“But nobody here listens to me,” Saul lamented as he tried to explain why he was in my office yet again this week. “I don’t know why I even bother to come here.” His refrain is a familiar one in my large, suburban high school. I have a feeling it’s a familiar one in high schools across the country. Our kids are crying out to be heard, and unfortunately, those cries often result in disciplinary referrals.
Saul is in my office this morning because he swore at one of our security guards when asked for a hall pass. According to my discipline matrix, I am supposed to suspend him for using defiant language toward an adult. So I begin filling out the paperwork, which agitates Saul even further. He stands up and yells, “I just wanna graduate. Why can’t everyone leave me alone?” Saul lets loose with another expletive.
I now have a choice. I can escalate the situation by reacting to his behavior and tacking on another day of suspension, or I can try to do what he asks and listen. I take a deep breath as I sit back and ask him to tell me the whole story. He eyes me suspiciously as he sits down. This is a kid who isn’t used to being heard. I can tell he is weighing whether or not he can trust me as he begins his story.
It turns out that Saul found out this morning his math grade was low enough to put graduation in jeopardy. This is a very big deal because Saul has been working long and hard to be the first in his family to graduate from high school. He had just stepped out of his math class to cool off when the security guard asked him to go back to class. When Saul refused to go, the guard made a sarcastic comment about Saul’s scholastic ability. Saul blew up. “I tried to tell him I couldn’t go back to class yet, but he wouldn’t listen.”
This is my first year as an administrator, and the biggest adjustment to the job has been my surprise at the sheer number of students who are sent to my office because of situations just like Saul’s.
It would have been easy for me to add an additional day to Saul’s suspension and send him on his way. But perhaps that would have resulted in an already borderline kid deciding to give up on school. Saul is close enough and determined enough (I hope) to graduate. But what about all of the other students who show up in my office? Will I have the courage and patience to listen to them? Will the other adults in my building?
I hope so. I hope we can all take a deep breath and listen.
Ryan Fear is a high school dean of students in Oregon.
