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SOUND OFF

SOUND OFF: Impending closure of KSA elementary art studio the wrong move

Apr 14, 2026 | 4:50 PM

THERE IS A PARTICULAR KIND OF QUIET that settles over a room built for art. It’s not silence, exactly. It’s the hum of thinking, the scratch of pencil on paper, the low murmur of experimentation. It is the sound of children trying something new, failing safely, and trying again.

At Kamloops School of the Arts (KSA), that quiet has long had a home in the elementary art studio. At the end of this school year, that space will be gone. School administrators say arts programming will continue elsewhere, but this is inadequate. There simply aren’t other spaces that meet the needs of the program and aren’t already over capacity. Without a comparable alternative, vague reassurances are not enough.

Long before KSA existed, I was a school-aged kid sitting in early planning meetings about what an arts school in Kamloops could be. I remember the excitement, the sense of possibility. I wanted that kind of education so badly, a place where creativity was not an extra, but a foundation.

It didn’t come to be in time for me.

But through years of advocacy, Kamloops School of the Arts was established. And now my children get to experience what so many of us once imagined. That matters. It should matter to all of us.

Which is why this decision feels like more than a logistical adjustment.

The district’s decision to reallocate the studio is not mysterious. Schools are overcrowded. Space is tight, and administrators are being asked to do the impossible: fit more students into buildings that were never designed to hold them, all while working within the constraints of chronically inadequate provincial funding.

This is real. It is urgent. It deserves acknowledgment.

And still, this decision is the wrong one.

When we remove the dedicated space for art, we are not simply shifting furniture. We are eroding one of the core commitments that justified the school’s creation in the first place.

And this cut is not happening in isolation.

Recently, we saw the closure of the District Strings program. Librarians, Science Assistants, Inclusion Outreach Teachers, Speech and Language Pathologists, all positions that have been reduced, cut or gone unfilled in recent years. Classroom teachers are stretched beyond capacity, trying to meet increasingly complex student needs with insufficient support. Educational assistants are spread thin. Spaces are being repurposed. Programs are being reduced.

None of these decisions happen in a vacuum. Together, they tell a story.

It is a story about a system under strain, yes, but also about what gets quietly deprioritized when that strain becomes normalized.

Because that is what this is. It is a signal that when hard choices arise, the arts are negotiable.

There is a myth that arts education is a luxury, something nice to have once “core” needs are met. It is a myth that has been thoroughly debunked and yet it lingers, shaping decisions like this one. The research is clear: arts education supports cognitive development, strengthens problem-solving skills, improves engagement and creates pathways for students who do not always thrive in traditional academic environments.

For many children, the art room is not enrichment. It is access.

Closing the studio does not mean art disappears from KSA. But it does mean something more insidious: it becomes smaller, more easily sidelined. Without a dedicated space, art becomes optional.

This is a systemic issue. SD73 is facing capacity challenges, and those challenges are the result of years of inadequate investment at the provincial level. Enrollment grows. Infrastructure does not.

But here is where leadership matters.

Right now, across the district, programs are being cut, spaces are being repurposed and communities are being asked to accept less. It is happening in ways large and small, visible and quiet. The closure of the KSA art studio is one piece of a broader pattern.

And the response from district leadership has not matched the scale of the problem.

Where is the sustained, public advocacy for increased funding, the transparent engagement with families about the trade-offs and the creative, community-driven problem-solving that a challenge of this magnitude demands?

Instead, we are seeing decisions that feel reactive, piecemeal and, at times, resigned.

We can do better than resignation.

Advocating for the preservation of the KSA art studio is not about pitting arts students against others. It is not about suggesting that one group’s needs matter more. That is a false and unhelpful dichotomy, and it lets larger systems off the hook.

The real issue is this: why are we being asked to choose at all?

School trustees and district leadership have a difficult job. But as an activist, I know what strong pushback looks like, our trustees and district administrators are failing. They need to be far louder in their advocacy, and far more inconvenient to the province, who holds the purse strings. We are in a social moment where quiet communications and begging for scraps simply isn’t good enough. We need bold, outspoken leadership. We also need meaningful consultation with the people impacted by these decisions. That has not happened. Hiding behind budget constraints and opaque process is not only disappointing, but also disrespectful to the people whom they were elected and appointed to serve.

Closing the KSA art studio may solve a short-term space problem. It does not solve the underlying issue. It does, however, set a precedent.

Because once we begin to accept that foundational elements of a school’s identity are flexible, we risk losing more than square footage. We risk losing clarity about what we value in education.

I think back to that younger version of myself, sitting in those early planning meetings, hoping for something that did not yet exist. That hope was not misplaced. It became something real, something meaningful, something worth protecting.

We owe it to the next generation not to quietly scale that vision back.

Because that quiet hum of creativity, of curiosity, of children discovering who they are and what they can do, is not incidental.

It is essential.

And it deserves space.

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Editor’s Note: This opinion piece reflects the views of its author, and does not necessarily represent the views of CFJC Today or Pattison Media.