As the TES recently highlighted, many schools and headteachers are dealing with increasing incidents of racism, with little or no top-down support from the government about how to handle rising racial tension within school communities. These incidents can be seen as symptoms of a wider crisis where misinformation, fear, and hatred are reaching our young people faster than ever before.
School libraries and the dedicated librarians who staff them, can offer a crucial part of the solution to the stereotypes being perpetuated around race and national identity. School librarians can offer a practical way to embed the critical thinking skills that our children and young people need and to expose pupils to diverse stories that foster empathy.
In a world saturated with competing narratives, viral misinformation, and increasingly polarised discourse, our children and young people need to learn how to question what they're told, whose voices are being centred, and whose are missing. When properly staffed, resourced and valued, school libraries can be powerful spaces for developing these skills and for discovering voices that are different to our own.
We are pleased to share an opinion piece by Tasneem Abdur-Rashid, author of Odd Girl Out which examines the vital role diverse literature plays in helping young people question harmful narratives about race and identity:
Raising Critical Thinkers, Not Bystanders
Recent events have shown how quickly misinformation, fear, and anger can spill into the streets. The current rise in openly racist rhetoric is not happening in a vacuum; it’s rooted in false narratives about immigration, identity, and what it means to be British - narratives children are exposed to from an early age. Some absorb them at home, others through social media, the news, or their peers. The urgent question for schools is: how do we equip young people to recognise and challenge these narratives, rather than absorb them uncritically?
This is where literature becomes more than entertainment. As Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop said, books are mirrors - reflecting young people’s own experiences - and windows, opening perspectives beyond their own. Fiction fosters empathy without lecturing and illuminates the “why” behind lived experiences in ways statistics cannot. It is also the reason I wrote Odd Girl Out.
Too often, diversity is treated as a box-ticking exercise: a multicultural day, a poster of world religions, a couple of books by writers of colour on a reading list. While well-intentioned, these gestures are not enough. They risk presenting diversity as something separate or occasional, rather than woven into daily school life. Worse, they suggest racism is something “out there,” rather than embedded in structures, institutions, and interactions.
If we want critical thinkers rather than bystanders, children need tools to question the narratives they encounter. When they see headlines about immigration, politicians framing “them” versus “us,” or viral TikToks fuelling stereotypes, they should be able to ask: Who is telling this story? Whose voice is missing? Who benefits from this framing?
As a writer, I can provide stories that spark these questions but educators are the gateway to exposing children to them. In the classroom, a novel where a protagonist experiences exclusion or racism can be a springboard: Why did this happen? How did it make the character feel? Where else do we see this thinking? Books like Onjali Raouf’s The Boy at the Back of the Class can open discussions about politics and conflict, as well as empire, colonisation, and the legacies of famine and forced labour. This helps children understand why migration flows exist, not just that they do.
This is why decolonising the curriculum matters. Decolonisation isn’t about erasing Shakespeare or Dickens; it’s about broadening the curriculum to reflect the full range of voices that have shaped our society. It asks: whose stories are consistently centred, and whose are missing? By incorporating global, marginalised, and postcolonial voices, schools help students see that knowledge itself is not neutral, it has always been shaped by power.
Libraries are also powerful allies here. A diverse school library isn’t just a resource; it’s a statement of values. It tells students that all identities and experiences deserve space on the shelf. When a child finds themselves in a book, it validates their existence. When they encounter someone unlike themselves, it challenges assumptions. Both are vital in nurturing empathy and critical thought.
But this work requires intentionality. Adding one or two diverse titles is not enough. Nor is avoiding difficult conversations for fear of “getting it wrong.” Silence can be more harmful than stumbling, because it leaves space for misinformation and prejudice to take root. Schools are not neutral spaces; they either challenge inequity or allow it to flourish. Choosing diverse literature, decolonising the curriculum, and facilitating thoughtful dialogue is not about pushing an agenda, but about equipping students to think for themselves in a world saturated with competing narratives.
Many students are first or second-generation immigrants. Others are surrounded by media that blames economic or social problems on immigration. They see protests on the news or have even attended them, as seen last week where thousands of protestors attended Tommy Robinson's hate march with their families and children. Without the skills to question these influences, we risk raising passive consumers of rhetoric instead of active, critical thinkers.
The alternative is silence, which, in the face of prejudice, produces bystanders. If young people are not guided to question rhetoric, they risk normalising it. If, however, they learn through stories and discussion to see nuance and humanity, they are more likely to grow up to speak out when seeing injustice.
For teachers, this doesn’t mean reinventing the curriculum overnight. It means embedding anti-racist practice into everyday teaching. For librarians, it means curating collections that reflect a wide spectrum of voices, and championing those titles through displays, book clubs, and reading challenges. Every recommendation is an opportunity to broaden a child’s worldview.
Ultimately, responsibility doesn’t fall on schools alone. Parents, policymakers, and publishers also play their part. But educators are uniquely positioned to make an immediate impact. A single classroom discussion, sparked by a novel, can change the way a student sees themselves - or others - for life.
We can’t control the headlines, protests, or prejudices. But we can give students the tools to question them. Embedding anti-racism into the curriculum, and using books to spark dialogue, is not a luxury, it’s an urgent necessity in the world our young people are inheriting. Because the choice is stark: we either raise critical thinkers who stand up to hate, or bystanders who let it grow unchecked.
How is your school coping with the current unsettling dialogue around immigration, race and St George's flags? Do you have anything you'd like to share about how your school library is contributing to helping young people navigate prejudice and think more critically? Contact us on [email protected]