About 25 years ago (!) I ranted about the “bloated curriculum.” I argued that the centrality of public schools in students’ lives makes it all too convenient to look to schools to address problems that extend well beyond their scope. I wrote, “when teen suicide rises, unsafe driving causes preventable deaths, or sexual abuse becomes a matter of public concern, the school is often treated as the institution responsible for addressing the problem.”

What prompted me to revive that rant was an article on a proposed school-based water-survival mandate involving an MLA who plans to introduce a bill “to ensure every child leaves elementary school with basic water survival skills that could one day save their life.” I have no doubt that the initiative is well intentioned. No one wants to see anyone drown, and schools are seemingly convenient places for teaching water-survival skills. But are they the right place?

An outcome should not become a school responsibility simply because it is socially valuable, preventive, or potentially lifesaving. Many things meet that test, including first aid, overdose response, online safety, nutrition, emergency preparedness, road safety, parenting, and other socially desirable competencies. A curriculum cannot simply accumulate them all without eventually becoming incoherent and unmanageable.

There is also an important distinction between water-safety knowledge and practical water-survival competence. Water-safety knowledge could fit within the physical and health education curriculum. It might include recognizing hazards, wearing personal flotation devices, behaving safely near water, responding to emergencies, and understanding personal limits. Practical survival competence is different because it requires pools or safe, open-water settings, trained instructors, appropriate supervision ratios, transportation, changing facilities, accessible programming, insurance and risk management, and accommodations for students with disabilities, trauma histories, religious concerns, or limited to no swimming experience.

At a minimum, proposals to add still more to an already over-stuffed curriculum should have to answer several questions. Are schools uniquely positioned to deliver the outcome, or are they merely the most convenient public body? If new instruction is mandatory, what curricular content, planning time, or other school activity will it displace? Will the new material require teachers to acquire specialized expertise and provide specialized instruction? Do all districts have the infrastructure or facilities partnerships that may be required?

The issue, then, is not whether water-survival skills are valuable. They are. The issue is whether a provincewide guarantee of access must take the form of another mandated responsibility for schools and teachers. As I mentioned, teaching students to recognize water hazards may fit within health and physical education. Providing and assessing practical survival skills is a more specialized undertaking.

If government believes every child should have access to such instruction, it should say so plainly and create a properly funded public program to provide it. Schools may be sensible partners in identifying students and organizing access, but they need not become the default delivery mechanism for every worthwhile social, health, and safety objective.
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I use a range of large and small generative language models to review documents, develop search strategies, analyze information, locate legal, archival, and other relevant sources, produce images, and edit my blog posts.

Each school year offers a new beginning and an opportunity to reflect on past conduct and identify ways to improve. That is true for everyone . . . students, teachers, administrators, and school trustees.

As British Columbia approaches the general local elections on October 17, 2026, I am beginning this year’s blog series by reflecting on Canadian school boards that have experienced significant provincial intervention. High-profile examples include the 2025 dismissal and subsequent 2026 reinstatement of the Greater Victoria Board of Education, as well as the provincial supervision of several major Ontario school boards. These cases have brought renewed public attention to the responsibilities of elected school boards and the consequences that can follow when governments conclude that those responsibilities have not been fulfilled.

Provincial governments commonly justify such interventions by citing chronic financial mismanagement, persistent leadership breakdowns, failures to protect student safety, or insufficient attention to student achievement. The circumstances and merits of each case must be assessed individually. Nevertheless, when a board does not meet its legal obligations or maintain public trust, the consequences extend beyond the trustees directly involved because confidence in the broader public education system may also be weakened.

The fundamental responsibility of every school board is to act in the best interest of the school district. Although trustees must listen carefully to parents, staff, teachers, and community members, they must ultimately make decisions that serve the district, even when those decisions do not align with the preferences of particular stakeholders or their constituents. Their focus must remain on the collective good, with students’ educational needs and well-being at the forefront.

This responsibility extends beyond routine policymaking and budget approval. It requires trustees to advance the district’s needs, goals, and long-term mission. They must support quality instruction by adopting policies that promote effective teaching practices, maintain safe and welcoming schools through appropriate oversight of facilities and operations, exercise responsible stewardship of public resources, and ensure that public funds are directed efficiently and effectively toward student benefit.

Trustees must also act with integrity and honesty. They must disclose potential conflicts of interest, comply with applicable laws and policies, oversee budgets prudently, and support transparent decision-making through regular public reporting and accessible board meetings.

Effective governance also depends on collaboration. Trustees must share relevant information, consider diverse viewpoints, and make collective decisions that support a coherent vision for educational improvement. They are publicly accountable for the board’s decisions and should therefore be prepared to explain and defend those decisions, including when they personally disagreed with the position adopted by the majority.

Well-governed school districts place students’ educational needs and well-being first, exercise sound ethical judgment, remain accountable to the public, and foster cultures of trust and excellence throughout their schools. Recent provincial interventions demonstrate how serious the consequences can become when governments believe that these fundamental principles have been abandoned. They also emphasize why it is important that trustees remain focused on their central obligation: acting in the best interest of the school district.

The British Columbia School Trustees Association provides information and resources for current trustees and prospective candidates at: https://bcsta.org/elections/
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I use a range of large and small generative language models to review documents, develop search strategies, analyze information, locate legal, archival, and other relevant sources, produce images, and edit my blog posts.

Now that I am retired and, thus, no longer reading hand-written student examinations, I can say with some relief — and a bit of mischief — that it’s time to bring back Blue Books. Blue Books were staple-bound booklets of lined paper in which students responded to mid-term and final examinations. In many cases, the covers were blue. Sometimes they were white or green. Most of the people who are my age know them as Blue Books.

The opening line of this blog might have you thinking that I am being frivolous about recommending the use of Blue Books. I am not. The suggestion comes from decades of watching assessment practices shift in ways that have had unintended consequences for student learning and intellectual development.

Having to respond in well-constructed paragraphs to a set of questions, or in a well-constructed essay, would address a significant number of concerns about the deterioration of academic standards and performance. There is something irreplaceable about the cognitive demand of committing ideas to paper with no ability to cut, paste, or rephrase. You either know the material and can communicate it, or you can’t. The Blue Book is merciless in that regard, and mercifully honest.

Student use of online large language models is frequently cited as one of the causes of intellectual laziness and a measurable decline in critical thinking. This concern is legitimate, though the technology itself is not the villain. The absence of assessments that require unassisted thought is. Responding to problems in a hand-written essay demands mental effort, planning, and the kind of critical thinking that cannot be relegated to a chatbot mid-examination. The student must arrive prepared, think on their feet, and construct an argument in real time. That is an important outcome of education.

The data are not reassuring. Evidence from standardized tests documents a decline in both literacy and numeracy across age groups and jurisdictions. Complaints from employers who find it difficult to understand their employees’ written and oral communication provide additional anecdotal weight to what the numbers already suggest. Hand-written responses — even ones that are no more than a few sentences — require the writer to consider audience, purpose, and structure. They require a person to think before they write, and to revise through thinking rather than through deletion. Those are foundational skills.

June was typically accompanied by two emotions: anticipation and anxiety. Both served a purpose. By June, students are already mentally halfway to summer, counting down the days to longer evenings, fewer obligations, and the freedom that only a school break can provide. But they also knew, with a clarity that focused the mind, that summer’s pleasures were not yet theirs. Standing between them and freedom were final comprehensive, cumulative, and unforgiving examinations. Remember them?

The knowledge that performance had real consequences was itself a form of education. Learning to manage anticipation and anxiety, to prepare systematically under pressure, and to demonstrate mastery on demand are important life skills. Bringing back Blue Books would help recapture some of the rigour that has quietly eroded from assessment, and with it, the genuine sense of accomplishment that comes from proving to yourself and your teacher that you had actually learned something

The Blue Book will not solve every problem in education. But reintroducing any assessment format that requires students to demonstrate unassisted, coherent, written thought would be a meaningful step in the right direction. The Blue Book is not the point; the mental effort required is.

Given the subject of this blog, the arrival of visitors, and plans to explore a small portion of the province before school is out, this will be the last blog of this school year.

I hope you enjoy the next few months.

I look forward to resuming the blog at the start of the new school year.

Student results are often treated like a verdict on schools. If results look strong, schools are praised; if they look weak, schools are blamed. That story is simple . . . and misleading because it ignores most of what influences how well students do. Learning is not the product of a single classroom, or even a single school. It is the outcome of many interacting layers that surround each student.

The diagram above shows those layers as nested. At the base is student achievement, the knowledge and confidence students acquire. Just outside that are students, each of whom brings their interests, abilities, attitudes, health, motivation, background, and prior learning to every lesson. Around them is the peer group, where friendships, norms, a sense of belonging, collaboration, and the peer influences that help shape whether it feels normal to try hard, ask questions, and aim high.

The next layer is the classroom, where day‑to‑day teaching happens. Teacher practice, curriculum, instruction, feedback, classroom climate, and time management all play a direct role in what students learn. Classrooms are located within schools that provide vision and leadership, distribute resources, build culture, set policies, engage families, schedule events, and administer discipline. Strong schools create conditions where effective classrooms are more likely to flourish and to be sustained over time.

Beyond the school are influences that are educationally significant, even though they are not formally part of the education system. Families shape home support, routines, language use, parenting style, books and learning materials, expectations, and advocacy for their children. Families live in communities that differ in safety, economic conditions, social capital, available resources, neighbourhood characteristics, employers, and services. Changes in any of these layers can strengthen or weaken the others.

The key point is that many of these influences are amenable to change through policy and practice. We can fund early learning, support families, invest in great teachers, and provide rich curricula. We can work to ensure safe, healthy communities, address inequities, and build partnerships across sectors. When better policies are combined with strong practice across multiple layers, students are more likely to experience better outcomes. Instead of asking, “What are schools doing wrong?”, a more realistic and hopeful question is “How can communities, families, schools, and classrooms each use the levers they control to support student achievement?”

The first thought that came to mind when I heard about private career colleges granting accreditation to commercial truck drivers who had not completed the minimum training requirements was never drive on the Trans-Canada Highway again. According to a report from the Office of the Auditor General of Ontario, some private trucking schools issued certificates to students who had not completed the mandatory hours of instruction required under Ontario’s Mandatory Entry-Level Training (MELT) program. In some cases, attendance records were inaccurate, course documentation was incomplete, and students were certified despite receiving substantially less training than required.

