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by Catherine Mwitta for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics


This article is the second in a series addressing four key challenges the next generation of Ontarians will face: Climate catastrophe, education reform, the housing crisis, and career opportunities.


Photograph by mana5280
Photograph by mana5280

Editor's Note:


The following article reflects the views & analysis of the author. As with all opinion and essay submissions, the piece has been edited for clarity and reviewed carefully for factual accuracy, but the interpretations & arguments are the author’s own. The 44 North publishes an array of perspectives & voices to encourage and ensure thoughtful engagement with complex social, political, historical, and cultural issues.


In 2022, youth unemployment rates hit a record low. By 2025, 437,000 people aged 15 to 24 were unemployed and looking for work, up 57 percent from 290,000 in 2022. Today, Canada's unemployment rate is at 6.5 percent, up 0.1 percent from Aug 2026. The Canadian economy lost 68,000 jobs in September, 48,000 of those lost among youth aged 15-24. Young people remained unemployed the longest, with teenagers hit hardest.


Such drastic changes could be attributed to government policy shifts, including Parliament raising immigration quotas and loosening restrictions on international students' work weeks. The Fraser Institute argues that an influx of Canadian residents and higher wages have led employers to hire more qualified workers. In 2026, competition has increased as more experienced workers laid off by U.S. tariffs—along with tech companies replacing employees with artificial intelligence (AI)—reenter the job market.


Other factors behind this large loss of youth jobs include reduced entry-level hiring. Many roles labelled as "entry-level" now demand two to five years of prior experience, transforming them into mid-level positions at junior-level pay. 



Dispelling myths 


It’s false that artificial intelligence is the main contributor to rising youth unemployment. No current evidence shows that adopting AI in the workforce has caused extensive job losses in Canada. 


A Statistics Canada survey found that 19.2 percent of Canadian businesses used AI to produce goods or provide services. 25.2 percent of businesses plan to use AI over the next 12 months, up from 10.6 percent in Q3 2024, while 22.1 percent of businesses are unsure about future AI adoption and 52.7 percent do not plan to use it. Only 8 percent of businesses use AI significantly in core operations; 50 percent use it to a low or moderate degree.


AI use in the workplace is still rapidly developing and may have a greater impact on the early-career squeeze in the future. However, the general public’s thoughts on AI at the moment mirror preconceived notions of what society would look like after the Industrial Revolution.


The history of labour in Canada 


In the early 19th century, the fur trade and exploitation of Canada’s other natural resources, such as logging and fishing, were the main sources of work besides agriculture. The second industry, the apprenticeship system, accounted for 10 percent of the urban labour force. After the Industrial Revolution, work shifted from producing life’s staples to earning a living; demand for unskilled and skilled workers grew rapidly. 


With the rise of factories came the rise of the working class. Boys and girls were expected to work; women and children were paid less than men; long hours were often the primary complaints of factory workers; dangerous working conditions and beatings from employers were commonplace.


During this time, Canada had approximately 165 labour organizations. They campaigned for better working conditions, and workers organized many strikes to improve their rights. By 1956, the Canadian Labour Congress was founded through the merger of two major labour bodies: The Trades and Labour Congress of Canada and the Canadian Congress of Labour. The merger created a single, unified national voice for Canadian workers. 


Canada's labour laws have continued to improve since, but some argue the government’s current efforts are not enough. 



The future of the job market


Labour unions and the Canadian government may misunderstand Canadians' frustrations with the job market—it’s undergoing another revolution similar to the Industrial Revolution. As such, it feels impossible to guess what the economic landscape will be in a decade. What will “work” look like in the future of transnational employment, labour globalization, and AI integration in the workplace? What shifts will be needed to rebalance the entry-level jobs available to youth, and bring the workplace into equilibrium? Thankfully, the forecasts aren’t hopeless, though change might be a few years away.


The 2025 World Economic Forum Future of Jobs Report predicts a decline in cashiers, ticket clerks and other clerical roles, including postal service clerks, bank tellers and data entry clerks. Some existing industries expected to grow the most are farmworkers, delivery drivers, construction workers and salespersons. “Baby Boomers,” the largest and oldest generation of our population, will drive demand for care economy jobs such as nursing, social work, counselling, and personal care aides, which are also expected to grow significantly over the next five years.


