technological society.

So when we address basic skills in mathematics, it is important that we address them within the context of a total mathematics program. Basic skills involve more than arithmetic skills, and understanding of mathematical concepts and processes is more important than knowledge of isolated facts and skills. The following should not be read or interpreted as a list of differentiated topics but as a list of different facets from which the mathematics curriculum may be examined.

This is the first national statement of basic mathematical skills and concepts for effective participation in Australian society. It has been prepared for and endorsed by the Standing Committee of the Australian Mathematics Education Program and is offered as a statement of informed professional opinion.

This paper describes a teaching technique well suited to encouraging older children with poor reading ability to attack reading with interest and purpose. The strength of this method lies in the fact that it is based upon sound theory and can be implemented without too much trouble. Children enjoy it, and reading can come alive to a child for the first time in his school career.

Since the early 1970s there have been many positive developments in the education of Aboriginal Australian children as well as education about Aboriginal society, past and present, for all children. We only have to look at such developments as Aboriginal Secondary Grants, Study Grants, home-school liaison, language programs, (e.g. Van Leer or the bilingual programs), family support/counselling (e.g. the Inala Family Project), Aboriginal Education Consultative groups at local, regional, state and national levels. The list of positive developments appears to be endless. Certainly teachers, schools and State Departments of Education have consulted with Aboriginal groups to develop policy statements about Aboriginal Education/Aboriginal Studies in schools. Money has been spent on employing (and sometimes training) Aboriginal teaching assistants; Aboriginal schools have received some support and in areas such as the Northern Territory and Northern Queensland, efforts are underway to decentralise education.

In a very real sense giant steps appear to have been made in Aboriginal education over the past ten years or so. If we are really honest, however, the results of these giant steps remain comparatively disappointing. Thus, although we know that Aboriginal children stay at schools for longer now than they did during the 1960s, the proportion who actually complete senior high school at a satisfactory level is small. For example, in the North West Region of New South Wales, only 11 Aboriginal students were enrolled in Year 12 at the beginning of 1981. See Table 1 for further information.

In that same year, 224 Aboriginal students entered high school throughout the region. If the 1981 patterns of enrolment for Year 12 persist, then only 5% of the 224 children who started high school will actually complete the program. These figures are not encouraging, particularly as non-Aboriginal students’ enrolment patterns indicate that 29% of those who begin high school actually make it to Year 12.

“Aboriginal Studies is essentially a study of the cultures and history of the indigenous peoples of Australia. Such studies also involve those issues which are of contemporary or historic interest to Aboriginal society and consequently to the total Australian community”.

Western-style schooling for Aboriginal children in New South Wales began formally in 1940. Nineteen-forty was the year in which the New South Wales Department of Education abandoned its long-standing policy of exclusion relating to Aboriginal children. Prior to this, Aboriginal children were excluded from State schools on the complaint of a white parent. From 1940 on, it could be said that Aboriginal people had achieved the right to State schooling. This is, of course, a political statement as much as an educational one. I would argue that 1940, in fact, saw the beginning of modern Aboriginal politics.

Modern Aboriginal politics, as such, began in the early 1960s when Vincent Lingiari and the Gurindji people walked off Wave Hill; that was the beginning of the land rights movement. The 1940s and the 1950s, however, saw Aboriginal people struggle for the human right of education for their children.

During the late 1960s and 1970s, many Aboriginal people spent a great deal of time criticising the very education systems which they fought so hard to become part of. Yet Aboriginal people have voted for this form of education with their feet. In 1975, according to Commonwealth Government statistics, there were 223 Aboriginal people in tertiary institutions in Australia. In 1980, there were 881, that is a 295% increase. In 1970, however, there were only 20 Aboriginal people found to be in tertiary institutions in Australia and that, believe it or not, registers by 1980 as being a 4,310% increase. Unfortunately, this does not reflect an equivalent 4,310% improvement in outcomes of schooling; this extraordinary phenomenon associated with the tertiary education is very much an Aboriginal adventure.

In Eastern Australia the respective State Education Departments are encouraging the liaison of Aboriginal parents with the schools. An Aboriginal person is usually employed to facilitate this important interaction and is employed under various titles – The Aboriginal Home Visitor, Home-School Coordinator, and Community Education Counsellor. The diversity of nomenclature is maintained in Western Australia, where the Aboriginal person entrusted with this demanding task is employed as an Aboriginal Liaison Officer.

The following articles describe the duties and performance of the Aboriginal Liaison Officers from three levels. Colin Mounsey, Superintendent of Aboriginal Education in Western Australia, provides a state-level overview, relating the history and special requirements of the Aboriginal Liaison Officer. Neil MacNeill (Principal, Roebourne Primary School) and Gladys Walker (Aboriginal Liaison Officer, Roebourne) relate the operations of the Liaison Officer from a local and personal viewpoint. (C.N. MacNeill)