Nor was I reassured to learn that the report also documented significant flaws in Ontario’s testing regime. The Auditor General identified weaknesses in the oversight of third-party driver examination centres, including inconsistencies in testing practices, inadequate monitoring of examiners, and failures to investigate suspicious testing patterns in a timely manner. In some instances, examiners passed candidates despite procedural irregularities or inadequate demonstration of required competencies. The report also raised concerns about possible fraud, including unusual pass rates and testing anomalies that should have prompted closer regulatory scrutiny.

What troubled me most, however, was that these problems persisted despite the existence of a Ministry responsible for oversight. The issue was not simply misconduct by a few training providers or examiners. It was also a failure of public administration. Standards existed. Regulations existed. Reporting requirements existed. Yet the Ministry failed to monitor compliance effectively, failed to identify obvious warning signs, and failed to intervene early enough to protect the public. A regulatory system is only as credible as its oversight.

You may be wondering why I am writing about the preparation and testing of truck drivers in a blog about education. I have two related reasons. The first is that independent and consistent assessment of performance matters for public safety far beyond commercial transportation. Although usually not as immediately tragic as a collision on the Trans-Canada Highway, inadequate educational performance harms both students and the broader community. Critics of independent, standardized assessment often portray such measures as punitive or overly narrow. I see them differently. Properly designed assessments act as an early warning system that something may be wrong and deserves closer attention.

The second reason concerns oversight. In education, as in transportation, governments often establish standards and then assume that the mere existence of those standards guarantees quality. It does not. Standards without monitoring, verification, and consequences for non-compliance provide little protection to the public. One of the central responsibilities of any Ministry is not merely to announce expectations, but to determine whether those expectations are being met.

British Columbia once had an accreditation process for public schools. Under a Ministry-mandated six-year cycle, every elementary and secondary school conducted an internal self-study involving staff, administrators, and parents who evaluated programs and practices against provincial standards. Schools produced growth plans identifying strengths and areas needing improvement. External review teams then visited schools, confirmed or challenged the self-assessments, and submitted reports to the Ministry. Schools that successfully completed the process received accreditation and were expected to carry out the commitments set out in their growth plans. The process was intended to serve two purposes: internal school improvement and external public accountability.

The process did not work especially well. It was cumbersome and time-consuming. More important, in my view, it was aimed at the wrong level of the system. The focus should not have been individual schools, but school districts, the organizations responsible for creating the conditions under which students succeed academically. Still, the underlying principles of quality assurance and public accountability that informed the accreditation process remain sound, even though British Columbia no longer maintains such a system.

There is substantial variation among school districts in British Columbia with respect to student achievement and well-being. Some of that variation is associated with factors such as urbanity, family income, remoteness, and demographic composition. Where a child attends school in British Columbia has a significant influence on educational outcomes. That is precisely the kind of variability that a thoughtfully designed district accreditation process could help address, not by ranking districts against one another, but by evaluating them systematically against provincial standards, identifying where they fall short, determining why they fall short, and helping districts to develop and implement improvement plans.

At its core, accreditation is not about compliance for its own sake. It is about public confidence. The public has a right to know that institutions entrusted with important responsibilities, whether training commercial truck drivers or educating children, are meeting acceptable standards and are being properly supervised by the authorities responsible for overseeing them.

In many Canadian communities, candidates for school trustee campaign on promises that sound bold but reveal the candidate’s misunderstanding of the responsibilities of the office. “I’ll fire that principal,” one might say. “I’ll fix the school calendar,” says another. These may sound appealing to voters, but they reflect a fundamental confusion: trustees govern; they do not manage.

School boards in Canada are governance bodies. Trustees are not there to supervise teachers, rewrite curriculum, or resolve complaints about bus routes. They are elected to represent the public interest, set the overall direction for public education in their district, and hold the system accountable through the Board’s oversight function.

The distinction between governance and operations matters. When candidates campaign on operational issues, they mislead the public and risk undermining confidence in the board once elected. Voters may expect them to deliver on promises they have no power to fulfill, creating frustration and further eroding trust in the institution.

So what should trustee candidates be campaigning about?

Trustees govern in the public interest. That means it’s appropriate for candidates to articulate their values, what they believe public education should do and stand for. For example, a candidate might emphasize their commitment to inclusive schools, respect for Indigenous rights, or belief in the importance of early learning.

Trustees do not develop curriculum, but they do adopt local policies that shape the district’s approach to learning, safety, equity, and engagement. A trustee candidate might campaign on the need for more trauma-informed practices, a stronger commitment to reconciliation, or district-wide sustainability goals.

Rather than making promises about specific programs, candidates should base their platform on the principles that will guide their decisions on policy, budget, and board priorities. For example, “Regardless of background, identity, or ability, every student should have access to the support they need to succeed.”

Such priorities are well within the trustee’s mandate. They reflect an understanding that governance shapes what happens in classrooms, even if trustees themselves don’t make classroom-level decisions.

School boards don’t control how much money they receive from the province, but they do make decisions about how to allocate that funding within the constraints of the operating budget. A trustee candidate might focus on improving transparency, protecting funding for vulnerable learners, or evaluating how international student revenues are used.

What they can’t promise is to bring more money into the system. That’s the role of the province. Trustees can advocate to the Ministry, for example, to commit to increasing funding.

One of the most important roles of a trustee is to represent the community. That includes listening carefully, making informed decisions, and being accountable to the public. Candidates who campaign on improving transparency by holding town halls, simplifying board communications, or livestreaming meetings, for example, would be campaigning on the core of the governance role.

A good trustee understands that trust is earned through clarity and accessibility, not control.

Trustees can and should build partnerships. They can work with local First Nations, community organizations, and other levels of government to support better outcomes for students. Candidates might campaign on a commitment to strengthening these partnerships or on advocating for system-level changes that reflect their district’s needs.

Again, the key distinction is that trustees do not act as managers of the system. They act as governors: stewards of the public interest, not agents of daily operations.

Some other examples of what candidates should avoid include: “I’ll oppose that new math program,” “I’ll fight for a new school in your neighbourhood,” and I’ll change the Pro-D schedule.”

These are decisions made by school district staff within the policy and budget frameworks established by the board. A candidate who promises these things misunderstands the position or is hoping voters won’t notice.

Campaigning for school trustee in Canada is a chance to affirm the importance of public education. It’s also a test of whether candidates understand the limits and possibilities of the office. Trustees can’t run the system, but they can lead it.

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For those contemplating running for school board trustee in the October 2026 election, the British Columbia School Trustees Association has produced a guide: www.bcsta.org/elections

Although BC’s municipal elections for school board trustees won’t be held until October 17, 2026, the election period began in January with individuals and groups preparing to seek office.

At the Annual General Meeting of the British Columbia School Trustees’ Association held in April 2026, Education Minister Lisa Beare appealed to potential candidates: “British Columbia requires strong advocates for public education. Your voice is crucial in shaping our communities.”

In Vancouver, the city’s left-leaning political parties are coordinating their efforts. The Coalition of Progressive Electors (COPE) and the Green Party of Vancouver have agreed upon a division of candidacies for the Vancouver School Board, with COPE and Greens each fielding up to four candidates, and OneCity putting forward up to five contenders for the nine trustee seats at stake. The forthcoming Vancouver contest will also have candidates from ABC Vancouver, the Vancouver Liberals, TEAM for a Livable Vancouver, and the Conservative Electors Association.

Among the most active groups preparing specifically for the school board elections is ParentsVoice BC, a centre-right elector organization founded in June 2022. In their inaugural election, they successfully elected three trustees and plan to field candidates in all 60 school districts. Their stated objective is to elect a majority of trustees on a majority of the province’s school boards by the year 2030.

How candidates present themselves has consequences. Campaigns built around criticism of the very boards that candidates seek to join do more than differentiate candidates. They shape public expectations about governance, affect confidence in district decision-making, and influence the conditions under which boards must later operate.

“Running against the board” illustrates the problem. As a campaign strategy, it may mobilize support. As a governing posture, it undermines the institution the trustee seeks to join. Persistent public disparagement of the board can erode confidence among parents, staff, and partners.

Holding public office entails two roles that are not identical. As candidates, individuals seek support from voters who share or can be persuaded to share their views. As trustees, they assume duties to all residents of the district and must commit to acting in the school district’s best interest. The change is not symbolic. It alters the relevant audience, the decision criteria, and the standards of accountability.

The transition is demanding. Trustees operate within a governance model in which authority rests with the board acting collectively, not with individual members. Constituents, however, often approach trustees with school-specific concerns and expect direct intervention. Declining to act on individual requests can carry perceived political cost, especially for newly elected members. Yet acting on such requests, or implying that one can, misrepresents the office and weakens the board’s capacity to govern coherently.

Some candidates do not distinguish between the demands of electoral politics and the responsibilities of governance. Others recognize the distinction but continue to act as if their electoral coalition defines their governing mandate. In both cases, the result is the same: the interests of the district are filtered through a narrower conception of representation than the office requires.

During the campaign, candidates should signal their understanding of the trustee role that they will be expected to perform in office. This does not preclude criticism, but it requires that criticism be framed in terms of governance, evidence, and feasible alternatives rather than in terms that delegitimize the institution itself. Second, trustees should invest early in setting expectations with constituents. Decisions are made by the board, operational matters are managed by the superintendent and staff, and the trustee’s role is to govern in the long-term interests of the district.

Serving as a school trustee is demanding precisely because it requires maintaining this distinction under electoral pressure. Where trustees continue to act primarily as advocates for their constituencies, they risk redefining the district’s “best interests” to match those constituencies. Where they make the transition to stewardship, they strengthen both the board’s effectiveness and public confidence in its decisions.

The British Columbia School Trustees Association has produced a guide for those interested in serving as a trustee: Click here

When I saw that one of the political parties in my community was holding a nomination contest, I was curious about what those seeking nominations for the school board might say to appeal to supporters. It turned out to be entertaining. Not quite a good drama or documentary, but enough to make the effort worthwhile. One candidate spent two minutes on theatre improvisation with audience participation. Another performed a magic trick.

As is typical at these events, we learned a bit about each person’s background. It was a well-educated group, with several candidates holding advanced degrees. They were articulate and, at times, engaging.

But these well-educated and well-spoken—sometimes entertaining—individuals did not distinguish themselves as potential school board trustees. The meeting took place just a few days after the Ontario government introduced a bill that, if passed, would make substantial changes to school board governance. That context made the absence of any serious discussion of governance more noticeable.

What surprised me most was that not one candidate mentioned student achievement or outcomes, which are the central responsibility of school trustees. No one suggested, for example, that they would try to understand why graduation rates are rising while performance in literacy and numeracy is declining in many districts.

