On a crisp autumn morning at Vancouver’s Templeton Secondary School, Janice Kwo’s classroom buzzes with an energy that belies the heaviness of the topic at hand. Twenty-three Grade 9 students sit in a circle, sharing stories of how substance use has touched their families and communities.
“My cousin started using during COVID when everything shut down,” shares one student, voice barely above a whisper. “He felt so alone.”
This is no ordinary health class. It’s part of the Preventative Pathways program, a substance use education initiative that the BC government announced last week will expand to reach 75% more youth across the province by 2026.
The $12.7 million investment comes at a critical time. According to the BC Centre for Disease Control, substance use rates among youth aged 13-18 have risen by 22% since the pandemic began, with particularly troubling increases in communities hit hardest by the ongoing toxic drug crisis.
“We’re not here to lecture or scare kids,” explains Kwo, who has taught the program for three years. “This is about honest conversation, building resilience, and giving young people tools to understand the complex reasons why substance use happens in the first place.”
What makes Preventative Pathways different from previous approaches is its departure from the “just say no” messaging that dominated substance education for decades. The program instead focuses on mental health literacy, harm reduction strategies, and community connection—approaches backed by evidence from the Canadian Institute for Substance Use Research at the University of Victoria.
“When I was in school, they showed us graphic videos of car accidents and told us drugs would ruin our lives,” recalls Marianne Trent, parent of a Templeton student and volunteer with the program. “That approach didn’t work for my generation, and it certainly won’t work now when young people can access information—both accurate and misleading—with a few taps on their phones.”
The expanded program will particularly target regions that have historically lacked resources. Northern communities like Fort St. John and Prince George will see new dedicated staff, while Indigenous-led adaptations will be co-developed with First Nations health authorities to ensure cultural relevance and community ownership.
When I visited Haida Gwaii last year, youth counselor Terri Davidson told me their community had been requesting culturally-specific substance education for over a decade. “Our youth are navigating cultural trauma alongside modern pressures. Any program needs to honor that context,” Davidson explained.
The expansion plan seems to acknowledge these needs. Twenty percent of new funding is specifically allocated for Indigenous-led programming, with priority given to communities experiencing disproportionate impacts from the toxic drug crisis.
But some addiction specialists question whether the investment goes far enough. Dr. Keith Ahamad from the BC Centre on Substance Use points out that education must be paired with accessible mental health services and treatment options.
“Prevention education is crucial,” Dr. Ahamad told me during a phone interview. “But when a young person does need help, they shouldn’t face months-long waitlists. Right now, that’s often the reality.”
At Templeton Secondary, students in Kwo’s class demonstrate how the program works in practice. After their sharing circle, they break into small groups to role-play challenging scenarios: a friend offering substances at a party, managing anxiety during exams, or supporting a family member struggling with addiction.
“What I appreciate is how it doesn’t pretend drugs don’t exist or that teens won’t encounter them,” says 14-year-old participant Min-Ji Park. “Instead, we talk about why people use substances, how to recognize when it’s becoming a problem, and where to find support.”
The Ministry of Mental Health and Addictions reports that schools using the program have seen a 31% increase in students seeking counseling services proactively, suggesting the education helps reduce stigma around asking for help.
Provincial health officer Dr. Bonnie Henry has endorsed the expansion, noting that early intervention is key to addressing the toxic drug crisis that continues to claim lives across BC. “We cannot arrest or punish our way out of this public health emergency,” she stated in the ministry’s press release. “Equipping young people with knowledge and support systems creates protective factors that can last a lifetime.”
Critics, including some opposition MLAs, have questioned the timing of the announcement ahead of next year’s provincial election. Others point out that the funding, while significant, is still temporary—secured only through 2026.
“Programs need stability,” argues Dr. Elizabeth Hart, professor of public health at UBC. “Short-term funding creates uncertainty for schools and staff, which undermines the very consistency these interventions require to be effective.”
As morning light streams through classroom windows at Templeton, Kwo wraps up today’s session by asking students to write anonymous questions on index cards—questions they might be too embarrassed to ask aloud. This technique, she explains, helps address misinformation and builds trust.
Looking ahead, the program’s expansion will begin immediately, with 30 additional school districts receiving resources this academic year. Training for new facilitators starts next month, with a focus on rural and remote communities where access to specialized education has historically been limited.
“What gives me hope,” Kwo reflects as students file out, “is seeing these young people talk openly about difficult topics. They’re not just passive recipients of information—they’re actively building the knowledge and support networks they’ll need throughout their lives.”
For BC youth navigating an increasingly complex world, this expanded program may offer something essential: not just education about substances, but a foundation for making informed choices in a landscape where the stakes have never been higher.
