Beyond Symbolic Truth and Towards Systemic Reconciliation

Our governments and schools love data. Reports are filled with charts, tables, and graphs that look convincing on the surface. But data is only as meaningful as the questions we ask of it. Too often we fail to ask what the data actually tells us, what it leaves out, and whose stories are missing. Numbers can be misrepresented, and in education they often are. Rarely do we see qualitative analysis that centers the voices of students, families, and communities. It is easier to prepare polished spreadsheets than to face the truth and unpack the harm that continues in our schools.

The provincial Aboriginal Report: How Are We Doing is presented as a tool for transparency and accountability in tracking the experiences of Indigenous students. Yet when we look closely, it is built on measures that distort rather than reflect the truth.

One of the most troubling examples is the reliance on the Foundation Skills Assessment (FSA) to show literacy and numeracy rates. The FSA is not the tool we should be using. It frames knowledge in a narrow, colonial way that privileges the written word as superior and excludes other ways of knowing. It reduces learning to standardized scores and reinforces a system where Indigenous intelligence and strengths are dismissed if they do not conform to the test. By continuing to use the FSA as a benchmark, the province is upholding a biased framework that does not tell us how Indigenous students are actually learning.

Another troubling piece is the number of behaviour designations. The report shows a staggering jump: the number of Indigenous students labeled with behaviour designations doubles between Kindergarten to Grade 3 and Grades 4 to 7. That data is telling us something urgent. Children are entering school with curiosity and capacity, yet within a few years the system responds with labels of “problem behaviour” rather than meaningful support. Nowhere in the report is there accountability for why this pattern continues.

What is missing altogether is any accounting of how many Indigenous students are being marginalized, excluded, or discriminated against in schools. Shortened days, frequent suspensions, and informal send-homes are everyday realities, yet they are invisible in the data. Families and communities know the truth: exclusion is a systemic practice that undermines belonging and causes long-term harm.

The way inclusive education categories are structured only makes this worse. They are built to serve a system based on diagnosis. For some Indigenous families, pursuing an assessment is not wanted. For others, the wait times are long and supports are delayed for years. This leaves children without access to the resources they need, while the system avoids its responsibility by hiding behind bureaucratic definitions.

And this is where the reporting itself becomes part of the problem. When districts are asked to report on data that is not meaningful, it creates the illusion of accountability. The real demand should be to change what is reported and how it is reported, so that the experiences of Indigenous students and families are not erased or minimized, but are told honestly and in full.

The truth is that this data, as presented, is more of a show than a reckoning. Without confronting structural inequities and centering the lived experiences of Indigenous students and families, these reports mean very little.

Real reconciliation will not be achieved through selective data and symbolic gestures. It requires listening to Indigenous voices. It requires acknowledging systemic harm. It requires schools that create dignity, belonging, and care for every child.

When there is systemic racism present, we must take systemic action to change our education system. That means moving beyond colonial-based practices and finally committing to real transparency.

The call to action is clear: stop hiding behind numbers. Start telling the truth. Until we do, we cannot claim to be on the path to reconciliation.