The Problem with Zero Tolerance

Let me start by saying that if someone killed someone I loved, I’d probably want that person to fry. Likewise, if a kid threatened or harmed my child, I’d be first in line to take the little monster down. And so I begin my musings about the similarities between capital punishment and a zero tolerance policy on bullying.

In theory, I’m against both. Frankly, killing a person seems to be a pretty dumb way to teach people not to kill. Likewise, it doesn’t seem productive to remove a difficult child from their social situation if, ultimately, you want them to develop into a decent (social) human being. Life in prison is an alternative to the death penalty. What, if anything, is the alternative to a zero tolerance policy for bullying?

Of course, I’m not talking about the run-of-the-mill nastiness that goes on between kids. Hopefully, teachers and parents have the ability (and the will) to get proactive about that kind of bullying. Those are the incidences where you pull someone aside and talk about unacceptable behavior and consequences. If you add real programs to teach kindness, the little injustices can probably be reduced. But what about the big things—guns in school, beatings, cyber or other attacks that do real damage? Suspension has been the zero tolerance option. Should that be permanent suspension? Does that achieve anything? I suppose suspension removes the offender from the immediate situation (and consequently provides relief for the victim). But I suspect that ultimately the abuser gets shipped off to another school or else sits around watching TV until he or she is old enough to go out and do some real damage.

When the discussion turns to prisoners, the debate often boils down to rehabilitation vs. warehousing vs. killing. If I apply those alternatives to bullying (with “killing” being zero tolerance) I definitely vote for rehabilitation. Schools need programs that that go beyond having a school psychiatrist meet with the student and parents. Perhaps these could be district-wide, citywide, or even statewide programs. I envision the kind of “camp” that is usually only available to rich parents with severely troubled children. The programs need to embrace, not isolate the children. Very big problems require very big solutions.

In the meantime, we deal with the minor offenders who will never been truly menacing but may, very likely, grow up to be the kind of people you don’t want to have over for dinner. I’d like to see a program that would address bullying (or kindness) nationally. Many years ago, some Bostonians were sporting a bumper sticker that read, “A little kindness won’t kill you.” Not a bad slogan to resurrect.

Where to Start?

So how does one teach kindness?

From my not-yet-a-teacher vantage point, it’s easy to pontificate about reaching children with a message of kindness. But while I can address the topic with optimism, I can’t really talk about it with authority. I know that teachers face unimaginable challenges. Some students are reachable—they don’t want to be bullied and they aren’t inclined to bully. But what about those seemingly unreachable students? There are always going to be those kids who—by nature or nurture—are going to enter kindergarten with a chip on their shoulder that grows as they proceed through elementary, junior high and high school. In my limited classroom experience, I’ve met them. I can remember the sweet-looking little blonde boy who, in my presence sneered at my daughter that he was going to get a gun and shoot her. I also remember the menacing boy in my class last year (I was a teacher’s aide) who initially terrified me. He had been expelled from numerous schools and arrived at ours with a rap sheet detailing his various on-campus offenses. I saw how quickly he could charm other kids into his influence, and how those kids then became belligerent and insolent. Bullies are never short on cohorts.

So what’s a teacher to do? I think you start by acting kind. As an aide, I worked under a tyrant who obviously needed a break. She screamed at everyone and ruled the kids with an iron fist. Initially, I had a great rapport with the kids. I made a point to get to know them by asking about their families, their interests and their activities. I was exceedingly nice to them and they, in turn, were cooperative. But as the semester went on, I found myself starting to emulate the tyrant. Like her, I started sending misbehaving kids outside to stand alone. Isolation—now there’s a way to socialize students! In retrospect, I feel bad about the way I handled a couple of situations. I was glad when the year was over so I could regroup and regain my kinder instincts.

But back to that “bad boy” I described above—the one with a school rap sheet. One day I was alone with him to administer a reading test. (This was a special ed class). To my complete astonishment, he was an excellent reader and his comprehension was perfect. He was, in fact, the best reader in the class and could read well above his grade level. I started a conversation with him about his skills—where did he learn to read? Who taught him? He asked if he had done well and I told him that he was incredible. I went on to tell him that I knew he’d had some tough experiences in previous schools but that he was now in a new situation where he could start fresh. I also told him that I thought he was fully capable of great things—and I meant that. Suffice to say, my relationship with that student was wonderful for the rest of the year. Could I now reach him with other messages about things like bullying? Absolutely.

To teach kindness, surely one needs to model it. The best teachers seem to recognize that every child walks into a classroom with all sorts of baggage—some of it positive and some of it horrendous. Taking a genuine interest in who those students are, and what they most need, creates an environment for delivering messages that are likely to be heard. Students view teachers as figures of authority. If “authority” means something positive, there will be endless opportunities to convey good things.

