The morning light glints off accumulated ice crystals on the corner windows of Mildred Hall School. It’s only 9:30 AM, but principal Elizabeth Brace has already taped off three water fountains in the main hallway. Slips of paper with childlike handwriting read “Do Not Use” on red construction paper.
“The kids made the signs themselves,” Brace tells me, her breath visible in the chilly corridor. “We wanted them to understand what was happening without causing panic.”
What’s happening is the discovery of elevated lead levels in the drinking water at this K-8 school—the third educational facility in Yellowknife to report such findings since mandatory testing began last fall. The territorial government confirmed last week that water from multiple fixtures at Mildred Hall School exceeded Health Canada’s maximum acceptable concentration for lead.
I watch as 7-year-old Leah adjusts her small water bottle at a filling station that remains operational. “My mom gave me this special bottle,” she explains proudly, unaware of the complexity behind this new routine.
For parents like Jason Catholique, whose daughter attends second grade at Mildred Hall, the discovery reopens old wounds about environmental trust in the North. “First it was arsenic from the mines, now it’s lead in the schools,” he says, referencing the Giant Mine remediation project that continues to address decades of toxic contamination just kilometers away. “When does it end?”
The Yellowknife Education District No. 1 has moved quickly to address the issue, shutting off affected water sources and installing filtration systems at others. According to district superintendent Cindi Vaselenak, bottled water is being provided while permanent solutions are implemented.
“We’re following Health Canada guidelines precisely,” Vaselenak explains as we tour the school’s water infrastructure. “Any fixture showing lead levels above 5 parts per billion is immediately decommissioned.”
Health Canada lowered its acceptable lead threshold from 10 to 5 parts per billion in 2019, reflecting growing scientific consensus that there is no safe level of lead exposure, particularly for children. Even low-level exposure can impact cognitive development, behavior, and academic achievement.
Dr. André Corriveau, the Northwest Territories’ Chief Public Health Officer, emphasizes that the territory’s proactive testing approach is actually a positive step. “Many jurisdictions don’t test comprehensively. We’re finding issues that have likely existed for decades and addressing them now.”
Walking through the school’s basement with maintenance supervisor Dave Wasylciw, the likely culprit becomes apparent: aging infrastructure. Yellowknife’s building boom occurred primarily in the 1970s, when lead solder was commonly used in plumbing systems.
“These buildings weren’t designed with today’s standards in mind,” Wasylciw says, pointing to corroded pipes. “The freeze-thaw cycles we experience up here can accelerate deterioration too.”
For Indigenous communities in the North, this latest environmental concern adds to a complex relationship with water. Dëneze Nakehk’o, a Dene activist and parent of two school-aged children, sees the issue through a broader lens.
“Water is life—mı̨́ dëghá’ą́ hǫt’e—as we say in Dene Yatıé,” Nakehk’o tells me over tea in a downtown café. “Our people have always known the importance of clean water. Now we’re seeing these Western institutions catching up to what our knowledge systems have emphasized for generations.”
The Northwest Territories isn’t alone in confronting this issue. A 2019 investigation by Global News and the Toronto Star found that a third of Canadian schools and daycare centers had dangerous levels of lead in drinking water. Unlike some provinces, the NWT has implemented mandatory testing protocols following Health Canada’s guidelines.
Minister of Education, Culture and Employment R.J. Simpson acknowledges the financial challenges ahead. “We’re looking at approximately $1.2 million to address immediate filtration needs across affected schools,” he states in an email. “Long-term infrastructure replacement will require federal partnership.”
For now, the territorial government and school boards are focusing on immediate mitigation. This includes regular flushing of water systems—running taps for several minutes before use—and installation of NSF-certified filters specifically designed to remove lead.
Back at Mildred Hall School, I observe afternoon dismissal. Parents huddle against the cold, discussing the situation in hushed tones while kids burst through doors into the crystalline air. Some clutch reusable water bottles that have become a necessary school supply.
Sarah Erasmus, whose family has lived in Yellowknife for generations, summarizes the community’s resilience: “We’ve dealt with contamination before. We’ll handle this too. But at some point, we need to stop reacting and start preventing.”
As I prepare to leave, principal Brace shows me a science project where fifth-graders are monitoring water quality themselves. “We’re using this as a learning opportunity,” she says. “These kids will grow up understanding environmental stewardship in ways previous generations didn’t.”
The water crisis at Yellowknife schools represents a troubling discovery but also a potential turning point. As one community tackles yet another environmental challenge, the response may serve as a model for aging infrastructure across Northern communities—where clean water isn’t just an expectation but a fundamental right still being fought for.
