A Career Dedicated to Education’s Most Vulnerable
Ask Janine Harrington about her career, and she’ll tell you it was simply “rewarding and interesting.” But the truth is more complex. Over three decades, her work has reshaped how education can support those most at risk - from prison learners to neurodiverse children with complex needs.
As a recently appointed Member of the New Zealand Order of Merit (MNZM) in the 2025 Honour List, Janine makes one thing clear – her recognition belongs to many.
“My work was never done alone,” she says. “I hope the award helps raise recognition of the many people who do the hard work in prisons and special education.”
Looking back on her life, many parts of her future were pre-determined from a young age. She grew up in a family where contribution to community mattered more than status or recognition. Her mother, an avid reader without formal tertiary education, and her grandmother, deeply involved in te ao Māori, both received Community Awards for their voluntary service.
Her mother would always say, “We have all we need,” which, Janine recalls, they did.
Her father worked long hours as a prison cook at Rolleston Prison, often on Christmas Day. Some of Janine’s earliest memories involve travelling with him out to the prison and being fed generous helpings of ice cream and jelly by prisoners missing their own children.
Those early experiences left a quiet imprint, even as her teenage years were marked by independence and a growing frustration with teachers who failed to connect.
“I was looking forward to my future,” she says, “but I was definitely not enjoying teachers who did not connect with me.”
When a school careers adviser discouraged her from applying to Teachers’ College, Janine took it as motivation. She was accepted, and became the youngest student in her cohort, and the first in her extended family to attend tertiary education.
Teachers’ College was both overwhelming and formative. Janine immersed herself in every opportunity she could, working across a range of schools and consistently gravitating toward lower‑decile settings. She took night classes in te reo Māori, guitar, and other skills she believed could make her “more valuable to learners,” while working three part‑time jobs.
She graduated with a Dean’s Recommendation for Outstanding Studies, later completing her Bachelor of Education and receiving awards in Education Studies and Māori and Indigenous Studies.
Her first classroom role was a baptism of fire. Well‑meaning colleagues offered warnings about students’ past behaviour, but Janine quickly learned that expectations - positive or negative - could shape outcomes.
One student was described as a “neighbourhood thief”. Janine’s solution? Inviting them to become the class police officer. Nothing was stolen that year.
Other lessons were harder. Janine recalls days returning home in tears, carrying the weight of what her students were going back to.
“Before children can regulate themselves enough to learn,” she says, “they might need a bit of aroha and food.”
She noticed students arriving early and staying late, reluctant to leave what was often the safest place in their day.
Those early years shaped Janine’s understanding of safeguarding as a foundational responsibility of teaching. For some learners, education was not just about learning outcomes, but about protection, stability, and care - and teachers were often the first adults to notice when something wasn’t right.
After two years, declining school rolls left Janine unemployed. Even before that, she had been drawn toward working with adults, believing that lasting change for children often begins with parents and caregivers.
That belief led her to Corrections, where she was appointed Resource Centre Manager to establish the first prison library at Rolleston Prison. After only six weeks, she built the centre from scratch. Everything from shelving and software to accumulating every book.
The centre exceeded expectations and became a foundation for broader programme work. At just 23, Janine was selected as one of the first New Zealand staff trained to deliver a Canadian Cognitive Skills programme.
It quickly became clear that the programme, which relied on public disclosure and group sharing, was culturally misaligned.
“When participants were asked to talk openly about their problems, many Māori and Pasifika offenders physically withdrew,” she says. “Cultural safety and trust had to come before disclosure.”
Working alongside tikanga experts, Janine helped adapt the programme for Aotearoa, shifting both content and approach. Later work at the Women’s Prison reinforced another lesson.
“They told me there would be no respect for a textbook teacher,” she recalls. “They taught me to work with people first, not the lesson plan.”
Over time, Janine managed education programmes across prisons and probation services from Wellington to Invercargill. But the further she moved into management, the more distance she felt from learners themselves.
That realisation prompted her return to school leadership, becoming principal of Te Otu Matua Halswell Residential College (HRC), a national residential school for neurodiverse learners with complex needs.
At HRC, Janine led a deliberate shift away from compliance‑focused behaviour management toward a therapeutic, relationship‑centred model - recognising that environments built on control can unintentionally cause harm, particularly for neurodiverse learners with complex needs.
“Behaviour is communication,” she says. “Lasting change comes from support, consistency, and connection rather than control.”
The shift was reflected not only in practice, but in place. Dormitories were replaced with single bedrooms, institutional design gave way to warm, home‑like spaces, and the rebuild won an Australasian award for innovation in education.
Students flourished - academically, socially, and culturally. Parents were astonished to see their children returning home able to recite their mihi and teach te reo Māori to whānau.
Janine led HRC for 14 years. She became the first female principal and ultimately the longest‑serving through countless trials - Covid and deeply personal challenges, including her son’s battle with stage 4 cancer. When he went into remission, she says, “the joy belonged to all of us.”
Now principal of Pītau‑Allenvale School, one of Christchurch’s specialist day schools, Janine remains grounded in the same belief that has guided her entire career.
“At the heart of the best outcomes are strong, genuine relationships,” she says. “One teacher can be the spark that lights confidence, belief, and the courage to try.”
She continues to prioritise professional supervision, reflection, and collaboration - conscious that leadership carries responsibility, particularly in settings where learners are vulnerable and decisions can have lifelong consequences.
“When teachers lift learners,” she says, “they lift families, communities, and, ultimately, all of us.”
For Janine, that quiet, collective impact is reward enough - and the reason she continues to show up, day after day, alongside those whose work is so often unseen. Her career illustrates how supporting all aspects of wellbeing and safeguarding are not abstract concepts, but lived responsibilities enacted daily through professional judgement, cultural responsiveness, and care.
Written by Jenni Guzman.