English-Language School in Dieppe: Students First

The debate over a proposed new English-language school in Dieppe is becoming something it should never have been: a dispute over which language belongs in which community.

There are legitimate questions to ask about the proposed site near Pélagie Street, close to the Dieppe–Memramcook area. There are also legitimate concerns about protecting the French language and Acadian culture. But neither changes the central issue: schools exist to educate children, and decisions about where to build them should begin with where those children live and what they need.

Just as importantly, we must not mistake the loudest voices for the views of two entire communities. I believe most English- and French-speaking residents recognize that we share this region, that both communities have legitimate needs, and that our children are better served when we work together.

Before going further, one fact matters. The province has indicated that the site has not been finalized and that the land has not yet been purchased; an environmental impact study is underway for a potential parcel. On November 10, Dieppe City Council also clarified that it had not scheduled a vote on the school for November 9, and said it was arranging independent consultations. This is a debate about a proposed location, not an approved building already under construction.

Dieppe Does Not Have a Simple Veto Over a Provincial School

There seems to be an assumption that Dieppe City Council can simply decide that an English-language school will not be built in a particular part of the municipality. That is not how provincial school-site decisions work.

Under section 45 of New Brunswick’s Education Act, a district education council determines the general location of a school, while the provincial minister determines the specific site. Municipalities have an important voice, but they do not hold the final decision-making authority.

There is a planning qualification worth understanding. Section 22 of the Community Planning Act requires the province to consider the municipal plan. If a proposed school conflicts with that plan, approval from the Lieutenant-Governor in Council is required. That is a provincial approval mechanism, however, not an unrestricted municipal veto.

We have seen the practical reality before. There was substantial opposition to moving Moncton High School from its downtown location to the outskirts of the city, yet the province proceeded. More recently, residents and municipal representatives sought a different site for a school originally intended to replace Bessborough and Hillcrest. The province proceeded with the site beside Bernice MacNaughton High School, where Wabanaki School opened in 2024. The original replacement plan subsequently changed because of rising enrolment: Wabanaki opened as a Grades 6–8 middle school rather than fully replacing both schools; Bessborough continued as a K–5 school and Hillcrest shifted to an alternative learning program.

Whether those were good decisions is a separate question. The point is that municipalities and residents can argue for different sites, but they cannot simply dictate the province’s final choice.

A New School Must Follow the Students

This should not be a contest between English and French. It should be a question of demographics, enrolment and geography.

When the number of children needing a particular school system grows in an area, the need for appropriate school space grows with it. That is true of English-language schools, French-language schools and schools serving particular grade levels. Once existing schools cannot reasonably meet that demand, constructing new facilities becomes a responsibility, not a cultural concession. In fact, the province identified a new kindergarten-to-Grade 12 anglophone school in Dieppe as a capital project in November 2023, citing growth and overcrowding.

There is no single magic population number that automatically decides where a school must be built. The province should be looking at actual and projected student enrolment, where families live, future residential development, school capacity, travel distances, transportation times and the suitability of available land.

As I have argued in Moncton at a Crossroads: Growth, Housing and a More Inclusive Future, population growth has to be matched by public services and infrastructure that work for the people living in those communities. Schools are an important part of that responsibility.

For example, Lou MacNarin School’s official online profile lists 811 students in kindergarten to Grade 5, including its English and French Immersion programming. That figure alone does not determine the correct site for a new K–12 school, but it certainly shows why the educational needs of families served by the anglophone school district deserve serious planning.

Municipal boundaries and linguistic symbolism should not outweigh the needs of the children a school is being built to serve. If the evidence shows that a location in Moncton would serve those children better, make that case with evidence. If the evidence supports a location in Dieppe, the fact that it is an English-language school should not be treated as a reason to move it.

Children Should Never Be Made to Feel Unwelcome

This is the part of the discussion that troubles me most.

A school is not an invading institution. It is a place where children learn, make friends, participate in their communities and build their futures.

There is an enormous difference between saying, “This parcel of land has traffic, safety or accessibility problems,” and saying, “An English-language school should not be built in our community because this is a French-speaking area.” The first raises practical concerns that deserve to be examined. The second risks sending English-speaking children and their families a very different message: that their presence is somehow unwelcome.