World Economic Forum, Future of Jobs Survey 2024
World Economic Forum, Future of Jobs Survey 2024

Technical, environmentally friendly, and AI-integrated positions will become commonplace on job boards like Indeed. Likewise, the gig economy will replace traditional roles; temporary, freelance, and project-based contracts will allow people to have flexible careers across multiple industries.


In the near future, youth applying for jobs could consider roles in healthcare as personal support workers, nurse practitioners, and mental health professionals. The second industry to expand in the coming years is tech. In post-secondary school, teens could consider specializing in Cybersecurity and AI for long-term career security. Lastly, Natural Resources Canada projects 130,000 additional job openings in electricity and renewable energy between 2028 and 2050, such as solar and wind power, which will be another industry for young people to look for work stability. 


The most positive shifts in the job market will hopefully be workplace flexibility, which shapes how, when and where people work; skills-based hiring, which connects workers to more opportunities based on their abilities rather than traditional credentials; and lifelong, continuous learning for long-term career growth.


In part three of this four-part series looking into the future, I’ll be diving into Canada’s environmental future and how climate change will impact young Canadian’s livelihoods.

Catherine Mwitta has a bachelor’s in creative writing from Kwantlen Polytechnic University and a certification in Journalism from Langara College. She is an editor at Augur Magazine and INKspire. Likewise, bylines at Stir Vancouver, SAD Mag, This Magazine, C Magazine and Bluffs Monitor.


by Catherine Mwitta for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics


OSAP changes have been implemented, and they're hurting Canadians in more ways than one. 


This article is the first in a series addressing four key challenges the next generation of Ontarians will face: Climate catastrophe, education reform, the housing crisis, and career opportunities.


Students protesting the Ford government's OSAP changes. Via Evan Mitsui/CBC.
Students protesting the Ford government's OSAP changes. Via Evan Mitsui/CBC.

Editor's Note:


The following article reflects the views & analysis of the author. As with all opinion and essay submissions, the piece has been edited for clarity and reviewed carefully for factual accuracy, but the interpretations & arguments are the author’s own. The 44 North publishes an array of perspectives & voices to encourage and ensure thoughtful engagement with complex social, political, historical, and cultural issues.


Doug Ford’s changes to the Ontario Student Assistance Program (OSAP) came into effect on Aug. 1: The maximum portion of provincial funding provided as non-repayable grants dropped from 85 percent to 25 percent. The remaining 75 percent (or more) is now distributed as repayable loans. But there hasn’t just been a change to OSAP; the seven-year tuition freeze for publicly assisted colleges and universities has also ended. Schools are permitted to raise tuition rates by up to two per cent annually over a three-year period. 


The direct impact of these changes


Via CSA
Via CSA

Students are not only navigating a higher loans-to-grants ratio—they’re also receiving less OSAP funding for 2026/2027. This often means taking on side jobs to pay for the rest of their tuition, let alone other cost-of-living expenses. In addition to tuition fees, students must pay out-of-pocket for ancillary, technology, lab, exam, and administrative fees, which can add up to hundreds of dollars each year. The list of costs grows to include course materials such as textbooks, kits, required software, phone plans, transit fares, and housing and food if students aren’t living with parents/guardians. 


The cost of higher education is increasing in more ways than one, and those most affected are private college students, middle-class families and returning adult students. Students attending private colleges will receive all of their provincial funding as loans. While the OSAP grant was specifically designed to help middle-class families, changing the grant-to-loan ratio will profoundly affect students who don’t quite meet the threshold for social assistance but also lack sufficient funds to support their postsecondary education without government support. Lower-income students can still benefit from Ontario's enhanced Student Access Guarantee (SAG), a bursary designed to help cover the gap between OSAP and direct program costs (tuition, books, and mandatory fees). If lower-income students receive SAG, they don't need to repay the grant.