There was some mention of “increasing student support,” but what that meant went unstated, and to what end was unclear. Presumably those who raised the issue had some evidence in mind, but they did not refer to it. I would have expected at least one candidate to say something like: “There are reports that students may need more support than is currently available. If elected, I will ask the board to request a report from the superintendent on whether existing supports are adequate.”

One candidate noted that she had been part of a community effort to persuade a previous board not to close the school her children attended. Although she did not say so directly, the implication was that she had already formed a view on school closures. It did not appear to occur to her that a trustee should avoid declaring a fixed position on matters that may come before the board.

Several candidates referred to equity. One pointed out that many specialized programs appear to be concentrated in a more affluent part of the district and implied that this should be addressed. But even here, the issue was framed as a conclusion rather than a question for investigation. A more appropriate approach would have been: “I am concerned about possible inequities in access to programs of choice and, if elected, I will ask the board to examine whether such inequities exist.”

No one expects detailed analysis in a two-minute appeal. Still, each candidate had clearly prepared remarks, and several referred to notes. What was missing was not polish but an understanding of the role. Instead of declaring positions, I would have preferred to hear some recognition of the trustee’s function and its limits.

Out of curiosity, I later read the candidates’ biographies on the party’s website. They confirmed my impression of a group with strong educational backgrounds and significant accomplishments. If elected, many will also need to manage real or perceived conflicts of interest. None of these appear disqualifying, and most could be addressed through disclosure and recusal.

Two cases seem more complex because they bear directly on labour relations and administrative accountability. Another involves a candidate who is employed by a ministry that has an ongoing relationship with the board. A fourth is involved in a non-profit that operates programs in the district. These situations are manageable, but only with careful attention to both actual and perceived conflicts.

I will have the opportunity to consider some of these prospective candidates again in October. For now, though, I left the meeting entertained but not reassured. The candidates are capable individuals, and they may well develop a better understanding of the office before the election. What was missing that evening was not talent or effort, but a clear grasp of how individual views translate into the collective responsibilities of a governing board.

The British Columbia School Trustees Association has produced a guide for those interested in serving as a trustee: Click here

In 2004, I wrote in Failing Our Kids:

School boards need to put their houses in order. They need to seek efficiencies and become more firmly engaged in the educational issues affecting their communities. If they fail to do so, they will continue to be reduced in number or eliminated altogether. Provincial governments can help steer school boards the right way by appointing the director of education (or superintendent of schools) in each local jurisdiction. Direct appointment will reduce the directors’ (or superintendent’s) dependence on local school trustees. This would make it easier for them to provide policy advice to local trustees from their knowledge base as educators (p. 233).

Twenty-two years later, the Government of Ontario has done something like that — but not quite. The gap between “something like” and “exactly right” is where the most interesting educational policy debate of the decade now sits.

Before evaluating the solutions, it is worth being clear about the problem. The Ford government’s justification for the Putting Student Achievement First Act, 2026 rests on documented governance failures. Eight Ontario school boards were placed under provincial supervision in less than a year due to financial mismanagement and governance dysfunction. The Brant Haldimand Norfolk Catholic DSB spent nearly $190,000 on a trustee trip to Italy that included art purchases, fine dining, and high-end hotels. A Toronto Catholic DSB trustee charged $7,000 in personal electronics to the public purse. Boards have also spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees fighting internal disputes: York Catholic DSB over $340,000, Grand Erie DSB at least $300,000, and Hastings and Prince Edward DSB $175,000.

Splitting the Director of Education (Superintendent) role is the reform I find most intellectually interesting, in part because it echoes a recommendation I made two decades ago. Ontario proposes dividing the role into two positions: a Chief Executive Officer (CEO), who must hold business qualifications and oversees finance and operations, and a Chief Education Officer (CEdO), who must hold pedagogical qualifications and focuses on student achievement. The CEO is hired by the district board of trustees but can only be terminated with Ministerial approval. The CEdO is appointed by the CEO.

Separating operational and financial accountability from educational leadership is conceptually sound. It mirrors governance structures in healthcare, other public-sector bodies, and school boards in British Columbia. Requiring pedagogical credentials for the CEdO ensures that educational decision-making remains in the hands of someone with formal expertise in teaching and learning. A Director of Education with a business background has no business implementing educational policy.

Critics are correct to argue that this creates a hierarchy in which financial considerations can override educational judgment. That is already the case in most large public institutions. The budget sets the outer limits of what is possible. The question is whether pedagogical expertise has a defined and protected role within that structure. Under this model, it does.

What this is not, however, is quite what I proposed in 2003. I argued for direct provincial appointment of directors of education, which would remove their dependence on local trustees and free them to provide evidence-based policy advice. Ontario’s version does something adjacent when it requires Ministerial approval for CEO termination, which introduces provincial oversight while preserving local hiring authority. That is a reasonable compromise, though it shifts some power toward Queen’s Park in ways that warrant attention.

Professionalizing collective bargaining has been evolving across most Canadian jurisdictions. In British Columbia, the BC Public School Employers’ Association (BCPSEA) is the single, centralized employer representative for all school boards in provincial bargaining, a structure that has brought consistency and professional labour relations expertise to the table. Under the current Ontario model, by contrast, the four trustees’ associations negotiate central collective agreements on behalf of school boards. People whose primary role is representing elected trustees make the key labour relations decisions that govern teachers and education workers. The Council of Ontario Directors of Education (CODE), which represents the administrators who actually implement those agreements, is involved but subordinate. The Act shifts central bargaining authority to CODE. This is a reform the school board sector itself has called for, and it makes sense. A single employer representative for all 60 English-language boards brings some needed consistency to what is now a fragmented bargaining structure, and brings Ontario closer to the kind of centralized model BC has long relied upon.

In 2015 Ontario extended B.Ed. programs from one year to two years largely in response to teacher oversupply. The province now faces the opposite problem: a growing teacher shortage, especially in French-language and technical education. Returning to a three-semester, 12-month model responds to that supply pressure. Teachers’ groups have broadly welcomed the change, noting that it aligns with the system that existed in Ontario for decades before 2015. The projected savings of up to $3,000 in tuition costs may also make teaching more accessible to candidates from lower-income backgrounds. That is a modest but meaningful equity effect.

The commitment to establish a minimum practicum length beyond the current requirement deserves particular attention. Ontario currently has one of the shortest practicum periods in Canada, at roughly eight weeks. Other provinces range from 14 to 24 weeks. Longer academic programs do not necessarily produce better teachers on their own, but more extensive practicum experience tends to improve both readiness and retention, especially if there is continuity of experience in the same classroom(s). Teachers who spend more time in classrooms during preparation are more likely to remain in the profession. The Ontario Teachers’ Federation has advocated for 100 days of practicum within a one-year program, and the Ontario Minister has indicated an intention to move toward one of the longest practicum requirements in the country. This is the reform in the package most likely to affect classroom outcomes.

Ontario also plans to address an issue that affects many jurisdictions: inconsistent examination formats, schedules, and final mark calculations across schools and boards. A student in one school whose teacher weights exams heavily competes for postsecondary admission with a student in another school where exams carry little weight. Mandating written exams on designated days and clarifying how final marks are calculated should reduce that variation. This is not a dramatic policy shift, but it is a sensible one.

Making attendance and participation worth 15% of final marks in Grades 9–10 and 10% in Grades 11–12 is the area where I have the most serious reservations. The intent is understandable. Post-pandemic attendance has declined, and it correlates with weaker academic outcomes. Some response is needed. Embedding attendance in the grade, however, functions more as a compliance mechanism than as an educational intervention.

Research distinguishes between at least two forms of absenteeism. Some students disengage because they find school irrelevant. Others miss school because they work to support their families, face mental health challenges, lack stable housing, or have caregiving responsibilities. An attendance-based grading policy treats both groups the same. For the second group, it adds an academic penalty to existing barriers.

Students with frequent unexcused absences are often those who require more flexible pathways, not additional penalties. While the policy exempts absences for illness, religious observance, and Indigenous traditional activities, it places the burden of documentation on students and families.

A more effective response to chronic absenteeism would focus on early identification, targeted outreach, flexible scheduling, and access to mental health supports. Those measures address the causes of absence rather than its symptoms. Adjusting a percentage in the gradebook is unlikely to change attendance patterns on its own.

This commentary has not addressed every element of the proposed legislation. The broader lesson, however, is familiar. When school boards fail to manage their responsibilities, whether in governance or student outcomes, provincial governments will step in . . . even if it takes them some time.

In last week’s blog post, I explained principles that described how school‑age students learn. This post tackles the practical question: What kinds of instruction can best operationalize those principles in real classrooms?

Five complementary approaches to instruction are strongly supported by research and, taken together, give a practical toolkit aligned with the principles: direct Instruction, cognitive load theory, mastery learning and assessment for learning, structured cooperative learning, and self‑regulated learning.

Direct Instruction is based on the principles related to prior knowledge retrieval. Direct Instruction lessons are explicit and highly interactive. Content is broken into small, carefully sequenced steps. The teacher models new skills. Students respond frequently. Feedback is immediate and previously taught material is frequently reviewed.

In terms of the principles from my previous post, direct instruction builds on prior knowledge by sequencing content from simple to complex and using cumulative review to keep schemas active. It encourages active retrieval through choral response and rapid questioning, implements spacing by revisiting material day after day, and uses worked examples followed by guided and then independent practice to move from demonstration to autonomy. Frequent, task‑focused feedback, and explicit statement of lesson objectives align with what we know about formative assessment and clear success criteria. The strength of direct instruction lies in creating a high‑success environment where novice learners experience many small gains which have a visible impact on their achievement. ​

Cognitive Load Theory helps explain why direct (explicit) instruction works well. Cognitive Load Theory starts from the fact that working memory is limited, and that teaching must minimize unnecessary cognitive load while still challenging students to build new knowledge structures. This has led to effects that have been replicated across age groups and subjects: the worked‑example effect (students learn more efficiently by studying fully worked solutions before solving problems on their own), the modality effect (use of both visual and auditory channels), and segmenting and signaling effects (breaking content into manageable chunks and highlighting key information).

For classroom teachers, this approach connects directly to several principles from my prior post. Cognitive Load Theory deliberately activates prior knowledge by helping students plug new ideas into existing schemas rather than trying to remember isolated facts. Cognitive Load Theory uses dual coding and good multimedia use by recommending coherent, well‑aligned combinations of text, visuals, and audio that avoid irrelevant, decorative distractions. With Cognitive Load Theory novices receive more worked examples and reduced extraneous load, while more experienced students tackle varied, less scaffolded problems. When pupils are shown how to decide when they need an example, when they are ready for independent practice, and how to manage their own mental workload, Cognitive Load Theory becomes a stepping stone toward metacognition and self‑regulated learning. In short, Cognitive Load Theory is an approach teachers can use to select material that balance cognitive limits and the need for challenge.

