title: Introduction

authors: Robertson, Jan

subjects: education

abstract: This issue of the Journal of Educational Change explores the complexity of leadership and, for and in change in schools. There is a large body of literature which focuses specifically on the influence of principal leadership and school improvement (see review by Hallinger & Heck, 1998) and increasing amounts recently that extend the focus to include governors, teachers, students and communities, as they explore leadership within change processes in schools (for example, Dimmock, 2000; Harris & Lambert, 2003). Professional learning communities and networking of leaders, nationally and internationally, working together to improve student achievement are common themes in the leadership literature today (for example, Stoll, Bolam & Collarbone 2002; Hargreaves, 2003). Distributed leadership is also a regular theme, with research indicating that it is in the ‘‘leadership practice’’ at various levels within a school, where change occurs (Harris, 2005; Spillane, 2006). A common theoretical underpinning in recent literature is that change in schools is a socio-cultural process (Sleegers, Geijsel & van den Berg, 2002; Wells, 1999; Wells & Claxton, 2002) and that it is through the interactions between members of the learning community that the construction of new knowledge takes place (Spillane, 2006). The contributions in this issue of the Journal of Educational Change focus attention on the socio-cultural nature of leadership, change and transformation in schools.

text: Introduction This issue of the Journal of Educational Change explores the complexity of leadership and, for and in change in schools. There is a large body of literature which focuses specifically on the influence of principal leadership and school improvement (see review by Hallinger & Heck, 1998) and increasing amounts recently that extend the focus to include governors, teachers, students and communities, as they explore leadership within change processes in schools (for example, Dimmock, 2000; Harris & Lambert, 2003). Professional learning communities and networking of leaders, nationally and internationally, working together to improve student achievement are common themes in the leadership literature today (for example, Stoll, Bolam & Collarbone 2002; Hargreaves, 2003). Distributed leadership is also a regular theme, with research indicating that it is in the ‘‘leadership practice’’ at various levels within a school, where change occurs (Harris, 2005; Spillane, 2006). A common theoretical underpinning in recent literature is that change in schools is a socio-cultural process (Sleegers, Geijsel & van den Berg, 2002; Wells, 1999; Wells & Claxton, 2002) and that it is through the interactions between members of the learning community that the construction of new knowledge takes place (Spillane, 2006). The contributions in this issue of the Journal of Educational Change focus attention on the socio-cultural nature of leadership, change and transformation in schools.

year: 2006

title: A dead ordinary woman

authors: Pears, Kim Susan

subjects: Women

abstract: Muriel Murdoch died in 1961 yet she asked  – bullied me more like – into telling her story. ‘Write it all down – all of it,’ she insisted from her an unmarked Essex grave that Mum never let me visit. She was furious to be dead at thirty-five, and wanted me to be her voice. I was reluctant. And curious.  
The veil between us lifted as Muriel shared her childhood losses, and her adult struggles with 1940s Essex as the backdrop. Muriel’s tales mirror, dovetail, and blend with mine. My doubts morph into enthusiasm; irritations settle and across time and space, a loving, playful connection forges between us.

The story needed to be told because Muriel said it did. She was a dead ordinary woman with a life cut short, yet she represented women labelled in 1940s Britain not just as difficult: but as ‘good-time girls’ and ‘home wreckers.’ She was hot-headed, loving, resilient, and principled: she thought that war was stupid; and was unafraid to call out the misogyny of some opinionated men in the chip shop queue: ‘Got herself pregnant? Never heard of that before. You’d better ring the papers.’ 
	I was influenced by Kate Atkinson’s Behind the Scenes at the Museum, whose protagonist starts her narrative from inside her mother’s womb, providing a poignant, witty story of her unfolding life using the omnipresent point of view. Alice Sebold’s Lovely Bones helped me to think about writing about the impact of loss from beyond the grave, and Doireann Ni Ghroifa’s  A Ghost in the Throat gave me a taste of a piece where the author included herself in her journey of researching and writing about a long-dead poet, doubting herself at times. This story was also about a woman who had been forgotten and overlooked.
	The story needed to be told for the adventure of the telling. In its writing, I trusted myself, the process, and the connection with my ancestor. Each day I sat at my desk with the loosest of plans listening to Muriel and putting her words to the page. The more I committed the more the stories came. Why her? Why this? Why now? I agree with Gurprakash, the Dutch, guitar-strumming yogi when he says, ‘The meaning is the experience.’
	Lastly, it needed to be told for my own growth. Writing as Muriel with her flaws and foibles has helped me to accept, love, and even revere, my ordinary self. To accept oneself fully, as Matt Haig writes in The Midnight Library ‘like the way you accept nature, a glacier or a puffin or the breach of a whale. And in so doing you find freedom.’ 
Above all, I wrote this because I wanted people to feel for Muriel, to feel for me, and for themselves.  To feel with compassion. And, as Matt Haig says: ‘Just to say your own truth out loud, is enough to find others like you.’