Via CSA
Via CSA

How students and the government are responding  


Shortly after the announcement of these changes to OSAP in February 2026, many Canadians protested the policy change at Queen's Park. However, unlike when the Ford government faced harsh backlash for introducing Bill 60—a proposal that would have replaced evergreen month-to-month leases with fixed-term alternatives—which ultimately led them to withdraw it, the OSAP changes have remained in place.


The Ontario Undergraduate Student Alliance (OUSA) and College Student Alliance (CSA) surveyed students about the new OSAP changes. “Surveyed students reported that 43 percent of those pursuing an undergraduate degree rely on OSAP funding to cover more than half of the costs of completing their education. [...] 63 percent of university students stated that they were concerned about the accumulation of debt and being burdened with long-term debt after graduation.”


Ford stands by his decision, citing in an early August conference,“[T]he auditor said what we [were] giving [in grants] before was unacceptable, unsustainable.”



What does this mean for Canadian youth? 


In North American culture, education has long been recognized as the safest path to upward economic mobility, yet today, the price of a degree seems to be lifelong debt. Furthermore, while postsecondary tuition rises, entry-level roles are disappearing due to the current job shortage and companies' increased use of AI to automate tasks like data entry. Statistics Canada found that the average rate of unemployment in Canada was at 10 percent for those with Bachelor’s degrees, and nine percent for those with graduate or doctorate degrees. 


Education has also always been an avenue of opportunity for first-generation immigrants like me. My father didn't earn his engineering degree until his late 50s. My mother became a personal support worker in her early 40s. Both were in different industries before their career transitions, and those transitions wouldn’t have been possible without government support. As someone considering returning to college to complete a Master's in Fine Arts, the change in the distribution of OSAP funds would balloon my existing undergraduate loans. I don’t know if I’ll ever pay them off. 



Higher education was once seen as the solution for Canadians to gain economic stability. The Ford government’s divestment from postsecondary tuition funding sends a clear message to those living in Ontario that a cultural shift has occurred. If access to education is slowly becoming a privilege available only to the wealthy, what does that mean for young Canadians from lower-income backgrounds who want to improve their living circumstances? 


When barriers to postsecondary schools—which offer networking, training and internships—are created, this affects not just disenfranchised Canadians. Our education system needs reform, but I fear this won’t happen without a change in government and its priorities. I can only hope that the effects of this policy won’t be irreversible by the time we see these changes.


Stay tuned for the second part of this article series, which will dive into the current state of the job market and how young Canadians are finding their footing in the workforce as the U.S.-Canada trade war continues and AI replaces entry-level jobs.


Catherine Mwitta has a bachelor’s in creative writing from Kwantlen Polytechnic University and a certification in Journalism from Langara College. She is an editor at Augur Magazine and INKspire. Likewise, bylines at Stir Vancouver, SAD Mag, This Magazine, C Magazine and Bluffs Monitor.


by Farhaan Batchkhan for The 44 North, Guest Writer


A sneak peek of our live event, Beyond Words. Please stay tuned for the event recording, photos, and more! Photo above by Cal Campos (The Quiet / Cal Campos Media). IG: @calvin.campos.
A sneak peek of our live event, Beyond Words. Please stay tuned for the event recording, photos, and more! Photo above by Cal Campos (The Quiet / Cal Campos Media). IG: @calvin.campos.

"Silence, I’ve realized, is its own kind of language." 

We’ve all heard it. 


The quick deflection after a slur slips out, after someone mimics an accent for laughs, after a name is butchered one too many times and met with giggles instead of correction: 


“Relax, it was just a joke,” or “Chill out, it wasn’t that deep.”


But there’s something we don’t say: Those words aren’t light. They’re heavy. They’re tiny cuts that accumulate until belonging feels conditional, until you begin editing yourself before you even speak.


As a Grade 11 student in Pickering, Ontario, I’ve watched this scene rewind and repeat in our hallways, cafeterias, and classrooms. A classmate from Tunisia once told me that he stopped introducing himself with his full name after hearing that someone turned it into a meme. Another friend, whose family immigrated from Jamaica, said she learned to laugh along when people called her hair “wild” or “unprofessional,” not because it didn’t hurt, but because calling it out felt riskier than staying silent.