Mastery Learning divides instruction into units with clear objectives. Students learn a unit, complete a formative assessment, and those who have not yet reached a predetermined level receive corrective instruction before being reassessed. Pacing is flexible. The goal is that all students reach mastery before moving on.

Seen through the lens of the principles described in last week’s post, mastery learning is a concrete approach to active retrieval, spacing, feedback, clear goals, and deliberate practice. Diagnostic assessments and unit tests help to reveal students’ current schemas and misconceptions, helping teachers to begin instruction from what students know and can do. Frequent short quizzes provide retrieval practice, and the pattern of teaching, assessment, correction, and reassessment spaces practice over days and weeks instead of compressing it into last‑minute review. Mixed‑topic reviews and cumulative tests should deliberately combine material from several units. Mastery learning places assessment and feedback at the centre of teaching. Assessment and feedback are the mechanisms that drives corrective instruction, clarifies success criteria, and helps students focus their effort where it matters. ​

Cooperative Learning brings the social side of learning to the fore. Decades of work have shown that when group work is well designed with positive interdependence, individual accountability, and group goals, it can improve both achievement and social outcomes. The best results are achieved when roles, tasks, and assessment are carefully laid out.

In relation to the principles in last week’s blog, cooperative learning is a way to organise elaboration, self‑explanation, feedback, motivation, and classroom climate. When students explain ideas to their peers, they must clarify and reorganize their own thinking. Listening to classmates exposes them to different ways of understanding the same content. Planning, monitoring, and problem solving in groups invite metacognitive discussion when students help one another notice confusion and plan next steps. Peers provide immediate, low‑stakes feedback, often spotting misunderstandings before they become entrenched. When group goals and individual accountability are planned well, the approach fosters motivation and autonomy by giving students meaningful roles and some choice within clear boundaries. Over time the approach can help create a classroom climate in which relationships are strong enough for students to take intellectual risks. ​

Self‑regulated Instruction makes the learners’ own regulation of learning the focus of instruction. In this approach, students are taught to set goals, plan how to reach them, choose and adjust strategies, monitor their understanding, and reflect on the outcomes they have achieved. Instruction focuses on self‑testing, summarizing, elaborative questioning, or self‑explanation, and often organizes them in a sequence so that students know when and why to use each method.

In terms of the principles, self-regulated learning is the most direct way to teach active retrieval, spacing, interweaving, desirable difficulties, metacognition, and deliberate practice. When students learn to quiz themselves rather than reread their notes, they are implementing retrieval practice. When they are taught to plan their studying over several days, they are implementing spacing rather than cramming. When they build mixed problem sets or combine topics, they are practicing interweaving. Methods which feel harder to students like retrieval or explaining ideas in one’s own words produce better long‑term learning, helping them perceive their effort and struggle as positive signs. Because the approach involves setting personally meaningful goals and experiencing more control over how to reach them, it also supports motivation and autonomy especially for adolescents who are sensitive to control and choice. ​

These five approaches are not in competition. They are complementary ways of enacting the principles of learning described in my last post. Direct Instruction and Cognitive Load Theory are particularly effective for introducing new material and supporting novices through worked examples, clear explanations, and guided practice that respect cognitive limits. Mastery Learning provides a structure for using retrieval, spacing, assessment, feedback, and clear goals across units and school years, rather than only within single lessons. Cooperative Learning adds the relational and motivational dimensions that help students elaborate on ideas, support each other, and build a positive classroom climate. Self‑regulated Instruction equips students, especially more mature students, to take these principles into their own hands when they study, revise, and learn independently.

A long tradition in teacher preparation programs is that teachers learn about teaching and learning. Without such a requirement teachers would depend on endless trial and error to develop instructional methodologies aligned with how school-age students learn. That would be inefficient and potentially harmful.

There is a relatively small set of principles that explain how children and adolescents learn most effectively. The principles generalize across ages, subjects, and contexts. And, with small differences they can be implemented effectively at different developmental stages. I’ll summarize the principles in this blog post. In my next blog, I will explain the five complementary instructional approaches for which there is strong empirical support that are best aligned with the principles. In other words, evidence-informed instructional approaches.

Learning Builds on Prior Knowledge and Schemas: New learning is constrained by what learners already know. Instruction that prompts students’ prior knowledge and relates new knowledge to the way the prior knowledge is organized produces understanding and transfer. In practice, teachers of students aged 4 to 8, should use concrete experiences, stories, and familiar contexts and explicitly link new vocabulary or concepts to children’s existing experiences. For students in upper primary and secondary, teachers should begin lessons by probing what students already think and then deliberately tie new content to these mental models.

Active Retrieval Strengthens Memory: Trying to recall information (via low-stakes quizzes, oral questioning, or self-testing) leads to more durable learning than additional study of the same material. For young children, playing simple recall games, asking “What did we learn yesterday?” and oral quizzes are effective practices. For older students, taking frequent low-stakes quizzes (daily) and cumulative tests (weekly and/or by unit), using flashcards, and testing themselves are effective techniques.

Spacing Practice Over Time Improves Retention: Learning distributed over days or weeks yields better long-term retention than massed learning (cramming), even when the total study time is the same. In other words, revisiting ideas over a period of weeks is more effective than “one-off” lessons.

Interweaving Practice Aids Discrimination and Transfer: Mixing different types of problems or topics (interweaving) produces better long-term performance and transfer than practicing one

type in a block Rather than giving long blocks of problems of the same type, a teacher should mix problem types (e.g., area, perimeter, fractions). With more mature students, teachers should combine different genres of reading, question types, or historical case studies so that students must decide which concept or strategy applies.

“Desirable Difficulties” Enhance Long-Term Learning: Requiring students to invest mental effort to reach an achievable goal slows progress but improves long-term retention and transfer. Teachers should normalize the idea that struggle is a signal of learning not of failure, but they should avoid “undesirable” difficulties (confusing instructions, excessive cognitive load, or tasks beyond the learner’s reach).My mother, who taught grade one for most of her teaching career, would tell students, “Learning to read is very hard, but I have never met a child who could not learn to read.”

Worked Examples and Faded Guidance Build Expertise: Studying step-by-step worked examples and gradually moving to partially completed and then independent problems (”fading”) is more effective than unguided problem solving, especially for beginners. When introducing new problem types, teachers should clearly annotate the worked examples. Over time, the teacher should gradually and methodically remove steps (fading) so students must fill in more of the solution process. Using open-ended problem solving or “discovery learning” should be used sparingly and only with learners with a mature understanding of the subject matter, ones who have copious prior knowledge.

Elaboration and Self-Explanation Deepen Understanding: Learning is strengthened when students explain ideas in their own words, connect new information to prior knowledge, and reason about why a solution or concept is correct. Effective teachers, ones whose students succeed in mastering the material to be learned, ask student to “explain your thinking,” or use prompts like “Why does this step work?” “How is this similar to yesterday’s problem?” or “How would you teach this to a younger student?”

Dual Coding and Well-Designed Multimedia Improve Learning: Students learn more deeply from words plus relevant pictures or diagrams than from words alone so long as the two are closely linked. However, it is important to avoid decorative or distracting images and splitting related information across distant locations (keep everything on the same page). Short videos or mini lessons are more effective than long presentations.

Metacognition and Self-Regulated Learning (SRL) Can Be Taught: The ability to plan, monitor, and regulate one’s own learning (metacognition/self-regulated learning) can be explicitly taught. Simple routines like “plan-do-review,” talking through how to check work, and modeling how to notice confusion are effective with younger learners. Older students should be taught how to set learning goals, plan, monitor, and evaluate what they have learned.

Feedback and Formative Assessment Guide Learning: Using assessment to adapt teaching and provide specific feedback (rather than simply assigning a grade) produces gains in achievement if the feedback is focused on the task and is provided close to the performance or demonstration instead of praising or complimenting the person.

Clear Goals and Success Criteria Focus Effort: Learners perform better when they understand what they are trying to achieve, how success will be judged, and can see examples of quality work. “We are learning to explain how fractions compare” not “We are doing page 43.”

Deliberate, Focused Practice Drives Learning: Practice is most effective when it is focused on specific goals, includes feedback, addresses current weaknesses, and is adjusted based on performance rather than repeating what is already easy. Practice should be aligned with what is being learned and focus on addressing mistakes or areas needing improvement.

Cooperative Learning Works When Well Planned and Administered: Collaborative and cooperative learning can significantly improve academic achievement, attitudes, and social outcomes when groups have clear goals, individual accountability, and appropriate tasks . . . when it is well planned and administered.

Motivation, Autonomy, and Task Value Support Engagement: Students learn more when they like the task, feel competent, and experience a sense of autonomy. These motivational factors shape their effort, persistence, and willingness to adopt effective strategies. Effectiveness is enhanced when teachers connect content to students’ lives and interests and can explain why a skill or concept matters. For upper adolescents, providing meaningful choices in tasks or products within boundaries established by the teacher promotes autonomy.

Classroom Climate and Teacher-Student Relationships Matter: A well-managed, emotionally supportive classroom and strong teacher-student relationships create conditions in which cognitive and motivational principles can operate effectively. Effective teachers establish predictable routines, clear behavioral expectations, and warm, respectful interactions.

Across the literatures devoted to cognitive psychology, educational psychology, and classroom-based interventions, the most robust, replicated principles for 4-18-year-old learners can be summarized as follows:

· Learning is an active, constructive process constrained by prior knowledge.

· Durable learning relies on how practice is organized (retrieval, spacing, interleaving, worked examples, desirable difficulties) not just how much time is spent.

· Students benefit when they are taught how to learn (metacognition) and when instruction is supported by high-quality feedback, clear goals, and well-designed media.

· Motivation, social context, and classroom climate are integral conditions that amplify or diminish the impact of these cognitive principles.

When I completed this blog, I looked for examples of the principles in practice in the many videos on YouTube. Examples exist, but they are of inconsistent length and quality. I decided that I wouldn’t link them. Perhaps the Ministry of Education and Child Care will consider producing such videos.

