We always say that parents are children’s first educators, but are parents being heard and listened to in the same way?

In Muslim Mothers and their Children’s Schooling, Suma Din weaves together the lived experiences of mothers from very diverse backgrounds in a book that is about education, but starts at home – with how Muslim mothers see their role, their faith and their children’s future.

In public debate, the Muslim mum is frequently spoken about, almost never listened to directly. When someone like Nilofer says, “I’m a Muslim and a mum … and there’s a responsibility of not just raising children but raising them in a certain way,” she is just describing daily life. Her words point to something schools often miss: when they talk about “parents”, they rarely think of a Muslim mum who carries responsibilities in this life and, from here perspective, also in the next.

The Preface, Introduction and Chapter 7 (“Narrative bridges”) of her book offer a rich starting point for anyone who wants real partnership with Muslim families. They show why Muslim mothers’ voices matter, how school–home communication really works, and what changes when we begin with lived experience instead of headlines and stereotypes.

Hearing from a Muslim mum

Din is very clear about where she stands. She writes as an adult educator, an English teacher, a member of a faith community and a mother of three children educated in the state sector. In other words, she writes as a professional and as a Muslim mum herself.

Instead of pretending these roles can be separated, she acknowledges that they overlap all the time – in staffrooms, in community projects, in her own kitchen. That overlap helped her notice how rarely Muslim mothers appear in research and policy on schooling, even in areas where most parents at the school gate are a Muslim mum juggling pushchairs, homework and dinner.

Years of Family Learning work in disadvantaged neighbourhoods, and two decades in faith-based programmes with Muslim mothers and teenage girls, showed the same pattern: deep commitment to education from mothers whose perspectives were almost absent from public debate.

Her response is this book. Din describes it as an attempt to “open a window” on the thoughts, struggles and contributions of Muslim mothers, and to build a “vocal bridge” between those mothers and the school world. She starts with narrative – what each Muslim mum actually says – and only then brings in theory as a way of making sense of their words.

Meeting the school gate

One of Din’s most useful insights for practitioners is about where communication actually happens.

Schools tend to focus on official channels: newsletters, emails, parents’ evenings, formal meetings. But Din reminds us of the unnamed, “grey” spaces where a Muslim mum often feels safest to speak honestly:

• a conversation at the classroom door
• a quick word in the car park
• a chat during a school fête
• or even a chance meeting in the supermarket, when a worried Muslim mum stops someone she trusts and “tells all”.

These informal spaces grow when there are barriers – real or perceived – between home and school. They can become spaces of inclusion and trust, or of rumour and confusion. Which one they become depends on the wider climate around particular families.

Din shares striking examples. In one staff training, a teacher seriously asks whether Muslim children are allowed to touch vegetables – almost certainly based on a mistranslated instruction passed on by a child. In another story, a friend is introduced to a class simply as “the Muslim”, and children ask whether Muslims wear shoes, have sofas, eat chips or brush their teeth.

In both cases, the Muslim mum is framed as fundamentally “other” before she has said a word. For Din, this shows how easily a void of unfamiliarity around Islam and Muslim families gets filled with whatever is “in the air”: media stories, political rhetoric, casual comments. Her book tries to reduce that void so that a Muslim mum is no longer a mystery, but a recognisable partner.

Focussing on Muslim mothers

The mothers in Din’s study stand at the crossroads of several inequalities: they are women, they are visibly or invisibly identified as Muslim, many belong to racialised minorities, and a significant number live in socio-economically disadvantaged areas.

At the same time, Muslim children are the largest minority faith presence in schools in England and Wales. Yet the image of the Muslim mum in public debate often appears only in the context of risk – radicalisation, “integration problems”, honour-based violence – not in the context of everyday care and educational support.

Focusing on mothers rather than “parents” in general is also deliberate. Across cultures, it is usually a Muslim mum who:

• does the school run
• deals with homework and forgotten PE kits
• talks to teachers
• responds to behaviour concerns
• and carries the emotional load of school life.

Fathers matter, but if we want to understand how home–school relationships actually work, we need to listen to the people who stand at the classroom door – and, in her particular context, that is overwhelmingly Muslim mums answering the end-of-day questions.

Din also refuses to treat “Muslim mothers” as one type. Her 53 participants differ sharply in education, work experience, migration histories, language and class. Some are highly educated professionals; others have had very little formal schooling. What they share is a concern for schooling and a willingness to talk about it.

An average week

Chapter 7, “Narrative bridges”, opens with a topic that appears again and again in interviews and focus groups: mosque and madrassah education.

When asked about “education” broadly, mothers naturally include:

• after-school Qur’an classes
• weekend madrassahs
• informal lessons at home or in community centres.