It’s not everything, but it’s a start.

Is It Possible?

Here it is: I think it’s possible to teach kindness. Yes, there may be children that can’t be reached—little psychopaths that kill goldfish and kittens and eventually other people. But I’m talking about the majority of children.
I think it’s possible to reach them. And if I could accomplish just one thing, in my future teaching career, it would be to find a way of reaching a large group of children and stopping them from becoming bullies.

Bullying isn’t something that happens occasionally. It happens every day in every school throughout the country. These days, people pay more attention to bullying. After all, it’s hard to ignore the suicides and the Columbines and the carnage being reported in one school after another.

I remember a few incidences from my youth—things that happened to me and things that happened to others. All in all, I wasn’t made to suffer much or often. But I think it’s safe to say that I remember every single time someone was mean to me. And what I remember most about those experiences was how they shook my sense of self and how they made me feel stupid and ugly.

Here’s another memory: I’m a senior in the high school cafeteria and a couple of severely disabled girls walk by a group of popular boys. The boys laugh at the girls and call them “retards.” I tell the guys they’re a bunch of jerks and I silently wish I could just SMASH them. It stops them until the next time and there’s always a next time. I wonder if the girls understand? I hope their brains are so damaged that they’ll never know about or cry over this tremendous injustice and indignity.

Fast forward and I’m an adult on a field trip with a bunch of kids and parents. During a meal I sit with two other moms who are obviously distressed and talking in low tones. Both of them have boys who are the victims of merciless teasing and bullying. One boy is smart, overweight and a little awkward. The other two boys—twins, are extremely intelligent but socially inept. The mothers don’t know what to do. Though the boys try to ignore the attacks, their mothers know how much they suffer. The moms have talked to the teachers, the principal and anyone else who will listen. But no one helps and nothing changes. And here is the amazing thing: This is a school that requires parent participation—two hours a week, every week, in the classroom. So the mothers of the bullies know what is going on. But I’ve never once heard one censure their nasty, obnoxious vicious little boys.

When my daughter first went to preschool, I made two demands: 1) No matter what, don’t lie to me. In order to defend you, I must know the truth. 2) Don’t ever let me hear that you were unkind or mean to someone. She was so little, that I wondered if she understood. I never repeated these demands but all through school the same pattern was repeated: She befriended the underdog—the fat kid, the strange one, the one who talked funny, the one that everyone else rejected. And over and over again, the mothers of these kids told me how much that meant to them. “She’s the only thing that kept my daughter from being totally miserable this year,” or “I can’t even begin to tell you what her friendship meant to my son.” Even now I wonder: Was she simply born with a (wonderful) bleeding heart? Or did we teach her this, and if so, how? Was it my demand to be kind?

I think about the way the employees at Home Depot were taught to be nice and to act like they want to help you. Maybe they do and maybe they don’t. But regardless, they ACT nice and they DO help you. What did it take? One 4-hour class on being nice? What would happen if, as teachers, we spent one hour a week talking about being a decent human being?

I think it’s possible to teach kindness.

Introduction for Tech Class

The first time I used a computer was in the early 1970’s. I worked for a trucking company that maintained a terminal-to-terminal system to track freight. (Not exactly like the current-day PCs!) In the mid-80’s, I bought an Apple and a cartoon illustrated book about using computers. I had a couple of guy-friends talk me through the rough spots and I was off and running. Over the years, I taught myself as much as I could about using and maintaining a computer for word processing, database maintenance, Multiple Listing Service (MLS) access and marketing materials. At one point, I worked for a title company and taught agents about the Internet and using the MLS database. I was once asked how I knew so much about computers. My answer was, “My husband cooks!” In other words, I had the time to fool around with them. I currently own and operate a web-based real estate service serving the “For Sale By Owner” market. I spend most days behind a screen.

I graduated with an English degree from Berkeley (a long time ago). I’ll be entering the Single Subject, English program at CSUSM this fall, but ultimately want to continue to get a special ed credential. My interest is in working with older kids/adults with severe disabilities. Other than teaching real estate agents how to use a computer (challenging!), I was a teaching assistant last year at Woodland Park Middle School. I worked with 6-8th graders with mild to moderate learning disabilities. Our classroom had about 9 computers and I enjoyed working with the kids on their computer skills. I was amazed that they were not particularly tech-savy, though they really enjoyed any activities that allowed them to have computer-time.

Since I love technology, I look forward to this class. Most of my computer experience has been in the business world, so it’s fun to see what’s available for the classroom. Technological innovation can be overwhelming; it’s easy to just say, “I know enough.” But I know there’s no such thing as “enough.” This is a great opportunity to set aside time each week to devote to learning more.