JUMP Math provides a clear illustration of evidence-informed instruction. Developed by John Mighton, the program integrates Direct Instruction, Cognitive Load Theory, and Mastery Learning into a coherent pedagogical approach. A large-scale randomized controlled trial in Canadian schools found that students using JUMP Math achieved significantly greater gains in mathematics fluency and problem-solving than peers using standard curricula. The gains were obtained in diverse classrooms taught by non-specialist teachers.[1]

At the heart of JUMP Math is a commitment to Direct (Explicit) Instruction, carefully sequenced teaching that includes modeling, guided practice, and immediate feedback. In a JUMP Math lesson about perimeter, for example, a teacher might begin by showing how to calculate the perimeter of a rectangle with all side lengths given. Students observe the teacher solving the problem step by step, with the teacher making each calculation explicit. The teacher asks students to solve a similar problem on their own, checking responses by having students hold up their answers on their whiteboards. The class proceeds through a series of increasingly complex problems like rectangles with one side length missing and, eventually, irregular shapes. At each stage, the teacher provides guidance, checks for understanding, and ensures students firmly grasp the concept before moving on.

This form of Direct Instruction takes into account the limits of working memory, a central concern of Cognitive Load Theory. Most learners can only manage a small number of unfamiliar elements at once. If a problem involves multiple unknowns, unfamiliar vocabulary, or an overly complex visual presentation, students will struggle because their cognitive system is overloaded.

JUMP Math addresses this by segmenting instruction into manageable parts, using consistent language, and eliminating extraneous information that may distract students such as colouring each shape with a different colour. Practice makes use of worked examples paired with blank spaces for students to solve similar problems. This allows students to focus on applying the demonstrated method rather than figuring out an unfamiliar process from scratch. For example, a page on subtraction might include a worked problem like “63 – 27 = 36” followed by a similar unsolved problem, “84 – 49 = ___” organized on the page to encourage comparison and reinforce the pattern.

Visuals, when used, serve a specific instructional function. In a unit on multiplication, for instance, students might begin by studying arrays of dots - three rows of four - to build a conceptual understanding of multiplication as repeated addition. The dots are paired with the corresponding multiplication statement (“3 × 4 = 12”). This approach, known as dual coding, helps learners connect visual and symbolic representations while reducing the likelihood of distraction from irrelevant images. Over time, the dots are eliminated, a process sometimes called fading the prompt.

Cognitive load is further managed through the careful control of language, especially in the early grades. Rather than complex, narrative-heavy word problems, JUMP offers straightforward formulations that focus attention on the mathematics. A problem such as “Maria has 45 apples. She gives away 18. How many are left?” is easier for young students to process than a problem expressed in a multi-paragraph story. As students develop both linguistic and mathematical fluency, the complexity of the language increases.

Mastery Learning, the third key component of JUMP Math, is built into the structure of the curriculum. Lessons focus on specific, narrowly defined learning objectives such as “Students will be able to subtract a two-digit number from another without regrouping.” Teachers assess whether students have reached this objective through repeated informal checks, asking students to solve a problem on paper, respond orally, or demonstrate understanding in some other concrete way. If a significant number of students show confusion, the teacher reteaches the concept before advancing. The aim is not to progress at a fixed pace, but to ensure that every student achieves the level of proficiency necessary to engage with new material.

Cumulative review is another essential element of Mastery Learning. Concepts are revisited each lesson as well as with weekly and monthly review. A student might first encounter basic fraction concepts in one unit, return to them later in the context of measurement, and encounter them again while working on probability. This kind of distributed practice has been shown to improve long-term retention more effectively than massed practice where material is taught intensively in a short time and then set aside.

The long-term effects of this approach were evident in a randomized trial. In Year 1, Grade 2 students in problem-based classrooms slightly outperformed their JUMP peers in problem-solving. By Year 2, however, JUMP students had overtaken them, making significantly greater gains. Among teachers who implemented the program with high fidelity, the differences were even more pronounced. These results support the core premise of Mastery Learning: that carefully sequenced, feedback-driven instruction builds strong foundational knowledge that ultimately enables more sophisticated reasoning.

JUMP Math does not claim to resolve every challenge of mathematics instruction. What it does offer is a compelling demonstration of evidence-informed instructional practice. Direct Instruction provides clarity and structure, Cognitive Load Theory ensures students are not overwhelmed, and Mastery Learning ensures that gaps in understanding are addressed rather than ignored. This complementary use of instructional methods makes success possible for a wide range of students because instruction is deliberately designed to help all learners meet the same learning goals and not because standards are lowered.

[1] Solomon T, Dupuis A, O’Hara A, Hockenberry MN, Lam J, Goco G, Ferguson B, Tannock R. (2019) A cluster-randomized controlled trial of the effectiveness of the JUMP Math program of math instruction for improving elementary math achievement. PLoS One. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/31665143/

British Columbia’s mathematics crisis (and yes, I think we can call it that) has been developing steadily for two decades. According to the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), B.C. students’ math scores declined by 42 points between 2003 and 2022, a loss equivalent to approximately two full years of learning. By the early 2020s, roughly 40 percent of B.C. students were not meeting numeracy expectations. This is deterioration in one of the foundational competencies that a public education system is expected to provide.

Poor achievement in mathematics has long term consequences. Early mathematical proficiency is strongly linked to later academic and economic outcomes. When a generation of students does not possess a solid numeracy foundation, there is a ripple effect through post-secondary education, the workforce, and in civic participation. Understanding why this is happening and, most important, identifying which levers of policy can be pulled is an urgent necessity.

The mathematical preparation of elementary and middle school teachers is a well-documented vulnerability in Canadian education. Many generalist teachers in elementary schools do not possess sufficient content knowledge in mathematics to instruct confidently or accurately. A C.D. Howe Institute report by Anna Stokke recommends requiring a minimum of 6 credit hours in mathematics content courses specifically designed for teachers preparing to teach in elementary schools coupled with rigorous math certification examinations.

These requirements do not exist in British Columbia. A teacher who is unclear about fractions, algebraic reasoning, or the conceptual underpinnings of place value cannot instruct students competently. Teacher preparation programs at B.C. universities do not require candidates to demonstrate mathematical proficiency as a condition of certification.

What students are expected to know and be able to do at each grade level in mathematics is murky. The 2016 version of B.C.’s curriculum shifted emphasis toward broader competencies. The intention was to develop deeper understanding, but the practical effect was to blur expectations about specific mathematics content. Critics point to the transition away from teaching skills, procedures, and algorithmic fluency toward a model in which children are encouraged to construct their own strategies and discover their own solutions.

Mathematicians solve novel problems precisely because they have internalized vast prior knowledge. Novice learners cannot replicate that process without first acquiring the requisite foundations. Clear, explicit curriculum expectations about what students must know at each grade level are mostly absent from B.C.’s current framework. To its credit the Ministry of Education recently introduced K-4 Foundation Learning Progressions in Mathematics and English Language Arts.

The introduction of the Learning Progressions seems a tacit acknowledgment that the design of the curriculum itself is a contributing factor to the decline in mathematics. B.C.’s curriculum has allowed teachers to emphasize inquiry-based and discovery-based learning at the expense of explicit instruction. A large body of research in cognitive science and educational psychology demonstrates that problem-solving ability is developed most effectively by explicit instruction that incorporates clear explanations, worked examples, purposeful practice, and feedback.

The C.D. Howe Institute has called on provincial governments to set clear evidence standards for math instructional programs prioritizing programs demonstrated through randomized controlled trials and peer-reviewed studies to produce measurable gains in student achievement. Apart from the introduction of the K-4 Learning Progressions, B.C. has not done this.

One of the most consequential policy decisions with respect to student achievement was the dismantling of the provincial examination system. B.C. students used to write course-specific provincial exams that comprised a portion of their final marks in Grades 10, 11, and 12. These exams communicated clear expectations to teachers and students, provided system-level data on trends over time, and created meaningful accountability for both learners and educators. B.C. students now write fewer standardized assessments than at any previous point. The data necessary to identify struggling cohorts early and intervene systematically has been greatly diminished. Without such accountability mechanisms, it is nearly impossible to determine whether any given instructional approach is working or to hold systems responsible for outcomes.

Mathematics instructional time in elementary schools is suggested but not mandated by provincial policy in B.C. Individual schools and teachers exercise discretion over how much time is allocated to mathematics versus other subjects. Moreover, it is likely that elementary school teachers who lack confidence in their ability to teach mathematics will devote less time to it.

Although the evidence for effective instructional approaches is compelling, the B.C. system lacks the mechanisms to mandate that teachers adopt them. Professional development in the province is largely voluntary and discretionary. The British Columbia Teachers’ Federation exercises considerable influence over the use of professional development days. Mandatory content-specific professional development in mathematics would likely face significant resistance. This creates a gap between what the research says works and what happens in classrooms. In contrast, jurisdictions that have successfully improved mathematics outcomes have invested in content-specific professional learning as a non-negotiable feature of system reform.

The distinction between identifying causes and identifying workable policy levers is crucial. In any complex public institution, not all contributing factors are equally amenable to policy intervention. Some are societal (screen time, family engagement, poverty). Others are deeply embedded in professional culture or collective agreements (the allocation of professional development days). But in the case of B.C.’s mathematics decline, the factors outlined above are, to a significant degree, within the reach of provincial policy.

The province controls teacher certification through the B.C. Teacher Certification Branch. The Ministry of Education has the authority to revise the standards that faculties of education must meet to have their programs approved, including requirements for minimum mathematics content coursework and demonstrated mathematical proficiency as a condition of certification. This is a direct, low-cost lever. Amending teacher certification regulations does not require new spending. It requires political will.

The provincial curriculum is a Ministry document. Revising it to reintroduce explicit learning outcomes for acquisition of basic math facts, to sequence foundational content with greater precision aligned to established benchmarks, and to incorporate evidence-based instructional approaches is within the government’s authority to accomplish. Curriculum revision is one of the most powerful levers available because it shapes what every teacher in every classroom in the province is expected to teach. The government abolished high-stakes provincial exams through policy. It can restore them through policy. ​

The province can establish standards that school districts must apply when selecting mathematics programs. This would not preclude teacher judgment or classroom flexibility, but it would ensure that the foundational instructional framework in every school meets a minimum evidence threshold. BC once had a process for reviewing instructional material review. It could reestablish one.

The situation is not hopeless. B.C. students are approximately two years behind where their counterparts were in mathematics twenty years ago. This gap widens with each successive cohort that passes through a system unwilling to address the problem. Some of the causes are known and well-documented. More important, most of the policy instruments required to address them are within provincial jurisdiction. What seems to be lacking is political will.

In School District 61 Greater Victoria, trustee elections will change from an at-large to ward model. On January 8, 2026, B.C. Education Minister Lisa Beare approved a change from at-large elections to seven Trustee Electoral Areas with nine trustees. Victoria and Saanich will each elect two trustees. Esquimalt Nation, Songhees Nation, Highlands and View Royal as a combined area, Esquimalt, and Oak Bay will each elect one. The model is scheduled to take effect for the October 17, 2026 local general election.