For a Muslim mum, these are not peripheral extras. They are central spaces where children learn to read Qur’anic Arabic, memorise passages, absorb basic Islamic knowledge, form friendships and develop a sense of belonging.

The mothers talk about very practical issues:

• How many evenings a week is realistic before exhaustion sets in?
• How do we ensure children can still enjoy school trips that clash with madrassah?
• What happens when a one-off enrichment activity requires flexibility from the mosque timetable?

Din notes that mosque education often has a different pedagogy – more emphasis on memorisation and recitation – and that safeguarding and teacher training vary widely. Yet she also shows a sector in change: more UK-educated teachers, clearer policies, DBS checks, and structured safeguarding in many settings.

Against this complex reality stand stubborn stereotypes. One participant, Parveen, describes colleagues who “hate the fact that kids go off to mosque” and talk as if madrassah time is automatically a barrier to homework or, worse, a risk for radicalisation – often on the basis of a brief “radicalisation” training.

To reframe this, Din uses the language of parental capital. For many families, a Muslim mum sends her children to mosque or madrassah as a way of investing in their spiritual and educational future, just as other parents pay for music lessons or tutoring. It is a form of cultural and social capital, not proof of disinterest in school.

For schools and parent organisations, this suggests a different question: not “How do we stop children going to mosque so they can do homework?”, but “How can we understand, and where possible connect with, the supplementary education that matters to the Muslim mum and her children?”

The parent – teacher partnership

When Din asks what would improve communication, some mothers move straight to behaviour. They are not calling for tougher sanctions, but for earlier, more honest conversations.

In one focus group, mothers with older children talk about sons who ended up “on the streets” or excluded from school. Looking back, they feel there were early signs in primary and lower secondary school that could have led to support – but concerns were only raised at parents’ evening, when it felt “too late”. For each Muslim mum in that group, the pain of hindsight is clear.

Zarah, who has worked in education for over twenty years, shares a different story from her work with newly arrived Somali families. Two boys were repeatedly removed from class as disruptive. After she visited their homes, talked to parents and listened carefully, she found that one child had never experienced formal schooling before and the other had a serious back injury. Once the school understood this and parents received more information about classroom routines, the “disruption” label no longer made sense.

Here, behaviour is not an isolated problem belonging to the child or the teacher. It is a shared concern located in relationships between families, schools and wider conditions such as war, migration, trauma and poverty. Communication that includes the Muslim mum as an expert on her own child, rather than as a problem to be managed, can prevent misunderstandings from hardening into permanent labels.

Community as cultural wealth

Towards the end of Chapter 7, Din connects these stories to the idea of “community cultural wealth”. Instead of asking who “lacks” capital, this approach asks whose knowledge, skills and networks are recognised as valuable.

For many Muslim families, schools fail to see the resources already present:

• multilingual skills
• transnational family networks
• experience of navigating complex systems
• strong faith-based commitments to learning and service.

Some of the schools in Din’s research are already tapping into this. She highlights examples of:

• eco-projects where parents and children work together on gardening or recycling
• arts and crafts activities that draw on traditions from different countries
• celebrations around Eid and other festivals that move beyond “exotic food days” to shared stories, fashion, music and creativity.

These activities are not distractions from academic work. They create low-pressure spaces where a Muslim mum – or any parent who feels intimidated by formal curriculum sessions – can show up, contribute skills and be recognised as a partner.

What this means for schools and parents

So what could schools and individual practitioners learn from what each Muslim mum in this research has to say? Several messages stand out.

First, start with listening. Muslim mothers’ narratives are not sentimental extras; they are a form of evidence. Before we design policies or projects “for” them, we need to hear how school feels from their side of the gate.

Second, differentiate faith and culture. Many mothers insist that some difficulties in families are about poverty, violence or cultural expectations – not Islam as a religion. Staff training should help teachers make those distinctions, not collapse everything into “Muslim beliefs”.

Third, recognise mosque and madrassah as part of the educational ecosystem. A Muslim mum who sends her child to Qur’an class is not necessarily rejecting school; she is often seeking a complementary education. Where local conditions allow, respectful dialogue and practical coordination can turn potential tensions into partnership.

Fourth, value the “grey spaces” of everyday contact. The short chats in corridors, car parks and community rooms often carry the most honest questions and concerns. A teacher who takes five minutes to talk to a Muslim mum at the gate may prevent months of mistrust.

Finally, lighten the burden of “authenticating”. If every Muslim mum has to prove at every step that she is a good parent and a “safe” citizen, engagement will always be fragile. Clear signals – in language, images, policies and everyday behaviour – that Muslim parents are recognised and respected part of the of the school community can make a profound difference.