text: A dead ordinary woman Muriel Murdoch died in 1961 yet she asked  – bullied me more like – into telling her story. ‘Write it all down – all of it,’ she insisted from her an unmarked Essex grave that Mum never let me visit. She was furious to be dead at thirty-five, and wanted me to be her voice. I was reluctant. And curious.  
The veil between us lifted as Muriel shared her childhood losses, and her adult struggles with 1940s Essex as the backdrop. Muriel’s tales mirror, dovetail, and blend with mine. My doubts morph into enthusiasm; irritations settle and across time and space, a loving, playful connection forges between us.

The story needed to be told because Muriel said it did. She was a dead ordinary woman with a life cut short, yet she represented women labelled in 1940s Britain not just as difficult: but as ‘good-time girls’ and ‘home wreckers.’ She was hot-headed, loving, resilient, and principled: she thought that war was stupid; and was unafraid to call out the misogyny of some opinionated men in the chip shop queue: ‘Got herself pregnant? Never heard of that before. You’d better ring the papers.’ 
	I was influenced by Kate Atkinson’s Behind the Scenes at the Museum, whose protagonist starts her narrative from inside her mother’s womb, providing a poignant, witty story of her unfolding life using the omnipresent point of view. Alice Sebold’s Lovely Bones helped me to think about writing about the impact of loss from beyond the grave, and Doireann Ni Ghroifa’s  A Ghost in the Throat gave me a taste of a piece where the author included herself in her journey of researching and writing about a long-dead poet, doubting herself at times. This story was also about a woman who had been forgotten and overlooked.
	The story needed to be told for the adventure of the telling. In its writing, I trusted myself, the process, and the connection with my ancestor. Each day I sat at my desk with the loosest of plans listening to Muriel and putting her words to the page. The more I committed the more the stories came. Why her? Why this? Why now? I agree with Gurprakash, the Dutch, guitar-strumming yogi when he says, ‘The meaning is the experience.’
	Lastly, it needed to be told for my own growth. Writing as Muriel with her flaws and foibles has helped me to accept, love, and even revere, my ordinary self. To accept oneself fully, as Matt Haig writes in The Midnight Library ‘like the way you accept nature, a glacier or a puffin or the breach of a whale. And in so doing you find freedom.’ 
Above all, I wrote this because I wanted people to feel for Muriel, to feel for me, and for themselves.  To feel with compassion. And, as Matt Haig says: ‘Just to say your own truth out loud, is enough to find others like you.’

year: 2022

title: Te Arawa– Kaitaki of Te Arawa Lakes

authors: Curtis, Sir Toby

abstract: The Te Arawa Lakes Trust has embarked on a project to develop a Te Arawa Cultural Values Framework, in regard to the 14 lakes located in our tribal region. There are a host of positives that we believe can accrue as an outcome of this exercise. Already the calibre of people acknowledged for their cultural expertise have added a lot by their attendance. Their presence and contribution injected a level of enthusiasm and confidence in the compilation of the final draft. It is hoped that distribution among the wider community will elicit constructive feedback.

text: Te Arawa– Kaitaki of Te Arawa Lakes The Te Arawa Lakes Trust has embarked on a project to develop a Te Arawa Cultural Values Framework, in regard to the 14 lakes located in our tribal region. There are a host of positives that we believe can accrue as an outcome of this exercise. Already the calibre of people acknowledged for their cultural expertise have added a lot by their attendance. Their presence and contribution injected a level of enthusiasm and confidence in the compilation of the final draft. It is hoped that distribution among the wider community will elicit constructive feedback.

year: 2015