Under an at-large system, communities can find themselves without a trustee who lives their local realities. Populous or better organized areas can dominate board composition. Trustee Electoral Areas are an effort to reduce that distortion by making it more likely that smaller communities can elect someone of with their expereinces.

Research on Canadian local elections supports the common sense expectation that electoral structures shape what elected officials see as their job. In work comparing ward based and at-large systems in Canadian cities, Koop and Kraemer report that ward systems tend to increase emphasis on geographically specific representation, while at-large systems tend to encourage members toward a city wide frame or reference.

But ward design comes with an obvious governance risk. If trustees behave primarily as representatives of “their area,” boards can fragment if members pursue local interests rather than shared responsibility for district wide outcomes. A well known caution is Toronto District School Board. In her 2015 external review, Margaret Wilson described low trust and a pattern of trustee interference connected to “their schools in their wards.” She also noted trustees’ tendency to focus on “my schools” and “my constituents” instead of “the whole system,” describing the creation of “trustee fiefdoms.”

All seven of the Ontario boards under provincial supervision in February 2026 have some form geographic electoral representation. That electoral form did not create the circumstances leading to provincial intervention, but as Wilson’s report makes clear dysfunction can be exacerbated in ward based boards.

For School District 61 Greater Victoria, to succeed the board elected in October must create a culture that governs as one corporate body with district wide fiduciary duties. If SD61 wants the representation benefits without importing “ward first” habits, it will need explicit role discipline, ongoing coaching, chair leadership that keeps meetings focused on system goals, and regular review of board effectiveness and conduct. It will be challenging, but it can be done. The key is a disciplined focus on the students in the district.

Under British Columbia’s Teachers Act, the regulation of the teaching profession is divided among three distinct authorities: the BC Teachers’ Council, which sets professional standards for conduct and competence; the Director of Certification, who issues certificates of qualification based on completion of approved preparation programs; and the Commissioner for Teacher Regulation, who investigates conduct complaints and may suspend or cancel certification. This compartmentalization has created a regulatory gap: provincial accountability for instructional competence remains largely outside the reach of the regulatory body itself.

In practice, competence is assessed almost exclusively at the level of employment. Collective agreements require multiple observations, structured plans of assistance, and extensive documentation before a teacher can be terminated for underperformance.

The provincial regulator has never independently revoked a certificate on the grounds of instructional incompetence. Certificates have been surrendered only after employer-led evaluations deemed a teacher’s performance unsatisfactory, and even then, the process typically ends in a consent agreement rather than a formal revocation.

A further complication occurs when teachers identified as underperforming simply move to a new district before facing consequences. Their certification remains valid, and the receiving district may remain unaware of prior concerns. Although the Commissioner is empowered to initiate investigations into competency, that authority has been exercised almost exclusively in cases involving misconduct, not poor teaching.

The regulatory system protects students from egregious harms (violence, sexual abuse, or gross negligence) but is ill-equipped to address chronic instructional failure that undermines student learning over time. Addressing this blind spot requires three interconnected reforms: standards that focus on instructional competence, a professional examination prior to full certification, and an extended probationary period for new teachers.

British Columbia already has professional and certification standards. The challenge is not in their absence but in the limited mechanisms for enforcing them. One reform option would establish observable, measurable practices across career stages, converting the existing standards into competencies along the line I discussed in an earlier blog. This competency framework could be used as the foundation for a portfolio that teachers submit as evidence of meeting the competencies which is assessed jointly by employers and the BC Teachers’ Council (BCTC). Another possibility is creating a dedicated assessment unit within the BCTC to evaluate competence independent of the school district in which a teacher is employed.

A professional examination could evaluate knowledge of education law, ethics, professional obligations, and Indigenous reconciliation principles. This would not test pedagogical competence directly but ensure teachers understand the legal and ethical context of their role. Similar models are used in engineering and other regulated professions.

In parallel, performance-based assessments such as teaching portfolios or video evidence could provide an even more nuanced, practice-based assessment of competence especially for teachers moving into the province from other jurisdictions.

A formal, extended probationary period lasting two to three years would allow for more thorough evaluations of new teachers before they receive permanent certification. During this period, teachers would hold provisional certificates. Employers would assess competence using the BCTC’s framework, and the regulator would review those assessments before final certification. Mentorship and coursework could support teacher development while providing meaningful evidence of growth and capability. An appeal process would be necessary for teachers who do not pass probation, ensuring fairness and opportunities for remediation.

These reforms should be introduced in phases. The first phase would focus on refining and operationalizing the competency framework, including portfolio systems and career-stage benchmarks. The second phase would implement the probationary period, aligning employer evaluations with regulatory review. The third phase three would introduce the professional examination and performance-based assessments.

Complementary changes could enhance the integrity of the system. Districts should be required to share detailed competency evaluations when teachers transfer to another district or jurisdiction, and the BCTC should establish a capacity for independent investigation where employer assessments are incomplete or in dispute. Interprovincial certification agreements should be aligned to maintain standards while supporting inter-provincial mobility.

The current teacher regulatory regime in British Columbia lacks effective tools for addressing instructional incompetence apart from employer action. The reforms I have proposed - competency-based standards, a professional examination, and extended probation - would fill that gap. They also hold the potential to elevate the profession’s status in the public’s eyes. With higher expectations and greater accountability could come broader recognition of the profession’s importance.

Under the Teachers Act, the British Columbia Teachers’ Council (BCTC) holds statutory responsibility to “establish standards for the competence and conduct for applicants and for certificate holders.” The BCTC sets the Professional Standards that define what educators in BC must know and be able to do. However, the enforcement of those standards through investigation and discipline is carried out by the Commissioner for Teacher Regulation, an independent decision maker whose mandate is to ensure “concerns about teacher competence and conduct are addressed fairly and in the public interest”.

I examined the fourteen cases in the discipline database that were classified under the topic “competence” and the sub-topic “inappropriate teaching methodology.” What I found was a distinction between conduct violations dressed in competence language and actual instructional incompetence. None involved allegations of deficient subject-matter knowledge or faulty pedagogy in the instructional sense (poor sequencing, weak examples, failure to diagnose misconceptions, inadequate assessment). Instead, the cases involved contextually inappropriate activity choices, unsafe environments, failure to supervise, failure to respect cultural contexts, or serious boundary violations. There seemed to be four thematic subcategories: unsafe/inappropriate instructional activities; deficient classroom management; culturally/ethically insensitive methods; and serious boundary violations.

The disciplinary system is oriented toward protecting students and the public from harm, breaches of professional boundaries, and egregiously unsafe or disrespectful practices. It is not about ensuring that educators deploy evidence-informed instructional sequences, use appropriate assessments, or employ the most cognitively effective explanations. What engenders regulatory discipline is clear physical or psychological harm, serious breaches of professional boundaries, conduct that undermines trust in the profession, and egregious misjudgment. By contrast, poor content explanations, weak questioning technique, or poor assessment design, though important to instructional quality, do not meet the threshold for certification discipline but would be included in a performance appraisal.

The evaluation of teaching quality falls to school districts within boundaries established through collective agreements. The current evaluation language, remarkably uniform across districts, dates to 1988 when the evaluation process for teachers was removed from the School Act and teachers negotiated similar provisions in their collective agreements. These provisions typically establish a formal evaluation process that includes multiple classroom observations, opportunities for remediation through plans of assistance, and the possibility of termination following three consecutive “less than satisfactory” teaching reports over a period exceeding twelve months.

The collective agreement provisions detail exactly what the regulatory process does not: evaluations based on instructional competence criteria including subject matter knowledge, instructional strategies, classroom management, assessment practices, and professional conduct. Evaluators must conduct multiple observations (both pre-arranged and unannounced), hold pre- and post-observation conferences, provide opportunities for professional development and remediation, and document performance against explicit teaching standards. Only after this extensive process can a school board terminate a teacher for incompetent teaching performance.

Earlier decisions of the BCCT (the BC College of Teachers, predecessor to the current BCTC) detail several cases in which a license was revoked by consent agreement after the registrant received three “less than satisfactory” reports from their employer within the specified time period. These were instances where documented instructional incompetence at the employer-employee level led to regulatory consequences for licensure.

Leaving competence regulation solely to employers is not sufficient to safeguard the public interest. An employer’s authority is limited to the employment relationship between the teacher and the school board and does not extend to licensure. A teacher dismissed by one school district for incompetent teaching retains their BC teaching certificate and can legally seek employment in another district or province. Only the BCTC, through the Commissioner for Teacher Regulation, can revoke the license that is required to teach in BC and ensure that a teacher found incompetent doesn’t use their certificate to practice elsewhere.

To effectively carry out its statutory responsibility to regulate the competency of its license holders, the BCTC must establish the capacity to investigate a license holder whose competence is questioned. The Teachers Act grants the Commissioner broad investigative powers, including the authority to “initiate, on the commissioner’s own initiative if it is in the public interest, an investigation into the competency or conduct of an authorized person”. Investigations can be prompted by a report or complaint to the Commissioner from a school district, by a parent or student, or by a teaching colleague. School districts have a mandatory duty to report when they suspend or dismiss a teacher for any reason, when they discipline a teacher for physical harm, sexual misconduct, or significant emotional harm to students, and when a teacher’s conduct or competence breaches the Professional Standards “if it is in the public interest to do so”.

Yet despite these investigative powers and reporting mechanisms, neither the BCTC nor its predecessor, the BCCT, have ever revoked a teaching certificate for instructional incompetence following an independent investigation by the regulatory body. The consent resolution agreements following employer-generated “less than satisfactory” reports represent instances where teachers voluntarily surrendered their certificates rather than face disciplinary hearings. They were not cases where the regulator independently substantiated incompetent teaching and imposed revocation.

The vast majority of BC’s approximately 70,000 certificated teachers are competent professionals. But it is unreasonable to assume that all registrants are competent or remain competent throughout their careers. The Teachers Act gives the BCTC the responsibility to define and enforce standards of competence, but current evidence suggests it is not effectively doing so for instructional competence as distinct from conduct violations.

The regulatory system works effectively for its narrower purpose of addressing conduct violations that pose safety risks or undermine public trust. But the public should not assume that “competence” standards at the regulatory level ensure high-quality instruction in the learning-outcomes sense. Professional regulation in the public interest responds to high-harm behaviors through the Commissioner’s discipline process but relies on local school districts for teaching quality assurance. This division of responsibility creates a gap: incompetent teachers who do not engage in misconduct can move between districts with their certificates intact unless districts report them and the regulator independently investigates and substantiates instructional incompetence.