The last pages of Din’s chapter describe Amaal, a Somali mother whose life has been shaped by war, migration, gender expectations and a powerful commitment to education. She has funded siblings through university across continents while cleaning, caring and raising children in London, and she still dreams of becoming a nurse herself.

Her story is a reminder that behind every label – “Muslim parent”, “refugee family”, “hard-to-reach community” – stands a Muslim mum or dad with a complex history, sacrifices and hopes. If we want more equitable and humane schools, we cannot treat those lives as background noise. They are part of the curriculum of democracy.

Suma Din’s work is an invitation to cross the “narrative bridges” that mothers are already building, to meet each Muslim mum halfway, and to re-imagine parent–school partnerships not as a checklist, but as a shared journey built on stories, respect and trust.

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Tackling Antisemitism in Schools: Training is Key

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Antisemitism in schools and colleges is often described as “the longest hatred” in a new disguise. It has not stayed outside education: it surfaces in jokes and throwaway remarks, in memes shared in class or on WhatsApp, in graffiti, in classroom debates about history or the Middle East, and sometimes even in staffroom conversations. At times it is explicit; more often it is coded in stereotypes, conspiracy theories or casual comments that “everyone” claims not to mean seriously.

If antisemitism in schools is treated only as a disciplinary issue, institutions will always be reacting too late. The UNESCO–OSCE/ODIHR four-volume series Addressing Anti-Semitism in Schools: Training Curricula, developed in 2020, offers a more strategic route: build the capacity of teachers at all levels and of school leaders, and integrate work on antisemitism into the everyday life of schools and vocational colleges.

Addressing Anti-Semitism in Schools Training Curricula – what they are and who they are for

The set Addressing Anti-Semitism in Schools: Training Curricula (UNESCO & OSCE/ODIHR, 2020) is a direct response to the growing visibility of antisemitism in schools and colleges. It consists of four separate but closely aligned volumes: one each for primary school teachers, secondary school teachers, vocational education teachers and school directors. The series sits within the broader “Words into Action” programme on antisemitism through education and builds on earlier policy guidelines aimed at education ministries and systems.

All four volumes adopt the IHRA working definition of antisemitism and propose a practical working description that focuses on antisemitism as a negative perception of Jewish people, leading to biased or hateful actions and the ideologies that sustain them. They argue that antisemitism in schools has specific historical roots and contemporary forms, but must also be understood within a wider human-rights and equality framework that includes other kinds of prejudice.

The primary and secondary school curricula are aimed at those who train classroom teachers and at those who design initial teacher education and in-service professional development. The vocational curriculum is tailored to teachers working with apprentices and students who are preparing for specific occupational fields, from hospitality to health care and public services, where prejudice and inclusion issues appear in real-world interactions. The school directors’ curriculum targets heads and principals and discusses what it means to lead a school or college that takes antisemitism in schools seriously.

These materials are particularly useful as they are both research-informed and deliberately practical. The documents are detailed and yet adaptable: they expect different countries and institutions to have different structures, laws and cultures, and they invite local ownership rather than suggesting a single, rigid programme for tackling antisemitism in schools.

Three domains of teacher learning

The primary, secondary and vocational curricula all start from the same idea: to address antisemitism in schools, teachers need more than a list of facts or a set of ready-made lesson plans. They have to grow in three interlocking domains: self-knowledge, content knowledge and pedagogic knowledge.

Self-knowledge is about who the teacher is as a person and as a professional. The curricula ask teachers to look honestly at their own values, beliefs and emotional responses, and to recognise that everyone has biases and stereotypes, whether he is aware of them or not. This does not mean shaming individuals; it means understanding that cognitive shortcuts and social habits can turn into prejudice if they are never examined. Teachers who are unsettled by antisemitism in schools need space to ask themselves what they stand for and how far their own assumptions might shape their responses to pupils or apprentices.

Content knowledge covers what teachers need to know in order to work credibly on antisemitism in schools. That includes an understanding of how antisemitism has developed over time, the different forms it has taken and the consequences it has had. It also includes knowledge of Judaism and Jewish life today, with an emphasis on diversity rather than a single “Jewish experience”, and an awareness of how Jewish identity, religion and links with Israel are understood in different communities.

The Holocaust is treated as a central, non-negotiable part of this content, but the documents warn explicitly against introducing Judaism only through the Holocaust; instead, they suggest exploring Jewish life and culture first, and then situating the genocide within that longer history. Without secure content knowledge, attempts to address antisemitism in schools risk being shallow or easily derailed.

