Indigenous literacy–my thoughts
So April is Aussie Author Month – a great move by bloggers across genres to promote and celebrate Australian authors.
They've decided as part of it all to make it a fundraiser for the Indigenous Literacy Foundation, which is aimed at improving literacy in remote indigenous communities in Australia.
Having once been a teacher in a remote indigenous community and now an Australian author, I had to speak some about my experience and thoughts. Disclaimer – it's been more than eleven years since I last taught an indigenous student, twelve years since I left the Kimberley so my thoughts may be a little dated, but I think the basis is still pretty good.
I spent three years teaching at Djarindjin Lombadina Catholic School, on the Dampier Peninsula (north of Broome). They still rate as three of the best years of my life. Those kids rocked!
I was lucky to be able to keep the core of the class with me throughout the three years, so when I arrived I was teaching a Years 2/3 and by the time I left, they were 5/6. During this time, I also did a graduate certificate in teaching English as a second language, which gave me some extra insight.
Point one – these kids speak Standard Australian English (SAE) as their second language. Where I was working, the first language was Aboriginal English (AE), a dialect of SAE. This means that while it's recognisably English, it's got its own grammar, punctuation and word meaning. In Central Australia, you're more likely to find the language called Kriole. This is a creole – a term referring to the mixing of two languages that is forming a new, unique language. Even after three years and an ear well-tuned to AE, I could not understand a Kriole speaker any more than I could someone speaking French, for example. In a few of the communities, the traditional language is still spoken, which can add an extra layer of language. Of course, the large majority of books in this land are written in SAE, so as a teacher out there you're trying to teach the children to read in a language they don't actually speak. Imagine if you would that when you got to school, all the books were in Italian, and you had to learn to read in Italian – it gets across some concept of what's going on here.
Point two – these communities are largely without contact with written language. Think about it – even in mainstream households that aren't big readers, there's still a huge amount of written language around. Magnets on the fridge. Calenders. Bills. Even without lots of books, there could be magazines and newspapers around. Computers. When you step outside, you see streetsigns, signs on shops, advertising on buses and taxis. What all this reinforces for children, even if they aren't being read to, is the power and importance of the written word. Out in the communities, however, the places you see the written word are limited. At the community office, the community store, the medical centre, the cop shop (if you have one), the school. That's it. Few of the houses have any sort of written material. There isn't any to be viewed wandering around. It's easy to go for a day or more and not see ANYTHING written down. What does this say about the written word? Perhaps that it's a white man's thing and only of use in certain situations or circumstances. That makes it harder to teach, when it's not perceived to be of much value.
Point three – it's hard to teach kids to be literate when family is not. As wonderful as schools are, as much as teachers do, the family is still the primary teacher and carer of children. I often found that at the beginning of each school term, I was having to do some revision work because a lot of learning got lost as children had weeks without contact with books or reading. It's not that their parents didn't want them to learn – they were desperate for it, understanding as adults can (and children can't) just what this meant for their future. But the parents didn't have the skills or the resources to ensure their children's learning could be maintained. Each generation was getting better, but it's a long hard road to move an entire race of people from illiteracy to the levels required to function in white society. We've had hundreds of years head start on this, and our society is built to demand literacy – theirs is not.
So what does all this mean? It means that folks like the Indigenous Literacy Foundation aren't just doing something nice – they are performing an invaluable service. Just getting books, the written word, into homes can mean huge amounts. Translating work into traditional and Aboriginal English makes the learning easier. They're things that might not mean much to white Australia, but I can assure you the difference this can make to one person – a family – a community is invaluable.
Because we all know that when we feel we belong, we're better able to contribute. Right now, lots of indigenous Australians are being kept from belonging because they can't read.
Help by supporting the foundation.
