Saturday, August 30, 2025
When Classrooms Turn Dark
When Classrooms Turn Dark
By Dale Jodoin
A federal report reveals one in six antisemitic incidents in Ontario schools involve teachers. What happens when blame becomes part of the lesson plan?
Most people want to believe schools are safe spaces. Teachers are trusted to guide young people toward knowledge and fairness. And for the majority, that trust is well-earned.
But a new government study has exposed a dangerous minority. In February 2025, Canadian Heritage released The Report on Antisemitism in Ontario Schools. It tracked more than 780 reports of antisemitic incidents across the province between October 2023 and January 2025.
The number that stood out: nearly one in six of those cases 17 percent involved teachers or school-sanctioned activities.
That’s not playground gossip. It’s government data. And it forces us to ask: what happens when the people meant to protect kids are the ones planting harm?
“Nearly one in six antisemitic incidents in Ontario schools were linked to teachers themselves.”
The Report on Antisemitism in Ontario Schools, Canadian Heritage, 2025
The report tells of Jewish students mocked or shamed in class, made to feel responsible for wars half a world away. One girl recalled that whenever the Middle East came up, classmates turned to stare at her while the teacher stayed silent. Others described slurs that went unchallenged, or comments that made their very identity feel like a crime.
And it’s not just Jewish children. Caucasian boys white boys in general are often singled out, not for behavior, but for skin and gender. The message they hear sometimes openly, sometimes between the lines is that their identity makes them guilty. By high school, many have learned silence is safer than speaking.
The danger is obvious: once schools normalize blaming one group, that same habit can swing toward others.
Words from peers sting. Words from a teacher's scar. Authority has weight. When an adult suggests a child “is the problem,” the message lodges deep.
Psychologists call this internalized blame. It starts in middle school, turns to silence in high school, and hardens into conformity by university. By then, questioning the script is treated not as curiosity but as harm. Students are rewarded for slogans, not reasoning.
We’ve seen this before. Every society that forgets, every system that lets anger turn into targeting, begins with the young. Children are the first to carry the burden of collective blame.
Ontario’s numbers are a warning. One in six isn’t small. It’s a signal.
The Numbers
781 antisemitic incidents reported in Ontario schools (2023–2025)
1 in 6 involved teachers or school-sanctioned events
Nearly 17% of cases were authority-driven, not peer-driven
Report commissioned by Canadian Heritage, published February 2025
Most teachers are not part of this. The majority guide with fairness, challenge respectfully, and protect their students. But a dangerous minority, exposed in the government’s own data, cannot be ignored.
Seventeen percent means this isn’t rare enough to dismiss. It means real children Jewish kids, Caucasian boys, and others are being shaped by shame instead of learning.
If classrooms want to heal, the rules must be simple:
Criticize actions, not identities.
Teach history with multiple perspectives, not slogans.
Protect debate, but punish harassment even when it comes from a teacher.
The Report on Antisemitism in Ontario Schools isn’t just a tally of incidents. It’s a warning flare. When blame enters the classroom, children pay the price first.
Today it’s Jewish students. Yesterday it was Caucasian boys. Tomorrow, it could be someone else entirely.
The saddest part is that we don’t seem to learn. We tell ourselves schools are safer, kinder, more aware and yet kids still sit at their desks feeling ashamed for who they are. Authority, the very thing that should lift them up, is sometimes what pushes them down.
Most teachers are good. They care deeply, and they carry a heavy load. But when even a minority trade education for blame, the echo doesn’t end with one lesson. It stretches for years, shaping how young people see themselves and each other.
We can’t allow that echo to become the new normal.
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