Pedagogic knowledge is the bridge between conviction and practice. It concerns what teachers actually do: how they plan age-appropriate work on antisemitism and other prejudices, how they respond when a pupil makes a hurtful remark, how they handle a “critical incident” when an antisemitic meme is circulated in class or a controversial political topic is raised, and how they help learners build critical media literacy and resilience to hate speech and conspiracy theories. It also includes knowing when an issue can be handled within a lesson and when it needs to be referred to safeguarding or leadership. This is the level at which antisemitism in schools is either challenged or silently normalised.

Secondary and vocational teachers have an extra dimension to consider: their subject or sector specialism. In secondary schools, history, literature, religious education, languages, ICT and citizenship all approach antisemitism, prejudice and human rights in different ways. In vocational education, teachers work across occupational fields where diversity and discrimination appear in concrete customer interactions, workplace cultures and professional codes. The question here is: what can my subject or sector uniquely contribute to helping learners recognise and challenge antisemitism in schools and other forms of bias?

The curricula structure these three domains into twelve “topic questions” that trainers can turn into modules or CPD strands. Some of these focus on self-awareness and responsibility, others on understanding antisemitism, Jewish life, the Holocaust and prejudice, and others again on curriculum planning, incident response, resilience building and collaboration. Together, they offer a map for engaging with antisemitism in schools in a systematic way rather than as a series of isolated reactions.

School leaders and the leadership domain

For school directors, the architecture is slightly different. The leadership curriculum still insists on self-knowledge and content knowledge: heads and principals need to examine their own assumptions and understand antisemitism and prejudice well enough to make informed decisions. The third domain, however, is not pedagogy, but leadership.

Leadership knowledge is about how to create a whole-school or whole-college ethos in which antisemitism in schools and other forms of hate are clearly rejected, and in which equality and human rights are understood as part of the institution’s core mission. It is about aligning policies, safeguarding practices, crisis-management procedures and communication strategies with that ethos. It also includes knowing how to support staff training and curriculum development, how to handle incidents involving antisemitism or other forms of hate, how to engage parents, employers and community organisations, and how to monitor and evaluate the impact of the school or college’s efforts over time.

In the leadership curriculum, the twelve topic questions therefore turn towards issues such as building a shared vision, designing pre-emptive measures and professional responses to antisemitic trends and incidents, communicating with staff, learners and parents when conflict arises, and auditing and improving the institution’s work in this area. The message is clear: teachers can do a great deal in their classrooms, but their work on antisemitism in schools will be fragile unless leadership creates and protects the conditions in which it can flourish.

How to work with the curricula in practice

The four documents do not simply list content on antisemitism in schools; they also propose a way of organising professional learning. One key recommendation is to start with the self, then move to knowledge, and only then focus on practice. In other words, instead of beginning with lesson ideas or policies, training should open up space for teachers and leaders to reflect on their values, biases and sense of mission. Only afterwards does it make sense to deepen content knowledge and, finally, to turn to pedagogy or leadership.

The curricula describe two coherent routes for sequencing content. A deductive route begins with general concepts such as prejudice, discrimination and intolerance and then examines antisemitism as a specific, particularly dangerous form of those. An inductive route starts from antisemitism itself as a concrete, historically anchored case and then uses it to illuminate wider mechanisms of prejudice and exclusion. Both paths are legitimate; what matters is that the choice is intentional and that learning builds cumulatively instead of jumping randomly between abstract principles and specific examples.

Another central feature is the use of scenarios and critical incidents. Rather than talking about antisemitism in schools in the abstract, the documents encourage trainers to work with short cases taken from real school and college life: a joke in a history lesson, antisemitic graffiti outside a local synagogue, a parent complaining about “too much focus on Jewish history”, a WhatsApp screenshot circulating among apprentices, or a colleague making a comment in the staffroom. Analysing and role-playing responses to such incidents allows participants to integrate self-knowledge, content knowledge and practice. It also helps them think beyond punishment and consider restorative and educational responses, while still recognising when more formal sanctions or reporting are necessary.

The curricula insist that gender and intersectionality should not be an afterthought. Antisemitism in schools interacts with gender, class, ethnicity, religion and other axes of inequality, and the experience of a Jewish girl may differ significantly from that of a Jewish boy, or from that of a non-Jewish pupil targeted for associating with Jewish friends. One simple training technique is to change the gender of key figures in a scenario after an initial discussion and see whether this alters how participants read the situation. This kind of “defamiliarisation” can reveal assumptions that otherwise remain invisible.

