Schools as prisons
Recently, my sister in law brought my brother to the town she grew up in. They drove up and down the streets and she pointed out not only the house where she lived, but also the houses of friends and places she used to frequent.
The only down note of the day was when they went to her old middle school, which had been brand new when she had attended it. She, of course, wanted to show this off to my brother, but they were stopped at the door by a security guard, who sternly told them that no one was allowed in once the students arrived.
Although I do see a need for security, this seems a bit harsh. All my sister in law wanted to do was to see her old school. On the other hand, I understand the need to keep children secure.
The real problem, as I see it, is the overzealousness we use in maintaining this security, especially when it regards children.
In some ways, schools have become like prisons.
When I taught high school back in the 1990s, I used to joke with my students that school was a lot like prison: uniformed, regulated, very institutional in its architecture and its food, and completely robbing the students of their rights to do as they wished.
The students laughed back then.
Now, we have stories like the 13 year old girl in Arizona who was strip searched over some ibuprofen she supposedly had brought from home, violating the school's no tolerance anti-drug policy.
Jacob Sullun has published an excellent editorial on this case, and I agree that our excessive zeal for security has breached a type of civility that almost seems quaint now.
Children deserve respect for their personhood, and treating them as if they were no better than cattle, or worse, criminals, prepares them for live as slaves of a police state, not as citizens of a free democracy.
No security is worth crushing the spirit of our youth. Yet, it is happening every day. And worse, fewer and fewer adults are objecting.
The only down note of the day was when they went to her old middle school, which had been brand new when she had attended it. She, of course, wanted to show this off to my brother, but they were stopped at the door by a security guard, who sternly told them that no one was allowed in once the students arrived.
Although I do see a need for security, this seems a bit harsh. All my sister in law wanted to do was to see her old school. On the other hand, I understand the need to keep children secure.
The real problem, as I see it, is the overzealousness we use in maintaining this security, especially when it regards children.
In some ways, schools have become like prisons.
When I taught high school back in the 1990s, I used to joke with my students that school was a lot like prison: uniformed, regulated, very institutional in its architecture and its food, and completely robbing the students of their rights to do as they wished.
The students laughed back then.
Now, we have stories like the 13 year old girl in Arizona who was strip searched over some ibuprofen she supposedly had brought from home, violating the school's no tolerance anti-drug policy.
Jacob Sullun has published an excellent editorial on this case, and I agree that our excessive zeal for security has breached a type of civility that almost seems quaint now.
Children deserve respect for their personhood, and treating them as if they were no better than cattle, or worse, criminals, prepares them for live as slaves of a police state, not as citizens of a free democracy.
No security is worth crushing the spirit of our youth. Yet, it is happening every day. And worse, fewer and fewer adults are objecting.
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