The failure of zero tolerance

Those are the incidents that make headlines. Less chronicled is the fact that, in many schools, zero tolerance has become a convenient tool for disposing of more and more children of increasingly young ages -- disproportionately poor and minority -- who may be irritating, problematic or troublesome, but hardly dangerous.

The number of students suspended each year almost doubled from 1.7 million in 1974 to 3.1 million in 1998; an additional 87,000 were expelled that year. While it is difficult to obtain timely, accurate data on this, anecdotal evidence certainly supports the conclusion that, in the wake of the Columbine shooting in 1999, these figures swelled even further. The numbers in some districts are staggeringly high. In Jefferson County, Fla., for example, 43 percent of the high school students and 31 percent of middle school students were suspended at least once in 1998. In Wisconsin, suspensions have increased 34 percent since 1991-92. Between 1994, when Chicago implemented its zero tolerance policy, and 1999, the annual number of students expelled there jumped from 23 to 737.

Not all of these students are committing mayhem in schools. Indeed, Indiana University professor Russell Skiba analyzed disciplinary data at both the district and national levels, and found referrals for the most serious infractions (drugs, weapons, gangs) to be "relatively infrequent." Rather, most discipline is levied on students who are tardy, absent, disrespectful or "non-compliant." In Milwaukee, for example, where, in 1998, between one-half and one-third of all middle- and high school students were suspended at least once, 97 percent of infractions involved no weapons, drugs or alcohol.

Such statistics raise serious concerns about a trend in which education is routinely denied to so many students -- under the rationale of discipline. The repercussions are significant. Most obviously, suspending a student increases the likelihood that he or she will fail academically, particularly in today's test-driven environments. Because fewer than half of the states require these kids to be placed in alternative settings, long suspensions also wreak havoc on their families, few of which possess the resources for private school or tutoring. Instead, banished students are simply released -- unsupported, unsupervised and frequently angry -- onto the streets. This is hardly a prescription for increased community safety.

Psychologically, such punishments can be devastating. They offer little in the way of instructive value, and exacerbate students' sense of alienation and distrust of authority. James Comer and Alain Poussaint, two of the nation's leading child psychologists, warn that overly harsh punishment "either destroys a child's spirit, has no effect at all, worsens the problem, or makes it more difficult for you to work with the child in school -- he or she no longer trusts you."

For those teenagers already disengaging from school, suspensions are particularly counterproductive. During a developmental period when their most urgent need is to connect and form trusting relationships, these sanctions isolate them from the only community they may know. Susan Black, education research consultant, has noted that "these kids often interpret suspension as a one-way ticket out of school -- a message of rejection that alienates them from ever returning to school." The ensuing chain reaction is depressingly predictable: school failure, dropping out, arrest and incarceration.

Not surprisingly, there is a strong racial subtext to this phenomenon. Minority children, particularly black males, are suspended, expelled and arrested in disproportionately high numbers. Nationwide, in 1998-99, African-American students accounted for 33 percent of all those suspended and 31 percent of all those expelled, yet made up only about 17 percent of all students.

In many districts, the disparities are significantly higher. "Opportunities Suspended," a report released by the Civil Rights Project at Harvard University and the Advancement Project, notes that in South Carolina, for example, black children represented only 42 percent of public school enrollment, but 61 percent of those charged with a disciplinary code violation.

According to "Schoolhouse Hype," a publication of the Justice Policy Institute, minority students in Maryland and Massachusetts are suspended and expelled at rates of two to three times that of whites. Recent studies conducted by local newspapers in Florida and Rhode Island found even wider racial disparities in suspension rates in those states.

Because this data is often so sketchy and difficult to obtain, the reasons for these disparities are not clear. But Russ Skiba's research takes issue with the common argument that these inequities exist because black males commit more serious infractions. He found that minority students are, in fact, disciplined more frequently and severely for less serious, and more subjective, offenses, such as "defiance of authority" or "disrespect" than their white peers; categories that offer more leeway for prejudice and stereotyping to become factors. (These also are categories of behavior that are most easily addressed through less Draconian measures.)

Skiba concludes that, when viewed alongside other data about racial disparities in school discipline, the disproportionate representation of African-Americans in office referrals, suspension and expulsion is evidence of a "pervasive and systematic bias."

Next Page: Behaviors that, in the past, would have resulted in little more than a visit to the principal's office

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