Finally, the documents recommend portfolio-based assessment. Instead of evaluating learning through one-off tests, they suggest asking teachers and leaders to gather evidence over time: reflective pieces on bias and professional identity, short assignments on forms of antisemitism and the Holocaust, lesson or unit plans, policy drafts, incident-response plans, and records of actual decisions or classroom interventions. This kind of portfolio not only captures growth across the three domains, it also reinforces the idea that addressing antisemitism in schools is an ongoing professional responsibility rather than a topic for a single inset day.

Concrete action points for schools and colleges

At school or college level, the curricula can be translated into a small number of clear priorities. For leadership teams that want to move beyond statements and take antisemitism in schools seriously in practice, the most critical steps can be framed as a short checklist:

• Make a public, written commitment to tackling antisemitism in schools, explicitly naming it in anti-bullying, safeguarding and equality policies.
• Map where you are now: how Jewish life, the Holocaust and issues of prejudice are currently taught, how incidents are recorded, and how confident staff feel.
• Create a cross-phase team that brings together leadership, safeguarding, curriculum leads, pastoral staff and (in vocational settings) programme heads and employer-liaison staff.
• Build a one- or two-year CPD plan around the twelve topic questions instead of relying on isolated training days.
• Align systems with values: ensure that procedures for recording, responding to and learning from antisemitic incidents are clear, consistent and understood by everyone.

Teacher trainers and CPD leads can use a similar checklist to design their programmes:

• Structure modules explicitly around the three domains of self-knowledge, content knowledge and pedagogy or leadership, always with antisemitism in schools as a through-line.
• Use a blend of inputs, scenario work, discussion, reflective writing and micro-teaching or planning tasks.
• Ask participants to build portfolios that document how their thinking and practice change over time.
• Where possible, bring classroom teachers, vocational instructors and leaders into shared sessions so that incidents are examined from multiple perspectives.

Individual teachers, whether in primary, secondary or vocational settings, can take first steps even before a full programme is in place. They can begin to normalise Jewish presence and life in the curriculum by including contemporary Jewish voices, stories and examples rather than mentioning Jews only in connection with the Holocaust. They can pay closer attention to their own language and assumptions and notice when jokes or expressions rely on stereotypes. They can practise challenging generalisations in calm, non-humiliating ways, by asking pupils or apprentices to clarify whom they are talking about and how they know what they claim to know.

They can set aside time to examine memes, videos or posts that recycle classic antisemitic tropes and to discuss why such content spreads and what functions conspiracy theories serve. And they can make a habit of logging incidents of antisemitism in schools and sharing them with colleagues and leadership instead of carrying those situations alone.

Q&A: common concerns about antisemitism in schools

“Aren’t primary pupils too young for this?”
The primary curriculum takes the view that children are already exposed to references to the Holocaust and to antisemitic stereotypes, whether through family conversations, media or online content. The question for schools is therefore not whether these topics appear, but whether adults help pupils to process them safely and thoughtfully. The materials propose age-appropriate approaches that focus on fairness, name-calling, exclusion and simple historical narratives, without graphic detail or sensationalism, and in this way they help schools begin addressing antisemitism in schools from an early age.

“We do not have any Jewish pupils. Is antisemitism really our issue?”
All four curricula treat antisemitism in schools as a global human-rights problem that can exist even where Jewish communities are small or not publicly visible. Antisemitic ideas often play wider social and political roles; they can shape how learners think about power, conspiracy, difference and belonging even when no Jew is physically present. Challenging those ideas strengthens democratic culture and critical thinking for everyone in the institution.

“Is this not just another name for general anti-bullying work?”
Work on antisemitism in schools should be integrated into broader strategies on bullying, racism and discrimination, but it cannot be reduced to them. Antisemitism has specific histories, myths and modern forms, including Holocaust denial and conspiracy theories that cast Jews as an all-powerful hidden force. The curricula therefore devote dedicated space to antisemitism alongside more general work on prejudice and intolerance, and they argue that taking its specific features seriously actually improves, rather than fragments, whole-school equality work.

“Our teachers feel unsure about Judaism, Israel or the Holocaust. Can they cope with this?”
The materials are written for exactly this situation. They provide structured content, clear definitions, suggested sources and practical guidance. Teachers are not expected to become historians or theologians; they are expected to work with research-informed resources, to be honest about what they do not yet know, and to model learning in front of their pupils. The same applies to leaders: the point is not perfection, but a serious, sustained commitment to improving how the institution deals with antisemitism in schools.

“Is this really relevant in vocational education?”
The vocational curriculum answers this question directly. Future mechanics, nurses, police officers, hospitality workers, receptionists, business managers and technicians all work in environments where diversity, discrimination and equality play out in everyday interactions. Antisemitism and other prejudices influence who is hired or promoted, how customers and colleagues are treated, and how institutions understand their legal and ethical duties. Preparing apprentices to recognise and challenge antisemitism in schools and colleges is therefore part of preparing them to be competent, responsible professionals.