Silence, I’ve realized, is its own kind of language.


When teachers allow racist comments to slide—to “avoid tension”—they’re teaching us what’s tolerable. When students shrug off microaggressions as “not a big deal,” they’re reinforcing a hierarchy of whose dignity matters. Language doesn’t exist in isolation; it shapes what we normalize, what we challenge, and ultimately, who feels safe enough to show up as themselves.


Addressing racist language isn’t just about individual slurs; it’s about how anti-Black language functions systemically, whether embedded in jokes, nicknames, assumptions about intelligence, discipline disparities, or who’s labelled “disruptive” instead of “passionate.” I’ve witnessed Black students reprimanded for raising their voices in debate while others are praised for the same energy. I’ve heard phrases like “ghetto” or “acting Black” tossed around like harmless slang—never questioned. 


For a long time, I told myself I wasn’t part of the problem because I never used those words nor the tone that most often accompanies them. But neutrality isn’t innocence. There were moments I remained quiet when I should’ve spoken, not out of malice, but fear. I was afraid of being labelled “too sensitive,” afraid of making things awkward, and afraid that my voice wouldn’t change anything anyway. That’s the trap: We wait for someone braver, louder, more “qualified” to step in, while harm continues unchecked.


Real courage, I’ve learned, isn’t just confrontation but rather curiosity. It’s asking why certain words are used so casually in some spaces and not others. It’s wondering who benefits when we dismiss pain as “over-sensitivity.” And it’s having the humility to admit when we’ve been part of the problem—even when unintentionally. Vulnerability means saying, “I messed up,” or “I didn’t know, but I want to learn.” It means listening when someone says, “That hurt,” instead of rushing to defend your intent.


This work doesn’t just fall on students. Everyone holds responsibility.


  • Teachers must interrupt harmful language in real time, not days, weeks, or months later. Not vaguely, but clearly: “That word carries pain. We don’t use it here.”

  • Administrators must ensure disciplinary policies don’t punish Black students more harshly for the same infractions.

  • Peers must move beyond passive allyship (“I’m not racist”) to active co-conspiratorship (“I won’t let racism happen in front of me”).


But accountability without repair is empty. What happens after the harm? Too often, nothing. The student who was mocked goes home carrying shame. The student who spoke the slur faces no consequence—or worse, becomes a martyr for “free speech.”


I dream of a school where repair is built into our culture. Imagine if, instead of detention slips, we have restorative circles after harmful language is used—spaces where everyone can share how they’re impacted and collaboratively decide how to rebuild trust. Imagine student-led workshops where we unpack the history behind certain slurs or explore how language shapes identity across cultures.


Belonging shouldn’t be a poster on the wall; it should be the air we breathe when we walk into class.


Building that world requires structural change, but it also starts small. It starts with one person choosing to interrupt a “joke” with “Actually, that’s not funny.” It starts with a teacher pausing mid-lesson to say, “Let’s talk about why that word carries pain.” It starts with students like me admitting when we’ve stayed silent alongside a commitment to do better.


Words shape worlds. And if we believe schools should be places where every student feels seen, valued, and safe—especially Black students, whose joy and brilliance are too often policed by language—then we have to treat words like the powerful force they are.


The future I’m fighting for isn’t perfect. People will still stumble, misunderstand, and hurt each other. But in that future, we won’t hide behind “It was just a joke.” We’ll choose courage over comfort, vulnerability over defensiveness, and repair over silence.


And maybe, just maybe, that’s how we build a world worth belonging to.


Farhaan Batchkhan is a Grade 11 student, aspiring physician, and community leader from Pickering, Ontario. With more than 1,000 volunteer hours, he has been actively involved in tutoring, youth mentorship, sports coaching, healthcare, and student leadership. His experiences as a youth advisory member for multiple non-profits, a volunteer, and an advocate have strengthened his commitment to helping others and promoting educational opportunities for young people. Fluent in French and English, Farhaan is passionate about medicine, community engagement, and empowering the next generation through service and leadership.


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