Comments on (social) media and elsewhere have expressed frustration over why teaching continues in Russian, to varying degrees, in some classes at Kohtla-Järve schools (a decision also made by other municipalities). First of all, everything is legal, and second, the municipal councils made their decisions based on proposals from school boards.

Since many people are unfamiliar with the issue, here's some background. In so-called Russian schools, also known as transition schools, all subjects began being taught in Estonian last fall for grades one and four. Starting next academic year, Estonian-language instruction will extend to grades one, two, four and five. That means in grades three, six, seven, eight and nine, instruction in Russian is still permitted during the 2025-2026 school year, but to allow this, school boards had to submit formal proposals to their respective municipalities this spring.

Those opposed to granting schools permission to continue partial instruction in Russian argue that it harms students. But let's consider the students who, up to now, have generally had just two — and at best, up to four — Estonian language lessons per week, lessons that often haven't placed much emphasis on actual instruction. Now these students are expected to begin studying all subjects in Estonian during the final years of basic school. That would only create confusion in subject learning right before entering high school.

Instead of abruptly switching to teaching all subjects in Estonian, the focus should be on internal changes within schools that wouldn't disrupt subject comprehension. In the so-called non-transition grades — meaning next school year's grades three, six, seven, eight and nine — schools could offer intensive Estonian language instruction, which experts say is entirely feasible within the weekly academic schedule.

You cannot remake a child who doesn't speak a language in one year

Extracurricular activities in schools and municipalities should also increasingly take place in Estonian. In fact, more attention should be given to extracurricular activities in the transition to Estonian-language education, because while attending school is mandatory, extracurriculars tend to genuinely interest children — unless, of course, it's solely the parent's initiative. This kind of environment fosters natural, low-pressure communication, making it an excellent opportunity to practice the language.

Such efforts should also be supported at the national level. A good example is the Estonian Table Tennis Association, which decided immediately after the restoration of independence that those who don't speak Estonian would not be eligible for the national team. This gave dozens of young people from Narva and Aseri extra motivation to learn the language.

Some, including individuals closely involved in education, give the impression that if all Russian-language schools were to start teaching in Estonian immediately, all of Estonia's issues related to the Estonian language would be solved.

As if a Russian-speaking youth who studies Estonian only in the ninth grade could graduate from an Estonian-language school and then seamlessly enter high school with that diploma. But is it really that simple? If the desired level hasn't been achieved even in many language immersion classes over several years, no slogan is going to turn a non-Estonian-speaking child into a fluent speaker within one year — through instruction only in ninth grade.

Even more troubling is the growing trend of shaming schools that continue teaching in Russian, along with the municipal council members who support them, labeling them as obstacles to the transition to Estonian-language education. Once again, it bears repeating that partially Russian-language instruction is taking place in accordance with the law, and no one can be accused of breaking it.

Problem not lack of methodology but will to learn

Opponents of the gradual transition to Estonian-language education argue that the process is being rushed. They usually cite two main reasons.

First, that in 30 years of regained independence, the Estonian state has failed to develop suitable materials for teaching subjects in Estonian to non-native speakers.

But time has shown that the issue lies less with the lack of materials and more with the fact that when there is no desire to learn Estonian or acquire proficiency in the language, any excuse will do. Today, there are many different teaching resources and platforms available, and it is usually the complacent teacher — one who does not tailor instruction to their students — who insists on relying solely on a single textbook. Regardless of the language of instruction, every teacher must adapt their materials to fit their classroom.

This is not a problem of methodology, but one of student and parent attitudes, as well as the motivation and skill of teachers. Even state high schools have acknowledged that students from Russian-language schools enter with widely varying levels of Estonian proficiency, and this inconsistency stems not so much from the students themselves, but from the schools they attended.

The second common argument from those who support Russian-language education is that they are taxpayers and therefore have the right to education in their mother tongue. I would remind them that taxes are paid to the Estonian state and the official language in Estonia is Estonian. Education in Estonia is guaranteed in this language — for the children of both honest taxpayers and those who avoid paying taxes.

Estonia is not wealthy enough for every taxpayer to demand education in their own native language (according to the population register, around 250 nationalities live in Estonia, speaking about 125 different languages). The state already goes above and beyond by providing schools for larger ethnic groups with enhanced instruction in their language and culture. The state's obligation is to ensure that all children achieve a solid command of the national language.

Additionally, the government provides financial support to national cultural societies, many of which run hobby schools where children can study their heritage language and culture. There are more than 30 such extracurricular schools across Estonia today.

No one in Estonia is forbidden from acquiring an education in Russian or any other language. If parents pool their resources, they can establish a private school where instruction takes place in any language from anywhere in the world. The only requirement is compliance with the Private Schools Act, which states: "In basic schools and upper secondary [high] schools where Estonian is not the language of instruction, Estonian language instruction must be provided to the extent set by the national curriculum to ensure that the graduate can continue their education at the next level in Estonian."

Many of the problems we see today could have been avoided if this principle had been consistently followed by all Russian-language schools and preschools. The root of the issue lies in the fact that parents, teachers, school leaders, municipalities and the state have, for years, turned a blind eye — resulting in Estonian language instruction in many schools being far below acceptable standards.