“How do we stop the Holocaust becoming the only thing learners associate with Jews?”
All four volumes warn against defining Jewish identity through the Holocaust alone. They suggest that learners should first encounter Jewish life, diversity and belief as they exist across time and place, and only then study the Holocaust as a catastrophic event within a much longer and still continuing history. When teaching about the genocide, professional educators are encouraged to keep the focus on real individuals and communities and to connect this history to wider questions about human rights and democratic responsibility.

“How will we know whether our work is making a difference?”
There is no single metric, but several indicators can be tracked over time: staff and leader self-assessments of confidence and knowledge; evidence of curriculum change in schemes of work, lesson plans or vocational modules; the quality and consistency of incident recording and follow-up; the portfolios emerging from teacher and leadership training; and feedback from pupils, apprentices, parents, employers and community partners. Over time, institutions should expect not only fewer unchallenged stereotypes, but also richer, more thoughtful classroom and workshop discussions and a clearer shared understanding of what antisemitism in schools looks like and why it matters.

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The VII Global StopCyberbullying Telesummit

In October 2025, the VII Global StopCyberbullying Telesummit hosted two special sessions led by Parents International experts who are currently working on the DRONE, PARTICIPATE, and EFFEct projects. On 7 October, Luca Janka Laszlo presented new research on “Bullying by Teachers”. One week later, on 14 October, Eszter Salamon spoke about “Perpetrator and Protector Roles of Parents and Teachers”. These sessions highlighted a reality that is too often ignored: adults aren’t only one of the first line of protection against bullying: in some cases, they are perpetrators themselves, and their example has a direct correlation to the adoption of bullying behaviour in children.

This is a crucial distinction for DRONE, an Erasmus+ project that trains teachers and school leaders to promote digital literacy and combat disinformation among vulnerable adolescents. Cyberbullying, hate and harassment do not exist in a vacuum; they are shaped by school culture, parenting practices and wider social norms. The telesummit discussions showed how research from PARTICIPATE, DRONE and EFFEct can be used to change those norms in practice.

What bullying by teachers looks like – and why it matters

Luca’s presentation started from a simple but uncomfortable observation: most anti-bullying programmes treat adults only as “protective factors”. They focus on peer-to-peer bullying and may refer to abuse at home, but rarely ask whether teachers or parents themselves bully children.

To address this gap, Luca adopted a broader definition of bullying as a damaging social process driven by power imbalances and social or institutional norms. Bullying involves unwanted behaviour that causes physical, social or emotional harm. It is often repeated over time, but this repetition – and the idea of clear, conscious intent – is not always straightforward in the case of cyberbullying or adult behaviour.

Within this framework, teacher bullying includes emotional violence, humiliation, deliberate ignoring of a child, verbal aggression, unfair treatment of property, physical aggression and, increasingly, online attacks. International research shows that this is a scattered but growing field: studies use very different concepts and measures, rely heavily on cross-sectional surveys and convenience samples, and report prevalence rates that range from below 1 per cent to almost 90 per cent depending on how questions are asked. This does not mean that teacher bullying is “everywhere”, but it does confirm that it is real, harmful and still poorly understood.

Luca presented data from surveys with almost 800 students in 25 schools across the Netherlands and Hungary. Children were asked about five domains:

• victimisation by peers
• victimisation by teachers
• victimisation by parents
• students’ own bullying of peers
• help-seeking

Across both countries, a substantial share of students reported at least occasional experiences of teacher behaviours such as misnaming, verbal aggression, ignoring a pupil who needed help, or other actions that felt humiliating or unfair. Some also reported physical aggression and teacher cyberbullying.

A scoping review of the literature suggests a worrying pattern: where teacher or other adult bullying is present, children are more likely to become (cyber)bullies themselves. Bandura’s social cognitive theory reminds us why this might happen. Children learn by observing adults; if adults use power to humiliate or intimidate, that behaviour can be normalised and repeated in peer relationships.

Parents and teachers: protectors, perpetrators, guides

Eszter Salamon’s session looked at parents and teachers from both angles: as potential perpetrators and as the most important protectors. Using recent PARTICIPATE data from Hungary and the Netherlands, she showed that cyberbullying is still mainly carried out by peers, but that a minority of students also report experiences of online bullying by parents or teachers.

