I'd taken a post in a large unified school district north of Phoenix, Arizona, in a primarily middle class K-8 elementary school. As the newly minted Assistant Principal, I'd established my career understanding how to mitigate and manage behavioral crisis in classrooms - this particular campus housed a self-contained program for Emotionally Disabled students - and they hoped to lean on my so called expertise.
Mid-way through the year, and in context of dealing with most of the code of conduct issues across campus, I got to know a group of students for whom navigating school structure was complicated. One student in particular was often in my office for increasingly physically violent actions - hitting a female student in the side of the head with a basketball - and I was working closely with his family and teachers to support rapid changes. It heightened my anxiety around school safety, and stressed my awareness.
Cafeteria duty was part of my routine, not my favorite, but a chance to mingle with all of the students and share some laughter. On this day, I distinctly remember the sting in my leg that followed a loud pop behind me. Glancing down, I noticed a substantial tear in my pants, and a trickle of blood making its way down my shin.
Looking over my shoulder, I noticed a well-crafted projectile embedded in the pads underneath the basketball hoop. Immediately, I glanced up, hoping to make eye contact with a student, and making some identification around the source of the damage.
I called for silence in the room, and in my best Assistant Principal voice I demanded to know who launched the dart. Continued silence.
In my frustration, I threatened everyone in the room with a loss of recess unless I found out who was responsible. Continued silence. I had to follow through, so there they all sat.
Roughly 110 students were now being punished for the acts of one.
All of those children, and only one responsible, held accountable for something that I still didn't fully understand.
Mistakes I made;
- I took it personal.
- I punished the whole group.
- I lost respect.
Instead, I could have;
- Released all the students, inviting them to anonymously explain what they saw.
- I could have assumed that it was an accident.
- I could have preserved the integrity of all of those students by taking the time to investigate what happened, collecting information, and applying the appropriate consequences where applicable.
The principal, teachers, and cafeteria manager scolded me for mishandling the incident. I stalled delivery of lunch to several other student groups. Deserving students lost recess. Teachers had to deal with the fallout of anxious students.
I punished the group. The responsible individual became a pariah. I saw myself fulfilling Paul Gleason's role in Breakfast Club - something I'd never wanted to become.
So, should we be punishing the groups to which we assume responsible individuals belong?
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