There are numerous examples, but one of the most troubling is the need to provide crash courses in Estonian — at taxpayers' expense — to conscripts who studied in Russian-language schools and went on to serve in the Estonian military. These are Estonian citizens who completed school without acquiring even a basic command of Estonian. The state cannot afford to risk the safety of a conscript, or those around him, due to a lack of proficiency in the national language.

Estonian and Ida-Viru high schools

A separate but related issue is the teaching of Estonian in schools and the state of Estonian identity in Ida-Viru County. The Estonian state has been criticized — rightfully so — for the fact that while Estonian-language schools were maintained in Ida-Viru during the Estonian SSR era, the government now provides funding to municipalities for the construction of new school buildings on the condition that they close the last remaining high schools in the region where children with Estonian as a home language still form the majority.

What's more, the focus has been placed on the notion that the opponents of these school closures are only ethnic Estonians seeking to isolate themselves. Overlooked is the fact that this is also important for children with a different native language who wish to study in an Estonian-language environment, in schools where most students speak Estonian as their first language. Even in Toila High School, which has recently drawn public attention, there are quite a few students whose home language is Russian — but they do not form the majority there.

Credit is due to the parents at Toila School who took their case to court and were supported by former Minister of Education Tõnis Lukas. The legal battle underscored a basic truth: People outside of Ida-Viru County often fail to understand why Estonians do not consider state high schools truly Estonian-language institutions, even though instruction is increasingly conducted in Estonian. Or why, for Estonian-speaking parents in Ida-Viru, it is so important to distinguish between the language of instruction and the dominant language in the overall school environment.

Supporters of closing Toila School's high school section argued that students spend the majority of their time in class, where Estonian is spoken, and that breaks — when other languages are heard in the hallways — make up only a small part of the school day. Yet they ignored the fact that once students leave the building, they're again surrounded by a Russian-language environment. And although many of these students take the national Estonian language exam as if it were their native language, receiving instruction in Estonian at school by no means guarantees that Estonian will become their actual mother tongue.

There are fewer and fewer schools in Ida-Viru County (including basic schools) where the majority of students speak Estonian not just in class but also outside the classroom — using correct grammatical endings, complete sentences and age-appropriate vocabulary. This has created a situation in one of Estonia's largest counties where the number of native Estonian-speaking students is declining, even as the number of students taking the national exams in Estonian as a first language continues to rise.

Ultimately, this has become one of the driving forces behind the dwindling Estonian population in Ida-Viru County, as many families move to the capital. At the same time, the idea of forming a political party for Ida-Viru residents is starting to gain traction — because in addition to its local support base, such a party could likely secure a notable number of votes in Tallinn as well, in both local and parliamentary elections.

Estonian and May 9

Much has been said about Estonian as the official language of the Republic of Estonia, and the state has been criticized for not doing enough over the past 30-plus years to teach Estonian in Russian-language schools. But let's remember that Estonian was officially the state language even during the Estonian SSR era — so difficulties in teaching and learning Estonian were already present during the "glorious Soviet times."

And not once has a descendant of those who "liberated" Estonia from the Nazi occupation answered "yes" when I've asked whether they've ever spoken to their elders about why, after choosing to stay in Estonia or arriving here from elsewhere, their families never managed to learn the language of the republic they now call home.

One common argument from non-Estonian speakers is that they had — and still have — no one to speak Estonian with in Narva, Sillamäe, Lasnamäe or elsewhere. But then one must ask: how did these areas come to exist in the Estonian SSR where ethnic Estonians became such a small minority? How did it happen that acquiring the Estonian language seemed so meaningless to some of the country's residents that they passed that mindset on to their children — children now living in a free Estonia? Children whose teachers have either failed or not even tried, over 11 years of schooling, to teach them basic Estonian words like "left" and "right" or "closer" and "farther."

Some have asked why Estonians hate Russians. Stop right there. We do not hate Russians. Only fools are hostile to representatives of other nationalities who want to make Estonia a better place — and yes, we have our fair share of fools, too.

If a Russian who has lived in Estonia their entire life sees the curved structure on Pirita tee and asks what it is, that already shows promise. It means they've taken a step toward understanding Estonian culture. Our wish, as Estonians, is simply that those steps toward mutual understanding would be bigger and more frequent.

One idea — so far unrealized — would be for one of ERR's channels to create an Estonian-language program in which Russian-speaking Estonians who have learned Estonian (sometimes against their family's wishes) and come to love Estonia as it is, could tell their stories. So we could hear from Russian-speaking Estonians who don't believe Estonian is a language no "normal" Russian could ever learn. Fortunately, there are more and more Russians in Estonia who are proud to speak the language of the country they live in — Estonian.

In conclusion, I wish you a meaningful May 9 — both to those who celebrate it in Estonia as Europe Day, and to those who see it as the end of World War II. But to the latter group, a respectful request: mark the occasion privately with loved ones, and when you lay flowers and bow your heads at war memorials, take a moment to reflect on this — what the arrival of the Red Army meant for Estonia's indigenous population was not liberation, but simply the replacement of one occupation with another. And if thinking such thoughts in Russian feels disloyal to your ancestors, then think them in Estonian.

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