School Rules
Creating the problems they are supposed to solve
It was only the first day of school. Yet, not only did my son come home with a discipline note — this is my son who has treated me to maybe three problem prompted comments from teachers in eight years of schooling — but also the administrative wheels started turning hours before I knew of any problem.
He made the self-offending comment in the morning of the first day of school. The teacher had just met him. She did not get much opportunity to learn about him as the day wore on either, as he spent much of the day with the principal or counselor. No one thought to call me, to notify me or to ask for any details. I found out, from him, when he got off the bus. I called the teacher as she was calling me.
If they had called, I could have told them that there were no other indicators of depression. His sleeping and eating were normal. His interaction with friends and sisters was fine and steady. He hadn’t had any mood swings inconsistent with his age. And maybe, just maybe, when the teacher announces a homework assignment on the morning of the first day of school, the 9 year old boy who mutters “Oh, great. Let me go hang myself,” might just be a smart aleck. (A smart aleck who had just seen an episode of Warehouse 13 in which there was a history lesson about the Jim Crow South’s most notorious hanging judge, Issac Parker. That is, I could have even pinpointed the actual inspiration for the smart aleckery…if they had asked.)
I would have been fine with the teacher following up on his remark, calling me to inform me and ask about any other behaviors consistent with a risk of self-harm. In fact, I would’ve welcomed that check.
I would have been fine with her chewing him out for an obnoxious comment. I did.
I was not fine with him coming home and informing me he was instantly reported to the school counselor and had to sign a no self-harm contract as well as make lists about things worth living for and ways to express frustration that don’t involve self-harm. That’s how he spent the first day of school and much of the two days following.
He went through all the counseling in stride. But about three days later, after all the ink had dried and my son had time to reflect, he wondered. He had done something wrong enough to upset the school that much, but he hadn’t recognized it. Downcast and despairing, he asked his father and me if there really was something wrong with him.
My husband and I got him through that bout of actual depression, but schools need to know: those standardized procedures designed to address the generic problem often create that which they are designed to prevent. What used to be handled with a teacher’s comment shutting down a wise-cracking kid had become days of counseling and a depressive spiral.
For nothing.
A few weeks into school, after the teacher, who was just following procedures that first day, got to know our son she told us that yes, anyone who knew him would not have panicked about his remark. They ended up becoming close, one of those student and teacher inspirational relationships you hope for your children. But then she left the next year, in part I suspect, because the administration became more strident in enforcing their one size fits all rules.
Children don’t have much experience. They cue off of the adults around them. What do we want? What do we expect? Jumping to worst case scenario conclusions about everything they do distorts the message they receive. If we expect the worst case scenario, then they just might oblige us.
And for the record, as a mom with one son and three daughters, I can attest that these worst case scenario expectations are most common for boys. For the girls, the rules expect the best case scenairos — and if the girls do not deliver then, sometimes, we pretend they did. That expectation does a different kind of damage.
This is week three of a 52 week writing challenge for The Writing Cooperative. The previous two installments are here:
