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John Wesley Chisholm's avatar

The most interesting responses I’ve received privately since publishing this piece have been from people who have firsthand experience with both the regular public school system in Nova Scotia and the French-language school system—a system I hadn’t even realized existed in the way they describe it. And what they describe is fascinating: essentially a government-funded elite private school system with admissions based on race and cultural background.

Most people in the province know about French immersion, the program within English public schools where students can take their education primarily in French while still being part of the standard provincial school system. But there’s a second, far more exclusive system: the Conseil scolaire acadien provincial (CSAP), Nova Scotia’s publicly funded French-language school board.

Unlike French immersion, which is open to any student, CSAP schools are designed exclusively for children of francophone parents or those who can prove a strong cultural or linguistic connection to the French-speaking community. These schools operate with separate funding, separate administration, and separate admission criteria—and, according to those who have responded to my piece, they offer a dramatically better education than standard English public schools.

Here’s where it gets really interesting. Unlike regular public schools, where any student can enroll based on geography, CSAP schools have an openly selective admissions process. To be eligible, families must demonstrate:

Francophone heritage (having a parent or grandparent who speaks French)

A history of speaking French at home

A commitment to maintaining the French language and culture

This means that a child of English-speaking parents cannot simply apply, even if they want to learn French. But a child from a historically Acadian or francophone family gets automatic access to what is, by all accounts, a superior school system.

Those who have responded to my piece describe this as a racially and culturally exclusive admissions policy, one that quietly creates a two-tiered public school system where access to the better-funded, higher-performing schools is determined by ancestry.

This is precisely what I was arguing: bilingualism in Canada is not just an opportunity—it is a quiet form of gatekeeping. A ticket to better education, better job opportunities, and better access to government power—but only for those who meet the unspoken criteria.

It’s worth asking: if a parallel school system existed for another group—let’s say, children of Scottish or German descent or Catholic—would it be tolerated... or funded!? Would it be defended? Would it even exist?

The fact that this system is not widely discussed is revealing. And now that I know about it, it further changes the way I see the entire conversation around bilingualism in Canada.

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David E. J. Holt's avatar

A lot of good points in this post. One question is: what is language? I learned "Parisian" French in France, where there are many distinct regional accents. Partly while living with a family, taking classes at a small institute, smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee and cheap wine and watching the TV news where the newscasters speak in carefully articulated Parisian French. After all these years, my ear gravitates to it.

Meanwhile, all countries have many varieties of the native tongue. English in Canada has many regional varieties, including vocabulary and argot/slang. So does French in Canada. Driving through Quebec and NB, most of the time my Parisian friends did not think they were hearing "real" French. These regional differences make a mockery of the notion of linguistic purity. All big cities have many versions of the so-called native tongue. Try walking the streets of Boston or New York, Toronto or Montreal -- it can vary block by block, even among so-called educated speakers. Influxes of immigrants change it up, as they always have.

My Norwegian father came to Newfoundland and then Canada after WW II. He had learned English in London in the 1930s and made fun of the snobbery that kept the top jobs for those whose accents indicated they had attended the right schools. By a fluke he had gone to one of them as a scrawny young teenager who at first spoke no English. Relatives on both sides of my family speak multiple languages, partly from living in different countries when they were young. On my father's side, barely surviving both the Russian Revolution and the Nazi occupation of Norway (my uncle practiced his German in Buchenwald, where he also spoke English and Russian.) On the other side, as girls my grandmother and her sisters lived in France, Italy and Germany, and for a brief time in Spain, so they could learn the languages, peregrinations that were affordable in pre-World War II Europe. Although these experiences were not easy, they made the girls open-minded, always ready for the next adventure.

In much of the world, English is the de facto second language. In many places you can hear five people from five countries getting along fine in their various forms of imperfect English. Languages spread along with trade, exploration, and conquest. My father went on one of the first foreign trade missions to China in 1974, after Nixon opened it up. Although he was anti-communist from experience as well as philosophy, he could sense the gradual rise of that massive country. "Forget French," he said. "Teach your children Chinese."

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