Lessons should be learned from great tragedies...have school shootings, incidents like Columbine, taught us nothing?

The working title for this essay began as “Pre-Columbine 2004,” a title I reluctantly discarded as possibly hurtful, probably exploitative. The exploitative would work, for the purposes of what has to be said, but there is more than enough pain for each victim of violence in our public schools already, and I have no desire to increase anyone’s hurt. Yet the truth is that other Columbines will occur—sadly, in many cases, because of the politics and cowardice of school districts in standing down aggressors. Privacy rules—and the need to keep my job as a teacher—will force me to shield the identities of some true idiots in this pseudo expose. (An unfortunate fact of public education is that the fear factor keeps many financially strapped educators from standing up to administrations, parents, injustice—you name it.) Events, however, will be reported as honestly as possible, because I believe the public education system suffers many episodes such as this, even after Columbine. While I do not excuse any of the perpetrators of school violence, the attention focused on frequent bullying of students by other students calls out as one underlying factor in many of the incidents. Added to the possibility of students attacking other students is the very common problem these days of students attacking faculty—and the relative inability of faculty to defend themselves, even in districts with “0” tolerance for such action by students. Come, then, to a district called…let’s call it the YeahSure Independent School District, or YSISD. Travel back six yearsto a first grade room with 27 students, one severely handicapped, and the opportune arrival of a young boy named Danny. Danny, of the red-dyed hair, snub nose—a cute kid, like the other 27. He made the 28th, in a class limited by law to only 22 students. The class included a child who needed constant help to move about, and no full time paraprofessional--a tough class at best.   Danny was a problem in the making, though at the time, no one knew. It was the sister Caroline—a year older, maybe two, in second grade for the second time—who first defined what “problem” really meant. On the second day of school, Caroline’s mother appeared at school—and threatened to sue the second grade teacher for not being willing enough to help Caroline. The second day of school. While Danny was no problem, Caroline did no homework, came late, refused to do class work—and every single day, the mother threatened, cursed, went to the main office, and generally turned the two weeks into a nightmare for school staff, other students, and anyone anywhere around. This woman beat her husband up on school grounds, refused to leave the campus during instructional time—and no one did anything. Why? Well, the woman “knew her rights,” and the district wanted no part of a lawsuit. Additionally, the woman worked in a local nursing home, and delivered huge blocks of votes to local candidates. She regularly boasted of knowing this judge or that, went to the school board with complaints almost daily behaved in a totally unbalanced manner—and no one ever said “boo” to the woman. Now, because Danny came in last, and the first grade was already over its legal limit, Danny was transferred after about two weeks to another school, and Caroline went with him. Not surprisingly, the entire staff breathed a huge sigh of relief. Fast forward past the ghastly rash of school shootings, the warnings against permitting bullying, the defiant demands of teachers to be secure in their own classrooms, and come to the fourth grade at the same elementary school that hosted Danny and Caroline for two weeks all those years ago. Unwanted—and, according to the mother, abused—by practically every other elementary school in the district, Danny and Caroline—now in the same grade—come back. Fourth grade demands that students in Texas pass the state-mandated test, and teachers at this school are departmentalized, each teaching a specific subject area. Along with Danny, there are a number of bright children who have never had problems, including two teachers’ sons. Many of the fourth graders have been at the school, recognized numerous times as an exemplary school, since Kinder. Others have come to take advantage of the school’s reputation. And new to the school is a principal with well-established credentials, experience as a counselor, and the inability to let children suffer at the hands of other children. Caroline and Danny still refuse to do class work or homework, of course, in spite of the testing demands; they come late and are often absent. Worse—Danny, once quiet and cute, has become a brutal bully. He kicks and punches students at will, pulls chairs out from under them, trips them, curses teachers and pretends to shoot them, throws fits when he is not allowed to bring electronic games to class—his behavior in unacceptable. He also has a particular delight in beating up one of the teacher’s sons—a boy whose mother happens to be a fourth grade teacher. The threats and accusations begin quickly. The first time Danny is disciplined, a complaint is filed with the main office. The fourth grade teacher favors her son, gives him answers, and is abusive to Danny. Over the course of the year, the incidents become more severe. So do the charges. Danny knocks his own sister out of a chair with a closed fist when she won’t loan him a floppy disk; he kicks a boy violently enough that the boy had bruised ribs. That boy’s mother, scared by the profanity and threats, removed her son from the school and refused to take action against Danny and mother. At any given hour of the day, Danny’s mother and father can be seen driving by, watching the campus; parents at meetings start raising question about incidents that are untrue , but put forth by Danny’s parents. Danny’s parents routinely come during instructional hours, interrupting class, and routinely are in the principal’s office, alleging misconduct by the fourth grade teachers—especially the one who also has a fourth grader in school. The teacher of twenty-odd years is threatened with physical harm as well as lawsuits, and runs to her car in the afternoon. The principal fights for the rights of the teachers and other students. She presents documentation the size of a phone book when people from the main office come to investigate charges of child abuse. She hears from the superintendent, who received phone calls from Danny’s mother and board members while at a conference. Board members, who should not be involved with the micro-management of students in such cases, threaten the principal—but never talk to the teachers. Never. Over the summer, for reasons unknown, the district pays the woman money, warning her to leave the fourth grade teachers alone. The principal who fought so hard for right is transferred to a low-performing school, and an administration known not to take a stand against any parent moves in. Orders are given—the student goes to middle school in a year. NOTHING is to be done, no matter what Danny does. Danny continues to bully students. The fourth grade teacher’s husband threatened his own lawsuit after another attack against their son; the two are shuffled around to keep them apart. The others—. Present school year. Another lawsuit has been filed, against a teacher of almost thirty years, who tried to control Danny’s bullying. The Special Ed. teacher deals daily with emotionally disturbed children, and is one of the few specialists in the area. Michael Jackson-ish pictures are given to the local police showing Danny’s arms bruised and cut, even though a roomful of witnesses saw what happened and know that no injuries were inflicted. And in first grade, a student who threatened his teacher with death, a student several other schools expelled, a student who, although under medication, attacks grownup and uses profanity and physical violence, is shuffled from a room to another teacher, and then another, because the teachers are “exaggerating” the problem being called “f****ng stupid” creates for the other students. Already, this boy—six years old—is being called “Junior” when teachers speak among themselves. Another Danny, another problem the district will cave in to. A lunch box torn apart and swiped across a teacher’s throat, a fist to the glasses—please, you’re a professional. Deal with it. Exaggerated? No. Junior came to my class first, and it was my arm he twisted. My throat he threatened to slash. My kids—three of whom already are in the education field—blasted me for trying to work with Junior. But afraid that he might run out the open gate—a tactic he did try right before telling me his mother would sue—a committee moved him to another first grade class. She quit the day he hit her. I respect her for that. First graders—even fifth graders—may not bring guns to school. We’ve had knives, but so far no guns. But when Danny or Junior get to middle school—what’s to stop the tragedy the district’s cowardice and the mothers’ stupidity is creating? In middle school, Danny will either seriously injure someone—or he’ll be attacked, possibly killed. He’ll meet a bully bigger and more deadly than he is. And the mother will cry and sue again. The district deserves that. The kids and the educators trying to succeed in a needlessly hostile environment don’t.