Survey data from Hungary and the Netherlands show that bullying by adults is far from rare. Family bullying is reported as much more common in the Netherlands than in Hungary: 67.1 per cent of Dutch students, compared with 14.1 per cent of Hungarian students, say they have experienced it more than once or twice. Teacher bullying is widespread in both countries and reported as more prevalent in the Netherlands, with 70.1 per cent of students, compared with 54.2 per cent in Hungary, saying they have been bullied by a teacher more than once or twice.

When something goes wrong, whom do children trust? Here the findings are very clear. In the interviews, all participants said they would seek help from parents; some in Hungary expected their parents to involve teachers, but none placed primary trust in teachers. In an emergency, trust in parents was 100 per cent, in friends about 70 per cent, and in teachers effectively zero.

Additional data from the LIVITY Future Report, presented in the session, confirm the central role of parents. Around 63 per cent of young people who seek help about bullying turn to their parents, with even higher rates among 13–15-year-olds. Older teenagers are less likely to ask for parental help but still do so more than they turn to any school-based adult.

This pattern is repeated in the area of digital education. Many participants feel confident about using digital tools and checking information, and say they are supported by their parents but are doubtful about their teachers’ competence. When asked where they learn about healthy online habits, young people most often name parents (about one third), followed by friends. Only a small minority mention teachers as the main source of guidance on changing passwords, logging out of shared devices, sharing information responsibly or assessing the trustworthiness of online content.

For DRONE, PARTICIPATE and EFFEct, this has two important implications. First, parents must be recognised as key actors in cyberbullying prevention and digital literacy. Second, teachers and school leaders need support, both to avoid harmful practices and to become trusted adults in the digital lives of children.

From research to tools: what schools and families can use now

Both telesummit sessions also showcased very practical tools that already exist. Parents International has developed a suite of resources on bullying and cyberbullying prevention, many of them building on work from the SAILS project and now connected to DRONE and PARTICIPATE.

For parents, these include:

• clear explanations of bullying and cyberbullying, including warning signs
• guidance on helpful reactions – listening without judgement, validating the child’s experience, reinforcing the message “you are not to blame”
• step-by-step advice on documenting incidents, reporting to school and supporting emotional recovery, whether the child is a victim or a perpetrator
• practical tools such as checklists, action plans, family conversation starters and resilience roadmaps.

Resilience-building tools help families recognise digital stress, model healthy coping strategies and create habits that support balance. The underlying message is simple: prevention is not only about controlling devices, but about building trust, emotional awareness and supportive networks around the child.

For schools, training offers are emerging that address teacher bullying directly and link it to broader questions of school culture, leadership and data use – areas where EFFEct’s work on evidence-based education policy and DRONE’s focus on digital resilience provide a strong foundation.

How DRONE, PARTICIPATE and EFFEct move forward together

DRONE places these insights within a wider agenda: equipping teachers, school leaders, parents and students to recognise disinformation, understand artificial intelligence and navigate the online world critically, especially in vulnerable groups of adolescents. PARTICIPATE contributes cutting-edge research on the role of parents and other adults in cyberbullying, ensuring that interventions do not overlook those who hold the most power in children’s lives. EFFEct, finally, helps translate these findings into sound educational policy and practice by promoting rigorous, impact-driven research on what actually works in classrooms and schools.

The telesummit sessions made one conclusion unavoidable: children watch closely how adults use power, online and offline. When adults model respect, fairness and critical thinking, bullying and disinformation lose much of their force. When adults misuse power, even occasionally, the damage can last for years.

Through DRONE, PARTICIPATE, EFFEct and related initiatives, our goal is to ensure that parents, teachers and school leaders are equipped not only to prevent bullying and cyberbullying, but also to become the trusted guides that young people so clearly need in the digital age.

TOOLS TO SUPPORT FAMILIES AND SCHOOLS

Parent Action Plan

Conversation Starter Tools

Captain’s Handbook – SAILS resource for school leaders

SAILING MASTERS’ GUIDE TO NAVIGATING THE DIGITAL WORLD WITH YOUR CHILD – the SAILS Parent Resource

SAILS Inspiring Practice Analysis on Risk Mitigation in Digital Childhood

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The Autumn Session of the Conference of International Non-Governmental Organisations (INGO Conference) of the Council of Europe brought together civil society organisations from across the continent to review ongoing work and plan new initiatives.

What is the INGO Conference?

The INGO Conference is the body that represents organised civil society within the Council of Europe. Through its committees and working structures, it enables NGOs to contribute to standard setting, monitoring and policy development in core areas such as human rights, democracy and the rule of law. CINGO, the Liaison Committee of the INGO Conference, coordinates this work by supporting the thematic committees, facilitating dialogue with the Council of Europe and the member states, and ensuring that the voice of civil society is heard at every stage of the decision-making process.