Effective professional regulation is built on a clear, enforceable promise to the public: that every practitioner meets a defined, observable threshold of safety and competence. However, the current Professional Standards for BC Educators fundamentally fail to uphold this promise because they substitute sentiment for rigorous accountability. By framing professional requirements in terms of what an educator should value, believe, or care about rather than what they must demonstrate and do, the Standards make objective regulation nearly impossible.

The BC regulator’s Oath of Office mandates that Council and Panel members “base [their] decisions on the objective evidence that is available,” act “impartially,” and prioritize the “public trust placed in [them].” But while regulators are sworn to base decisions on “objective evidence,” they use a set of standards that relies on subjective virtues rather than concrete competencies. This is an abdication of the duty to protect the public interest. When standards appear aspirational (e.g., “value success”), a regulator cannot adjudicate impartially based on “objective evidence.” Instead, they are forced to judge a teacher’s internal character or intent.

By contrast, a competency-based approach to standards (e.g., “demonstrate valid assessment practices”) would provide the objective criteria necessary for regulators to fulfill their oath to make decisions based on facts, transparent, and defensible in the public interest. Here is what the Standards might look like if expressed as competencies:

The educator shall always act as a fiduciary for students, prioritizing their physical, emotional, and psychological safety above personal or other interests, and shall maintain the integrity of the profession through lawful and ethical conduct. The educator must:

• maintain clear professional boundaries and avoid relationships that exploit the educator’s position of power for sexual, emotional, financial, or ideological gain.

• intervene to prevent harm, bullying, harassment, or discrimination.

• protect student data and personal information in accordance with privacy legislation, disclosing only when legally required or necessary for safety.

• adhere to all relevant legislation and regulations.

The educator shall demonstrate evidence-based instructional planning and delivery that accommodates the developmental, social, and diverse learning needs of every student. The educator:

• designs and implements learning activities informed by current research on human development and pedagogy.

• adapts instruction to accommodate students with diverse needs, including those with designated disabilities/diverse abilities, English Language Learners, and advanced learners.

• establishes classroom management routines that foster safety, inclusion, and engagement without relying on punitive or degrading discipline.

• ensures all learning activities (labs, physical education, field trips) comply with safety standards and risk management protocols.

The educator shall use fair, valid, and reliable assessment practices to monitor student progress and communicate outcomes accurately and timely to students and guardians. The educator

• uses assessment tools that align with curricular standards and accurately measure intended learning outcomes.

• produces grades/reports based on demonstrated evidence of learning, minimizing bias from non-academic factors (e.g., behavior, attendance).

• uses assessment data to identify learning gaps and adjusts instructional strategies accordingly.

• provides truthful, clear, and regular reports on student progress.

The educator shall demonstrate mastery of the curricular content and methodologies relevant to their assignment and maintain currency in their subject areas. The educator:

• demonstrates accurate and comprehensive knowledge of the subject matter being taught.

• provides instruction that meets or exceeds provincial curriculum standards.

• identifies and corrects student misconceptions accurately.

The educator shall demonstrate competence in Indigenous histories, cultures, and worldviews, and actively comply with professional obligations to support Truth and Reconciliation. The educator:

• identifies and intervenes in incidents of anti-Indigenous racism and bias in the learning environment.

• integrates First Nations, Inuit, and Métis content, perspectives, and pedagogies authentically across the curriculum.

• creates an environment that respects Indigenous identities and recognizes the impact of colonization on intergenerational trauma and learning.

• demonstrates working knowledge of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Calls to Action relevant to education.

The educator shall communicate professionally with families, collaborate with colleagues, and maintain currency of professional practice. The educator:

• communicates with parents/guardians and the community in a manner that is respectful, accurate, and timely.

• cooperates with colleagues, school administration, and regulatory bodies in investigations, safety planning, and school improvement.

• engages in professional learning to address identified gaps in practice and changes in legislation or curriculum.

• contributes to the supervision of teacher preparation candidates.

In creating specific competencies, I have removed language about what teachers “value” or “believe” (internal states) and replaced it with language about what teachers “do” (observable acts). In the existing standards there is ambiguity about whether a standard applies. I have explicitly used “shall” and “must” to eliminate that ambiguity. Most important, I have tried to provide “indicators” about what is expected that teachers can recognize and that someone providing supervision could look for in a classroom observation or an investigator might use to provide evidence of competence or misconduct.

Adopting a competency approach to teacher standards would make clear what the public expects of teachers and enable members of the Teachers’ Council to fulfill the obligations of their oath of office in enforcing those standards.

In last week’s blog post, I argued that students, including those with special education needs, achieve better outcomes when support is organized within a multi-tiered framework such as Response to Intervention (RTI) or Multi-Tiered Systems of Support (MTSS). One major obstacle to implementing such a system is cost. My back-of-the-envelope calculation suggests that an evidence-based MTSS/RTI system for British Columbia would require approximately $1.75 billion annually. The primary barrier to securing these resources is the province’s unequal and unfair school tax calculation system that deprives education of much-needed revenue, as school taxes are treated as general provincial revenue by government and are not specifically allocated to support education.

In BC, the provincial portion of the property tax assessed by municipalities, often called the “school tax,” is governed by a formula that effectively limits average revenue growth per home at roughly the rate of inflation. When property values rise faster than the Consumer Price Index as they have for decades, the province automatically reduces the school tax rate to keep revenue growth in line with CPI rather than with the growth in underlying wealth.

This has three important consequences. As real estate values increase, the tax base grows, but the yield to the province does not keep pace. The system is designed to limit much of the potential new revenue. The gap between what the province could collect and what it chooses to collect gets bigger with every assessment cycle. Education funding debates take place inside an artificial fiscal box. Resources exist in the economy, but the tax system doesn’t make use of them. So, when we ask, “Can BC afford $1.75 billion more for MTSS/RTI?” we should also ask, “Why has the province chosen a school tax system that disconnects revenue from the growth in land wealth created by public policy, infrastructure, and population?”

The problem is not just the size of the pool of school tax, but how taxes are distributed across communities and taxpayers. First, rates differ significantly across school districts. Districts with lower average property values face higher tax rates, while wealthier districts with very high property values enjoy lower rates on the same assessed value. Two homes worth the same amount in different districts can generate very different school tax bills. That is a textbook example of horizontal inequity. Households with similar ability to pay are treated differently based solely on geography.

Second, the system privileges homeowners over renters. Provincial property tax relief is delivered primarily through mechanisms that benefit owner-occupiers, even though renters indirectly pay property taxes through their rent. In effect, households with similar incomes and housing consumption face different net tax burdens depending on whether they own or rent.

Third, non-residential and business properties are often taxed at multiples of residential rates. While there are policy arguments about service usage and competitiveness, the political reality is that higher rates on less vocal constituencies (businesses, non-resident owners) are a way to shield owner-occupiers from the full cost of public services.

Taken together, these design choices create an upside-down situation. The system is careful not to harvest too much revenue from a rapidly appreciating land base, and at the same time comfortable with inequities between districts, between homeowners and renters, and between residential and non-residential taxpayers.

Under a different tax architecture, choices would still be difficult. Education will always be competing with health care, social services, housing, and other needs, but the magnitude of the fiscal constraint would be different. A system that allows school tax revenue to grow more closely in line with land wealth would make a province-wide MTSS/RTI possible.

Critics of increased education funding often frame the issue as a question of household affordability: “Families are already stretched; we cannot raise property taxes.” That concern is real. But we need to separate how much revenue we raise from how we distribute the burden. There are ways to change the provincial school tax that would increase available revenue for MTSS/RTI while protecting, or even improving, fairness for lower- and middle-income households.

Income-tested property tax credits could be introduced so that property tax liability is limited as a share of household income with larger relief for lower-income owners. Shifting more of the tax onto high-value properties and land value, which better reflect accumulated wealth and speculative gains than improvements alone would also help. Providing relief in those communities where housing cost burdens were already extreme, while effective taxation rates are increased in areas with lower cost pressures and higher fiscal capacity.

In other words, it is possible to design a school tax system that both raises more revenue and is fairer than the present methodology. The current design constrains revenue growth and tolerates systemic inequities.

At its core, MTSS/RTI is about building capacity: in teachers, in schools, in systems. That capacity requires recurring, predictable funding. The obvious place to look is the largest and most stable base of provincial wealth, land.

Public policy in the form of zoning, transit investments, environmental protection, economic development strategies has created enormous unearned land value gains in many parts of British Columbia. It is reasonable, even modest, to argue that a larger share of those gains should be captured to fund the public system that produces them, including a K–12 system capable of delivering robust, tiered supports to every learner.

From this perspective, the $1.75 billion required for an evidence-based MTSS/RTI framework is less a “new cost” and more a belated recognition that educational needs should have a stronger claim on the land-based wealth. MTSS/RTI is not just about pedagogy or special education policy. It is about whether we are willing to redesign our tax architecture so that our school system can finally match what the research tells us students need.

There is little comfort for parents of students with special needs in knowing that graduation “rates” have improved somewhat over the past 20 years in British Columbia. It is not obvious that these improvements reflect real gains in learning rather than changes in how we count and certify success. The gradual reduction and eventual elimination of provincial examinations, the shift to stand‑alone literacy and numeracy assessments that are technically graduation requirements but not integrated into course percentages, and university concerns about inflated grades and comparability all give parents and taxpayers good reason to be skeptical about what apparent gains in graduation really mean. A student who walks across a stage may still lack the literacy, numeracy, reasoning, and problem‑solving skills needed for post‑secondary education, work, and independent living.

Like all parents, parents of students with special needs want their children to succeed. And, as taxpayers, they want to know that the money allocated to serving their children is being used to maximum advantage to help them succeed. The problem is that, in British Columbia, special education spending is built upon a class composition framework driven by litigation and collective bargaining rather than by evidence about how to organize support. Money flows through mechanisms such as the Classroom Enhancement Fund and categorical special education grants, but the important question, whether those dollars are being spent in ways most likely to improve learning, gets lost in debates about compliance with contractual obligations and head‑counts of teachers added to the system.

The accumulated evidence points to five themes about maximizing the impact of resources on the educational success of students with special needs. First, resources have the greatest impact when they are used early in a child’s educational trajectory. High‑quality early childhood programs and early, intensive interventions produce sizeable and often lasting gains in cognition, adaptive skills, and later school participation. Early intervention can also reduce the need for more costly remedial services in later grades, which is particularly important in a system where assessments and designations can be delayed by long waitlists and where the formal composition rules say little about what happens before a child is ever identified.

