It was just a regular morning in my classroom in Manhattan’s Hamilton Heights neighborhood. My third graders were heading back to their seats for math when John “accidentally” hit a classmate with a chair. John loudly and indignantly denied it.
I found myself faced with a few different responsibilities. I needed to send a message to John (not his real name) that this behavior was not acceptable. I also needed to let his classmate know that I would stand up for his safety. Finally, I wanted to let John know that I cared about him and trusted him (even though he’s very “accident prone”).
I suggested John take a break in our classroom’s “relaxing area,” a message to calm down so we could resolve the issue. This made John feel punished and under attack, so he gave me the middle finger and walked out the door.
According to the New York City Department of Education’s (DOE) Code of Conduct and Discipline, John’s behavior could be classified a few different ways. Since this wasn’t his first offense, one option was to remove him from my classroom for one to three days — in other words, give him a Principal’s Suspension.
This is a natural inclination for many teachers. Some opt to suspend a student based on their own schooling experiences, while others have run out of patience and ideas. In either case, most teachers use suspensions to send a clear message that an inviolable line has been crossed. But I found myself at a crossroads.
I asked myself whether a suspension would be the right consequence for John, or any other student that struggles to meet the behavioral expectations placed on them. I needed a serious intervention for John, because my other approaches — like giving him extra attention and creating an individualized behavior plan — weren’t working. I also needed to safeguard the learning of John’s classmates. Still, I knew a suspension for John could likely do more harm than good.
Recently, growing pressure has mounted to decrease, if not eliminate, the number of suspensions in schools. The frightening correlation between suspensions, dropouts, and incarcerations — particularly of Black and Latino youth — has been framed as the school-to-prison pipeline.
In response, the city announced School Climate Reforms this February, intended to promote “dignity and fairness” in schools. Included in this initiative is a $1.2 million commitment to expand restorative justice practices, or practices that try to repair whatever is broken.
Restorative justice gained attention recently in response to the overreach, if not outright failure, of zero tolerance polices popularized in classrooms in the 1990s. Within the restorative framework, students who misbehave participate in one of several possible activities. There may be a community circle, collaborative negotiation, peer mediation, or a formal restorative conference. These activities are intended to build community, trust, and confidence.
However, despite being a worthy effort, money alone will not ensure the success of restorative justice efforts for New York City’s one million students. Rather, 70,000 teachers like me will need to know that it’s an effort worth undertaking — and be offered ongoing support to implement it properly.
Teachers tend to filter schooling through their own experiences as students — which often included suspension as a disciplinary measure. In addition to changing entrenched mindsets, restorative justice efforts will require intensive training for all school staff, including guidance counselors and school safety officers. Most importantly, it needs to legitimately help us be more effective teachers, and not just create a new metric to track.
What would restorative look like with my student John? A group — likely comprising John, me, some of John’s classmates, and a facilitator (which my school does not have) — would come together to talk through John’s actions. Together with John, we would create a plan to repair the harm.
With behavior like bullying or fighting, this may still result in a suspension. The difference, however, would be an intentional effort to discuss the root cause of John’s behavior and develop a shared plan to reduce future incidents. For example, if John’s behavior flared up during reading lessons, I would be responsible for planning specific supports to deal with his frustrations with this subject.
This approach to discipline has been credited in part or full for reducing suspensions by as much as 50%. According to a case study by UC Berkeley School of Law, restorative justice also helped students assume greater autonomy and responsibility.
Steven Brady, an assistant principal at East Bronx Academy for the Future, where restorative justice practices have been in place for three years, echoed this statement. In addition to helping students through conflicts, Brady said that restorative justice “allows the students to learn to become great listeners. It has become a maturing process as well.”
Some educators question whether restorative justice is truly disciplining the problem behaviors as effectively as suspensions, or if it is just a touchy-feely “talking circle…where [kids] can discuss their feelings.” In other words, does restorative justice send the message that disruptive behavior is acceptable?
For teachers, every reaction (or lack thereof) to student behavior sends an implicit message. It’s a constant push and pull in my own mind. Should I sweat the small stuff, like when my third graders don’t bother to put caps back on markers? Or should I chalk it up to typical eight-year-old behavior?
The weight of a teacher’s choice is much heavier when dealing with bullying or cursing in the classroom. Most teachers, including myself, fret over the message a student might receive when they “get away with something.” However, at a recent workshop on restorative justice, the facilitator reframed the issue: “What type of message are you sending [to a student] if you say you are not a part of this community because of their behavior?”
This implicit message is that some children — predominantly boys of color — are unwelcome in public schools. This is what scholars and activist groups like the Dignity in Schools Campaign believe drives the connection between suspensions, dropout rates, and too often, prison.
JJamaal Bowman, principal of Cornerstone Academy for Social Action (CASA) Middle School in the Bronx, instituted restorative justice at his school in 2009, largely to curtail the dropout rate. “Children are already alienated and disengaged from adults,” Bowman wrote to me. “Students come with a lot of baggage, so we have to be sensitive to [their] holistic needs.”
During the initial transition to restorative justice, CASA still relied heavily on suspensions to address, in Bowman’s words, a “particularly rambunctious student body.” Six years later, the school has cut suspensions by two-thirds. It no longer uses suspensions for insubordination, which is particularly important because nationally, “willful defiance” is the most racially disproportionate cause for suspension.
Bowman believes the restorative justice effort is a still work in progress. Some teachers want to continue relying on suspensions because they don’t feel like they can address misbehavior effectively any other way. Bowman recognizes that these teachers still need more handholding to successfully implement restorative practices.
The city plans to expand restorative approaches to a hundred New York City schools by September 2015. CASA’s experience seems to be a clear sign that the DOE’s goal will be a heavy lift.
In a March 25th testimony to the New York City Council’s Education Committee, high school student Onyx Walker spoke about his school’s attempt to implement peer mediation. A teacher at Walker’s school launched this program, but due to other professional duties and a lack of funding, the program quietly folded.
There is a growing grassroots effort that advocates for training and additional support when implementing restorative practices. Activist group Teachers Unite is calling for a restorative justice coordinator position in all schools, along with changes in the discipline code and significant investment in professional development.
A standalone position like this would cost at least $40,000 per school, substantially more than the DOE’s current budget could afford. However, this position would provide crucial on-site support to make sure teachers have the time and coaching to make practices like restorative circles happen.
At this point, the DOE has, for the most part, only trained teachers in creating community circles. These circles don’t help teachers to “respond to harm,” like cursing, fighting or bullying. Furthermore, teachers receive little in the way of continued education of this practice. If teachers are expected to use restorative justice approaches in place of suspensions, but aren’t given all of the tools, it will doom this promising idea to failure.
I teach at a small school where we don’t even have a full-time guidance counselor. To run a restorative intervention we would need somebody — a counselor, dean or assistant principal — to facilitate. Currently, when students like John experience a crisis, it’s left to teachers to resolve them the best we can. When we run out of ideas, suspension sometimes seems like all that’s left.
I want to stop John from hurting others, but not by suspending him. I don’t know how to keep him in the classroom and continue with my lessons. In the current system, I feel stuck between sending a message that his behavior must change and a message that he is welcome and valued in my classroom.
For restorative justice to succeed, teachers like me need to see that it offers an opportunity to send both messages at once. We will also need the support to fully realize this opportunity. This will require a more significant commitment than one dollar for each of New York City’s public school students. It will require the long-term, multi-faceted support that any worthwhile new practice deserves.