Over three days in Strasbourg—and an additional online session—Parents International took part in a rich programme of committee meetings, thematic debates and strategic exchanges with institutional partners and youth representatives.

The Three Days of the INGO Conference

On the first day, the committees met to review the progress of their ongoing work. We attended the meetings of the Committee for the European Social Charter and its monitoring mechanism; the committee on NGOs as advocates for gender equality and women’s rights—where we gave a presentation entitled “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?”—and the Civil Society Committee on the Rights of the Child in Europe, which we chair.

At the end of the day, all committees met jointly with the President and the Standing Committee to review their activities and to coordinate planned interventions for the General Assembly. This joint session offered an important opportunity to align priorities, identify synergies between different thematic areas and ensure that the concerns of civil society would be clearly reflected in the work of the Council of Europe.

On the second day, we welcomed two ambassadors—Caitriona Doyle of Ireland and Vebjorn Heines of Norway—representing the recently formed group Friends of Civil Society. They provided an update on their work, with particular focus on the New Pact for Democracy and its implications for civil society participation within the Council of Europe framework.

Following this, we received Ambassador Daniela Cujbă of Moldova, who will soon assume the Presidency of the Committee of Ministers, and who presented the key priorities of her upcoming mandate, including the defence of democratic standards, protection of human rights and support for an enabling environment for NGOs.

In the session dedicated specifically to civil society, Jeremy McBride, President of the Expert Council on NGO Law, presented an update on the Council’s recent work. The President of CINGO then reported on the increasingly difficult situation faced by civil society in several countries, including Georgia, Greece, Hungary, Slovakia and Turkey, sharing testimonies received from local organisations. He also provided a brief account of the recent CINGO mission to Serbia to assess the challenges facing civil society organisations there in their relationship with the government, and the risks these trends pose for democracy and the rule of law.

The Civil Society Committee on the Rights of the Child in Europe welcomed a delegation from the European Committee for Home-Based Priority Action for the Child and the Family (EUROCEF), composed of university students, professionals and teachers who came to learn about our work on children’s rights. Despite the limited time, the meeting was both stimulating and productive, paving the way for future collaboration on issues such as inclusive education, family support and child participation in decision-making.

In the afternoon, the President’s report was presented in plenary, followed by the introduction and discussion of four draft recommendations to be voted on the following day:
• State Accountability in the Provision of Housing for People on the Move, Refugees and Asylum Seekers – A Fundamental Matter of Respect for Human Rights
• For a Permanent Platform for Ongoing Interreligious and Interconvictional Dialogue within the Council of Europe
• Access to Sport for All as a Recognised Fundamental Right
• The Human Cost of War: A Call for Peace and Protection in Gaza

On the third day, the session began with a briefing from the Secretariat on the implementation of the Council of Europe Roadmap, followed by the presentation of the OING Service President’s Harry Rogge biannual report, highlighting recent achievements and ongoing challenges for the INGO Conference.

As the Civil Society Committee on the Rights of the Child in Europe, together with the Youth Sector of CINGO and the Pompidou Group, had organised a side event entitled “Healthier Youth – Addressing the Risks of Online Gambling and Video Gaming”, we left the plenary to co-chair the session with Jeanne Saliou from the Pompidou Group.

Ten young participants from various countries—including the United Kingdom, Poland, Greece, Kurdistan, Spain (2), Turkey, Slovakia and Italy (2)—took part. Listening to their voices is not only important; it is essential. They brought fresh perspectives, courage and honesty, helping us to imagine a fairer and more compassionate society for all. It was an inspiring exchange of ideas, rich in diverse viewpoints, and an invaluable learning experience for everyone involved. The only regret was that the time was too short, as much more remained to be discussed.

In the afternoon, we were only able to attend the beginning of the presentation on the CINGO Communication Charter before having to leave for Lisbon.

One Step Further: the BRIDGE Project

On the fourth day, online, we attended the presentation of the BRIDGE Project — Building Resilience and Independence for Democratic Governance and Engagement with the Council of Europe, a European initiative led by ALDA aimed at countering democratic backsliding by strengthening civil society participation. We also received important updates on the ongoing Reykjavik Process and its potential to reinforce the role of civil society and INGOs in the broader Council of Europe architecture.

Next year we will celebrate the 50th anniversary of the INGO Conference. Several activities will be held throughout the year, culminating in a grand celebration at the Autumn meeting on the 26th. This anniversary will offer a key opportunity to highlight the indispensable contribution of civil society organisations to human rights, democracy and the rule of law in Europe—and to reaffirm our shared commitment to these values.

Herminio Corrêa

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