When a school day goes wrong

In Henrico County, sleep might have been non-existent or extremely restless for school system and county government personnel on the evening of December 4. Earlier that day, a student was stabbed at Henrico High School.

Shortly after twelve noon, two students were involved in an isolated confrontation. One student used a knife to attack and stab a fellow student.

Early news reports stated that the wounded student was fighting for his life. Today, Thursday, December 5, local media reported that following surgery the student’s condition had stabilized.

I’m sure that news brought a slight sense of relief to the victim’s family and the personnel who responded to this unacceptable behavior.

As the investigation continues, maybe we will learn the reason for such a vicious attack. What school system and county leaders learn from this severe disruption of the school day might help to prevent similar conflicts in the future.

For 31 years, I served in the public schools of Virginia. As a teacher, assistant principal, and principal, I remember difficult moments when the day went wrong. When the life of the school is disrupted with extreme violence, students, parents, and school personnel can’t push an erase button. That day stays with them.

No matter how much is budgeted toward security systems, resource officers, extensive safety training for personnel, state and federal legislation, and a stringent code of conduct for students, school systems have no immunity from unsafe, violent disruptions of the school environment.

During the course of a school year, our Virginia public schools are required to make reports about student code of conduct violations. I’m not opposed to the reporting of this data. But, I want to know how the Virginia Department of Education and school systems use this data.

For example, can the review of this data be used to help schools reduce severe disruptions in the school day?

What can we learn about the frequency, timing, and location of these disruptions?

How early are we able to track tendencies of non-compliant student behaviors?

What triggers their non-compliance? Is it unsuccessful academic performance? Poor interpersonal skills? Instability at home? Mental/physical health trauma?

What might we lean about the two students involved with the stabbing at Henrico High School by asking similar questions?

Additionally, more probing questions must be directed at public school systems to understand how non-compliant students impact the morale of the school. For example:

How many students do we have in our high schools who should be rising seniors, but who are still considered freshmen because of not earning enough academic credits?

What type of audits are in place to determine if alternative education programs are truly meeting the academic and behavior needs of non-compliant students?

How many faculty and staff members file workmen compensation claims based upon injuries from breaking up dangerous fights or attempting to restrain an out of control student?

How many teachers resign each year from the pressure and stress of attempting to work with difficult students in challenging school environments?

If we have all of this data, and we aren’t using it to ask deeper questions to find ways to reduce disruptive behaviors and to make our school environments safer and more conducive for learning, then why do we continue to value its collection?

In the movie Moneyball, Peter Brand, an evaluator of the skills of baseball players, tells his general manager, Billy Beane, “There is an epidemic failure within the game to understand what is really happening.”

With our public schools in Virginia, I think there is an “epidemic failure” to understand the impact that vicious generational cycles of community neglect have on the daily performance of students who struggle academically, behaviorally, or both.

I will go to my grave wondering why we fail to see how the erosion and instability of our families impacts our schools. If we think our families aren’t in challenging circumstances, then how do we explain the creation of Family Advocate positions in our school systems?

As the investigation of this life threatening stabbing unfolds, we can expect finger pointing. Finger pointing makes for headlines and sound bytes, but rarely does it solve problems.

In our classrooms, data is a part of our instructional curriculum.

To improve our schools, when a school day goes wrong, don’t we owe our students, parents, teachers, and communities a thorough review of each incident including pivotal corresponding data about students and their families?

We know the answer is yes.

If we neglect the study of this information, we can expect more serious student incidents in our schools and less sleep for students, parents, teachers, and communities.

And that is unacceptable.