Second, systems get better results when support is organized within a multi‑tiered framework such as Response to Intervention (RTI) or Multi‑Tiered Systems of Support (MTSS), rather than relying only on individual diagnoses. RTI and MTSS organize educational support into three tiers of increasing intensity. Tier 1 is universal: all students receive high‑quality core instruction in the general education classroom, supported by universal screening to identify those who may need more. Tier 2 provides focussed, small‑group interventions, typically 20–30 minutes, three to four times per week, for students not making adequate progress in Tier 1. Tier 3 offers intensive, individualized interventions, often daily and for longer periods, for students who do not respond adequately to Tier 2.

A key point is that, rather than waiting for a formal special education diagnosis, RTI/MTSS uses data from classroom performance and progress monitoring to match support intensity to need. Students who respond well to Tier 2 exit back to Tier 1; those who do not respond to Tier 3 may be referred for special education evaluation, but only after evidence of poor response to interventions. This approach reduces inappropriate special education placements, focuses intensive resources on students with genuine, persistent difficulties, and ensures that every student (not just those with disabilities or diverse abilities) has access to progressively more expert instruction.

Third, the evidence suggests that investing in expertise pays off more than simply adding more bodies. Students with disabilities make greater gains when they are taught by teachers who have substantial pre‑service preparation in special education, and when the educational assistants who work with them receive purposeful preparation and coaching about how to provide instructional and behavioral supports. In British Columbia’s current framework, it is easy to count the number of FTE teachers funded through the Classroom Enhancement Fund or the number of education assistants in a building. It is much harder to know how many of those adults have the training and ongoing support necessary to deliver intensive, evidence‑informed interventions. Dollars devoted to additional positions will have limited effect if those adults are not prepared to change instruction in ways that improves learning.

Fourth, funding mechanisms matter to the extent that they align resources with need and the intensity of support required. Studies of school finance show that funding improves achievement and long‑term outcomes for high‑need students if it is properly aligned with their needs and used to implement high‑quality support provided by highly qualified adults. In BC, however, much of the discussion of special education takes place through the lens of categorical funding and composition rules: how many students in each designation, how many teachers added through restoration, how much remedy must be paid when classes exceed contractual limits. None of these measures tells parents whether the money is being used to provide early, intensive interventions in literacy and numeracy, to build coherent Tier 2 and Tier 3 supports, or to ensure that the professionals working with their children have deep expertise rather than just goodwill and goodwill‑plus‑time.

Fifth, the literature makes clear that special education is not automatically effective just because it is labeled “special.” Studies show that, as typically delivered, special education services produce highly variable results. They can produce substantial gains when they involve intensive, evidence‑informed instruction that is focussed properly and sustained. But when evidence‑informed instructional changes are not employed - in other words, when support amounts to parallel supervision, generic assistance, or placement in a separate space without a clear plan - the results are often modest or even negative. An important implication is that it is necessary to monitor and evaluate which approaches improve learning for students with special needs and to be willing to take resources away from popular but low‑impact practices and redirect them to ones for which there is stronger evidence, even when those shifts are politically difficult.

These considerations do not align with the contractual framework around class size and composition in British Columbia. The restored composition language was designed, in part, to address teacher workload concerns. The teachers’ federation has consistently argued that class size and composition are the most significant factors affecting teachers’ ability to meet the needs of all students. Research supports the proposition that class composition, defined as the increased complexity and diversity of student needs, has a substantial impact on teacher workload. Teachers report that classroom management and parent‑teacher communication show the greatest variance in perceived workload. These are precisely the tasks where students with disabilities and behavioural needs have the most pronounced effects. Yet workload is a multidimensional construct that cannot be adequately addressed through numerical limits on student designations.

Studies of teacher workload identify at least five core components: lesson preparation, homework grading, classroom instruction, classroom management, and parent‑teacher communication. The impact of a student with special needs on each of these components depends on the specific nature of the student’s needs, the supports available, the teacher’s preparation and experience, and the school and district context. A categorical composition limit cannot account for this complexity.

The remedy formula built into the current agreement translates workload into a linear function of the number of students exceeding limits, monetized as minutes of additional support. This approach assumes that workload can be compensated through additive resources (preparation periods, a portion of a co‑teacher, a chunk of education assistant time), an assumption at odds with research showing that teacher work engagement is mediated by both “challenge” (which can be positive) and “hindrance” (which is negative), and that the relationship between perceived workload and outcomes varies depending on the nature of the work and the supports available. Providing a teacher with additional preparation time or a co‑teacher may mitigate some pressures, but it does not address the fundamental pedagogical challenge of differentiating instruction for a highly diverse classroom.

The disconnect between contractual provisions and educational adequacy is supported by teacher perceptions. Despite the addition of thousands of teachers and hundreds of millions in annual Classroom Enhancement Fund spending, many BC teachers say that students with disabilities or diverse needs are still not having their needs met. This suggests that the problem is not teacher‑student ratios or class sizes, but the adequacy and appropriateness of the entire support system. That system includes specialist services, educational assistants, assessment and designation processes, professional development, and the alignment between inclusive education policy and classroom practice. In other words, British Columbia is spending more money, but it is spending within a framework that was designed to resolve a constitutional labour dispute not to implement what the evidence says about effective, inclusive education.

The hard question for parents and taxpayers is not whether graduation rates appear to have improved, or how many additional teachers have been hired to meet restored class size language. The hard question is whether the dollars devoted to special education are being used in ways that align with what we know about effective practice (early intervention, coherent multi‑tiered support, investment in expertise, funding formulas tied to actual need and intensity of support, and monitoring what works). Until British Columbia moves from a litigation‑driven model of special education policy to one based upon evidence about learning, the province will continue to spend large sums of money without being able to say, with confidence, that students with special needs are leaving school able to read, calculate, communicate, and think critically at levels that support independence.

The restoration of class size and composition language negotiated in the late 1980s in response to mainstreaming has created a system where rigid numerical limits govern teacher workload and resource allocation, while the composition constraints themselves bear little connection to individual student characteristics or support needs. While the scope of the financial commitment and the scale of teacher hiring were substantial, the allocation of those resources is disconnected from the educational and demographic realities of 2026.

The 2016 Supreme Court of Canada decision in British Columbia Teachers’ Federation v. British Columbia ended a 14-year legal battle precipitated by the BC Liberal government’s Public Education Flexibility and Choice Act legislation in 2002 which deleted class size, class composition, and specialist-teacher ratios from teachers’ collective agreements. The Court’s 7-2 decision found that the subsequent Education Improvement Act in 2012 violated teachers’ freedom of association under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms and ordered the restoration of the deleted contractual terms.

The restoration carried immediate operational and financial implications. The BCTF estimated the province would need to spend an additional $250 to $300 million annually to return to 2002 staffing levels, requiring the hiring of 3,500 to 3,700 teachers system-wide. By March 2017, the provincial parties (Government/BCPSEA and BCTF) had negotiated an implementation framework through a Memorandum of Agreement (LOU No. 17). The MOU established the Classroom Enhancement Fund (CEF) to finance restoration and created processes for districts to manage non-compliance with restored limits.

Under the terms of the MOU, class sizes are reduced by one student for the first two special needs students placed, and by a further one student if a third is added in very exceptional circumstances (with teacher agreement required for the third placement). No more than one student with a severe designation may be placed in a single regular class. Those designations are: A (Physically Dependent/Multiple Needs), C (Moderate to Profound Intellectual Disabilities), G (Autism Spectrum Disorder), H (Intensive Behaviour/Mental Illness). The original class size limits were negotiated when the proportion of students with identified special needs was substantially lower than it is today, and when the profile of designations was markedly different.

The demographic and diagnostic composition of BC classrooms in 2026 bears little resemblance to the context in which composition language was originally negotiated. Students with disabilities or diverse abilities now constitute a far larger proportion of the school population, and the profile of needs has shifted dramatically. Classroom realities diverge from the 2-3 student composition limits expressed in the MOU. In 2014, two years before the Supreme Court decision, 24% of BC classes already had four or more students with special needs.

The restored composition was designed with a categorical rather than functional approach to student need. The two-student limit set in the MOU is based on Ministry designation category, not on the actual level of support a student requires. A student with a mild learning disability (Q) counts identically to a student with autism (G) or intensive behaviour needs (H) for composition purposes, although their support requirements differ. High-incidence categories like mild intellectual disability (K) and learning disabilities (Q) are counted, while mild to moderate behaviour support/mental illness (R), a rapidly growing category, and gifted students (P) are excluded from composition counts entirely.

The result is a system where composition limits are routinely exceeded setting the MOU remedy process in motion, although the limits bear no relationship to research evidence on optimal class composition, teacher capacity, or student outcomes. As one Ontario arbitration decision noted in a parallel context, class size and composition provisions are “essentially workload provisions,” yet the BC framework ties workload relief to categorical designations rather than to the actual complexity of student needs.​

When classes exceed restored size or composition limits, the remedies established in LOU No. 17 are expressed in minutes. The minutes can be converted into additional preparation time for the affected teacher, additional non-enrolling staffing to work with the class, additional enrolling staffing to co-teach, pooled time to create school resources, or cash equivalent to purchase educational assistant or non-teacher resources. If appropriate resources cannot be provided, teachers affected may receive direct cash payments.​

The problem is that the MOU treats composition violations as a linear, additive problem. Each student beyond the limit generates a fixed number of remedy minutes, regardless of the specific needs of those students, the availability of other supports, the physical classroom environment, or the experience and capacity of the teacher. A class with three students with learning disabilities receives the same remedy calculation as a class with three students with autism or intensive behaviour needs, despite vastly different implications for instruction and classroom management. The system monetizes non-compliance rather than preventing it or ensuring that, when it occurs, the supports provided are pedagogically appropriate and evidence-based.

The composition limits restored in 2017 are arbitrary in relation to research evidence on effective inclusive education. The two-student (or three under exceptional circumstances) limit has no empirical basis in studies of optimal class composition, teacher workload, or student outcomes. Research on class size effects for special needs students emphasizes that smaller classes enable teachers to more effectively address unique learning needs and build safe, integrated classroom communities, and that these benefits are especially pronounced when classes include several students with special needs or students with multiple exceptionalities. But the approach in the MOU does not require smaller classes for students with disabilities. Instead, it requires class size reductions only when specific thresholds are crossed regardless of whether those reductions are sufficient to address the actual complexity of the classroom.

The result is a system that provides teachers with workload relief and additional supports based on whether students have been formally designated in countable categories, and whether the number of such students crosses the threshold of two (or three). The system does not consider the actual complexity of their classrooms or the adequacy of available resources. It is unlikely that parents of students with special needs or taxpayers are getting the intended benefit of those resources.