Let's not fool ourselves. If we haven't yet heard accusations in the media against those who promote animal welfare in schools—accusations of being "teachers paid with public funds who impose their radical ideology on students"—it's simply because we are very isolated cases. And because, I imagine, those who hear about "education in respect for animals" tend to assume we're only referring to dogs and cats. A purely emotional and charitable message toward these animals seems to be seen as positive, and "I'm also against animal abuse." When there are more of us and people realize this isn't just about dogs and cats, the criticism will begin, just as it's questioned when we advocate for public funds to be allocated to public schools and not to private, subsidized schools.
We'll hear the phrase "extremes are always bad," and we'll have to ask ourselves questions and analyze that statement. Are extremes always bad? Let's draw a parallel that doesn't usually sit well with those who are speciesist but not racist. First, we can imagine an extremely racist society, where race-based slavery is completely normalized, and Black people continue to be considered mere resources. Now imagine I have 36 students in the classroom but only 35 photocopies to distribute, and I decide that the Chinese student—because she's Asian—should be left without the materials; in this case, we'd be facing a "moderately racist" situation. Third, let's imagine a society where not even the slightest expression of racism is tolerated, where race has no relevance in social relations. Which of the three options do you think a teacher should defend in the classroom? If you chose the third, at least in this subject, you don't seem like a moderate person, but rather an extremist.
Now imagine what an extremely speciesist society would be like. Some animals would be mistreated to death for public entertainment. Others would be bred to be fattened and, once they had reached a certain market price, would be sent to the slaughterhouse. We would wear their skins and use their bodies as mere decorations. And for some, the lifeless body of a wild animal would be considered a trophy. From a young age, we would be taught that animals are there to serve us; we would be fed their bodies, clothed in their skins, and taken to the circus and the zoo. This is the extremist society in which we live and are raised.
No one accuses those who transmit and reinforce these values in the classroom of being extremists. Those who defend the opposite position—the position that other animals deserve the same respect we would show them if they belonged to our species—are accused of extremism. The media, often funded by large corporations, has succeeded in associating the term "extremism" with the idea of violence. That is why it is particularly striking that those who defend a life free from violence toward animals are the ones who risk being considered extremists.
From a pedagogical standpoint, it's irrelevant whether a position is extremist or not. What's interesting is the debate about whether a position is correct or not. And that's precisely what we avoid discussing if we simply label opposing ideas as "extremist." That amounts to belittling ideas without offering any arguments to refute them.
Even if the anti-speciesist stance is wrong, what's wrong with discussing it in the classroom? Throughout our education, we're going to hear comments and witness discriminatory attitudes toward other animals. Why be afraid that our sons or daughters might, at some point in their schooling, encounter a teacher who argues that animals aren't meant for our benefit?