Turn the languages around and the principle stays exactly the same. I would object just as strongly to efforts to keep a needed French-language school out of a predominantly English-speaking community simply because of the language used inside its classrooms.

Children are not a threat to a community’s identity. They are part of that community.

There Are Good Reasons to Make Exceptions — Language Exclusion Is Not One

Ordinarily, new school construction should follow student demand. I can understand exceptions to that principle when an existing school is a heritage building worth preserving, or when maintaining a smaller school is necessary because closing it would force children to travel unreasonable distances.

Practical site considerations also matter: safe roads, accessibility, environmental conditions, available land and the ability to expand. These are reasons to compare locations carefully, not reasons to declare that a school of one language does not belong on one side of a municipal boundary.

A heritage school may deserve preservation even when a spreadsheet suggests building elsewhere would be cheaper. A rural school may deserve to stay open even with lower enrolment because of the distances children would otherwise face. Those are arguments grounded in educational need, community access and responsible planning.

Simply preferring that children in one language system attend school outside a particular municipality is not the same kind of argument.

The Quiet Majority Should Not Be Drowned Out

Listening to the most heated arguments surrounding the new school, someone unfamiliar with Dieppe might conclude that English- and French-speaking residents are locked in a bitter conflict. I do not believe that is an accurate reflection of our communities.

In my view, the uproar is being amplified by a relatively small number of people at the extremes of the debate. Anti-English and anti-French voices may be especially loud, but they do not get to speak for everyone simply because they are the most confrontational.

The average person understands something much simpler: English-speaking and French-speaking families live in the same region. They work together, shop in the same stores, use the same public services, and want their children to grow up in safe, welcoming communities. Recognizing the needs and rights of one language community does not require rejecting the needs and rights of the other.

There is also a large, less vocal middle that rarely gets the same attention. People who reject both extremes often do not join the shouting matches, attend every public meeting, or argue in comment sections. Their silence should not be mistaken for agreement with either side, or for a lack of concern. Sometimes it simply means they refuse to participate in a needless confrontation.

None of this means that everyone who questions a particular school location is an extremist. Residents can raise genuine concerns about land use, traffic, safety, municipal planning, or the vitality of French-speaking institutions without being hostile to English-speaking children. Equally, supporting a school in Dieppe does not mean dismissing Acadian culture or French-language rights. Reasonable disagreement belongs in public debate; intolerance does not.

We cannot allow a small number of the loudest voices to define the relationship between two communities that are perfectly capable of living and succeeding together. The people in the middle deserve to be recognized, and the children deserve better than being used as symbols in a manufactured language battle.

Language Politics Opens the Door to the Worst Voices

Protecting the French language in New Brunswick is important. The historical and present-day challenges facing Acadian and francophone communities are real. People who raise those concerns should not automatically be branded intolerant, particularly when some opponents of the proposed location have explicitly acknowledged the need for a new English-language school.

But the discussion becomes dangerous when decisions are framed as victories or defeats for one language group over another.

Once that happens, the bigots on both sides have an opening: those hostile to English speakers and those hostile to French speakers alike. A conversation that should be about enrolment forecasts, safe travel and the needs of students becomes a cultural confrontation. The children disappear from the discussion, replaced by people arguing over territory and identity.

That is why we need to keep bringing the debate back to measurable facts. Not because the French language is unimportant, and not because English-language rights are more important, but because both communities deserve schools designed around the educational needs of their children.

Let the Evidence Decide

The province should publish the information that supports its proposed location: current and projected enrolment, where the students would come from, expected travel times, existing school capacity and a clear comparison of reasonable alternative sites.

Dieppe residents should be heard. So should families who would use the school, including those who currently travel elsewhere for education. French-language educational planning should continue to receive the attention and investment it needs. None of that requires turning the proposed English-language school into a referendum on who belongs in Dieppe.

My position is straightforward. Build schools where the children who need them can best be served. Use evidence, not linguistic hostility, to choose the sites.

Whether a school teaches in English or French, its students deserve to know they are welcome in their own community.

We should never try to protect one group of children by making another group feel that they do not belong.

Visuals are conceptual, not official school plans, location maps or municipal notices.

Sources and Further Reading

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