Day Two keynote speaker Dr. Patrick Makokoro brings a global, justice-centred lens to the Sḵwx̱wú7mesh Early Years Conference with his keynote, Inclusion: Shaping the Future through Community-Centred Pedagogy. Drawing on the HuUbuntu philosophy — “I Am Because We Are” — Patrick invites educators to reimagine inclusion not as fitting children into existing systems, but as reshaping systems to honour every child’s right to belong. Grounded in an ethics of care and deeply aligned with Indigenous Coast Salish knowledge systems, his work challenges ableist assumptions in education and centres community voice, relationship, and joy as foundations for meaningful inclusion in the early years. We are excited to learn more about Patrick as he shares personal insights and experiences that have shaped his work.
Was there a moment in your life or career that first sparked your commitment to inclusion and community-centered work with children and families?
My commitment to inclusion and community-centred work really began with my own childhood experiences of exclusion and poverty in rural Zimbabwe, where access to early learning and basic services was deeply unequal. Watching families and relatives struggle to secure food, fees, and safety for their children, while knowing how much human potential was being lost, planted a question in me very early: how can I work to ensure that all young children have a life that is full of possibilities?
Later, as a young social entrepreneur and community development practitioner visiting early childhood centres in under-resourced communities, there was a particular encounter with a caregiver who said, “We want the best for our children, but no one ever asks us what we think or how we want to support our children.” That moment crystallized for me that real transformation in early childhood does not come from experts arriving with solutions, but from standing alongside families and communities as co-creators of those solutions.
Since then, every project and network I have helped to build has been grounded in that early awakening: inclusion is not an abstract principle, it is the decision to listen first, to honour community knowledge, and to design early childhood spaces where every child, youth and families story matters and belongs.
You’ve worked alongside communities around the world. Can you share a story where collaboration truly changed the outcome for children or families?
One story that stays with me comes from work with my foundation (Nhaka Foundation) in a rural community where many young children were walking long distances to overcrowded primary schools, with almost no access to early learning, health checks, or regular meals. Rather than starting with a predesigned program, we brought together parents, traditional leaders, local teachers, youth, and health workers to map their own priorities for children. Through this process what emerged was a strong desire for a community-led early childhood centre that could also serve as a hub for nutrition and health services.
Another story too was my work with the Hope Starts Here Initiative and specifically the Detroit Champions of Hope Network in Michigan. In Detroit, many families were navigating intergenerational poverty, school underfunding, and the lingering effects of systemic racism. These challenges, while contextually different, resonated deeply with experiences in African communities where I had previously worked on early childhood initiatives.
Through dialogue and practical collaboration, we adapted community-driven approaches from African ECD programs, such as centring family voice, integrating cultural narratives, and building local leadership—to support work with children and families in Detroit neighbourhoods. The Detroit Champions of Hope, faith communities, educators, and community organizers co-created spaces where children could access mentoring, and culturally affirming experiences, while caregivers were engaged as partners and leaders rather than “recipients” of services.
Empathy is central to your approach. How do you stay grounded in empathy when working across different cultures, systems, and challenges?
Staying grounded in empathy begins for me with remembering that every policy debate, funding decision, or program design ultimately lands in the everyday life of a child and family, not in an abstract system. Lived experience, in this case my own and that of the communities I come from also keeps me close to the realities behind the data and reports. I often enter each context asking, “What does this feel like for the child, the parent, the educator?”
Working within complex systems such as governments, NGOs and universities for example, empathy also means holding tension: speaking truth about injustice while refusing to reduce anyone to a villain or a victim. I try to stay curious about what constraints others are facing, and to frame conversations around shared hopes for children rather than blame. Finally, regular reflection, my spiritual practice, and staying connected to community back home helps me to recalibrate.
My goal is not to be the hero in someone else’s story, but to walk alongside people with humility, dignity, and deep respect.
You often challenge traditional systems of inclusion. Can you share an example where re-imagining the system — rather than the child — led to meaningful change?
One powerful example comes from work alongside the Detroit Champions for HOPE, as part of the broader Hope Starts Here early childhood initiative. In Detroit, families consistently said that the “problem” was not their children, but a fragmented system that did not listen to parents, lacked culturally affirming spaces, and made navigating services exhausting and dehumanizing. Instead of asking how to “fix” children’s behaviour or “train” parents, the question became: how can the system recognise parents as first teachers and leaders, and reorganise itself around their knowledge and realities? This led to the establishment of the Detroit Champions for HOPE network, re-imagining the system in a way that shifts power to communities. Importantly this work continues to inspire me from a system alternative lens wherein the communities can showcase their brilliance, aspirations and resilience as they work to look after their children and youth.
As we reflect on progress and shape the future of early childhood education, what gives you hope and what do you hope educators carry forward from this conference?
What gives me the most hope is that, wherever the work has taken me, educators and communities keep showing up for children with courage, creativity, and love, even in the face of austerity, conflict, or systemic neglect.
From this conference, the deepest hope is that educators carry forward three things.
First, a renewed commitment to seeing children not as problems to be managed or futures to be engineered, but as present citizens and knowledge-holders whose questions, play, and relationships can guide our pedagogy.
Second, the conviction that inclusion requires us to redesign systems, not the children. I hope there is deeperquestioning onwhose voices are missing, whose knowledge counts, and how policies and everyday practices can be reshaped in solidarity with families and communities.
Finally, my hope is that educators leave with companions, not just strategies! Develop new networks of colleagues who will continue thinking, dreaming, and struggling together long after the conference ends. When educators stay connected across schools, communities, and even continents, they can hold one another accountable to justice-centredpractice while also sharing joy, rest, and inspiration.