There’s nothing like being sexually harassed by a 3-year-old. Yes, I mean the 3-year-old is the perpetrator. A few years ago, the son of some family friends (let’s call him Jimmy; I’ve always wanted to write about someone with a protected identity) apparently decided to get a little frisky with his preschool teacher (let’s call her Mrs. Robinson). Translation: He gave her a pat on the behind. In a world of functioning and active rational faculties, one would expect Jimmy to be disciplined with an explanation of why we shouldn’t hit and why we shouldn’t touch other people’s behinds, followed (maybe) by a time-out.
However, the next day Jimmy was sitting in the principal’s office with his parents, facing potential expulsion for sexually harassing his teacher. I’m not going to get into this, but I think we can all sum it up in a sentence or two. The kid was 3! Clearly, he had intended the spank to be a precursor to a long and racy night with Mrs. Robinson.
It would be nice to assume Jimmy’s stint as a hardened criminal was an anomaly. But cracking open yesterday’s paper will destroy that illusion. Last week, 6-year-old Zachary Christie brought his favorite cub-scout utensil — a combination of a fork, knife and spoon (don’t ask me how this is possible) — to use at lunch at school. Because the part of the “sknork” (as coined by a Los Angeles Times reporter) that’s not the spoon or the fork violates the Delaware school’s zero-tolerance weapons policy, Zachary has been suspended and has been sentenced to 45 days in a “reform school.” Intensive corrective action is obviously necessary for this budding criminal.
I am not trying to trivialize the multitude of problems and tragedies that have resulted from weapons being brought to schools. But it is ridiculous to pretend there is no gray area between a gun-toting 15-year-old and a 6-year-old cutting Kraft singles with a glorified spork. It is patently obvious strict weapons rules should be in place. But shouldn’t they come with a little more elasticity? As mentioned in a New York Times article describing the incident, those promoting zero-tolerance policies fear that allowing teachers and administrators to make the call regarding weapons “holds the potential for discrimination and requires the kind of threat assessments that only law enforcement is equipped to make.”
This may be true, but it does not imply there can be no flexibility once each situation has been thoroughly analyzed by said law enforcement; there should be room to adjust the punishment based on the severity of the offense. Also, though this might be a too often-repeated refrain, there is definitely something to be said for the potential consequences of criminalizing kids’ actions at such an early age, especially when they neither result in harm nor are rooted in malicious intent. I have never taken an educational psychology class, but I think we’re all familiar with the ways people can soak up societal messages about themselves.
The main point here, though, is not the debate about zero-tolerance policies, which is really nothing new. The issue at hand speaks to the larger topic of how we make decisions in the lovely land of excess we call home. And one of those ways seems to involve a very pervasive fear of ourselves, like we always need something to stop us from the inevitability of going too far. Even though going too far is sort of an American theme (see also: military spending, environmental waste, Paris Hilton), this “all or nothing,” “better safe than sorry” approach does not prove valuable when applied indiscriminately.
For example, research in a September Newsweek article showed children are cognizant of and make judgments based on racial differences as early as six months into their lives. The article also concluded parents need to start talking to their kids about race more and earlier than they have been doing. Americans’ trepidation about racial (and gender, class, anything potentially controversial) dialogue parallels the problems of zero-tolerance policies: Either we discipline ourselves with an iron fist or we do nothing. If we don’t have zero-tolerance policies, we will breed murderers. If we talk about race, all it will reveal is that we’re all racist (so we should keep quiet). Both of these examples point to the fact that maintaining a level of flexibility is sometimes harder than making a categorical decision. But the bottom line is that there can be more value in an adaptable approach. It might be a good thing to keep in mind next time you get a love-bite from a preschooler.
Hannah Shtein ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in philosophy.
