My Own Personal Tolerance Nightmare in Indiana

Below is the story about Adam and how a harsh Zero Tolerance policy changed his life.

Adam's Story:

I hadn't had the best record, I will start with that. Though not the sort that involved deliquency and violence. Far from it, at the time I was rather introverted and shy, a calm an quiet student. I'd had less than the best home environment growing up, and yes, I was often depressed as many high school children in all honesty are. But never once had I even entertained thoughts of harming my fellow students, or faculty members. I was known, and would be descibed by many of my teachers as someone who "wouldn't harm a fly." My problems, such as they were, had laid in attendance and schoolwork itself. I had a very high IQ level for my age, and had all though school. Advanced placement simply wasn't an availability at the time, and I stagnated with no stimulator or new learning. Bored out of my mind at the time and not yet blessed with the fortitude of will and farsight to fully see the benefits of education in the long-term, I floundered. Harassed, from verbally to physically at every given opportunity by many classmates and being of dimunitive build at the time, I was afraid. Due to both of these things together, I was frequently missing school and being tardy.

This was, at least, until my Senior year. Despite all my failings, I actually had a chance to graduate thanks to good test scores barely pulling me through enough classes. It was made clear, however, that more would be needed. Following inspiration part formed of growing up and part of the fear that I might not graduate and thus be forced to spend even more time in the private hell I'd come to know over the four years thus far, I managed to excel. For the first time in my entire education, grade school to middle school to high school, my report card was a neat row of A's and high B's. With the pride I came to know in myself from these successes, they strengthened my resolve. By two short months from final graduation, I soared. I was getting straight A's, and had taken a new fondness for music to state soloist finals. My confidence was the best it had ever been, and even the bad points in my life at that time couldn't touch me.

At the time, I worked for a local department store, mostly in the back room, new and young as I was. My job description could best be described as cut open box, load contents onto pallet, repeat. As such, I had a knife (and I can tell all of you can already see where this is going) that I used for just that utility. Now, the backroom was cold more often than not, being over air-conditioned, and so during that time I would often wear my coat. When arriving home, I would always remove that knife from my jacket and place it aside. The reason for this was that at school, despite the warm months, it was common practice to keep a jacket on you during classes. The school building was old, and the ventilation system a marvel of inefficiency. Half of the school recieved little to no air conditioning and baked it's occupants slowly to a crisp, while the other was over air-conditioned to the point that unless well-clothed one would find their hands shaking too severely to hold a pencil. (Especially soaked to the bone from their sojourn in the oven-like portions of the school.) One the day I'm afraid I'll always remember far too well, I had forgotten to remove the knife from my jacket pocket. I had just moved from my freezing math class in the basement to a science class in one of the overheated portions of the school, and so off went the jacket to hang over the back of the chair. Out tumbled the knife from my jacket, which then clattered onto the floor.

I was terrified. I'd heard of the zero tolerance policy, and knew exactly what it would probably mean if found. I tried to pick it up, to decide what to do next, but it was already too late. The teacher had seen it, and asked that it be turned in. I was well-behaved, always had been, and didn't question, just turning the knife in promptly. Nothing immediately happened, and I thought perhaps just a confiscation was in order despite my fears, and managed to relax a little.

Of course, two periods later, I would find just how false that security was. I was called into the Dean's Office, while they immediately explained to me that I would be expelled. Yes, no hearing yet, but it was to them a foregone conclusion. I will make no apologies for how I reacted, for I was a scared kid, on the edge of 18. I was told that all my hard work amounted to nothing. A child whom had overcome the odds of years of failure to turn his grades and education around was told that it didn't matter. I didn't scream, nor did I shout, nor did I rage. I broke down in that office and I cried, while they called my mother and told her to come pick me up. I think that somewhere amidst my sobbing something along the lines that I must have, in fact, been cursed, though in the place of "cursed" I used a word in fact, beginning with a D and ending in -ed, which unsure of the sensitivities of this forum I will not print here. (The school would add this statement in the midst of despondency to my list of infractions, "Use of profanity.")

The school declared that I would be suspended pending hearing. The days dragged by, and I dared to hope. After a nine day minimum mandatory suspension, I was at last called into hearing. In the words of the school board, the point of the ruling was thus. Nine day was mandatory by the laws of the State of Indiana. The ruling was to determine whether or not my returning to school to finish the year would present a legitimate threat to the students and/or faculty of the school.

The response of the teachers themselves was overwhelming. Any teachers whom had any amount of experience with me, including the teacher who turned in the knife, testified that I was not, nor had I ever been violent. They all agreed that I was not a threat to anyone around me. I began to worry even as the hearing began, however. The court appointed official designated to oversee the hearing and pass ruling was impatient and terse throughout the entire hearing. She certainly did not appear to care about the gravity of the situation, at many times asking if it could be "wrapped up quickly" as she had some sort of undefined appointment to get to. Discussion dragged on while I sat there, and then more while I was asked to leave. We were at last told a decision would come in the mail within 7-10 days.

I waited, I hoped, and I prayed. At last, the letter came, and I didn't have the courage to open it. I sat and stared at it, until at last my mother came home and opened it. As she looked to me after she read it, I didn't need to ask what the outcome was. I had been completely expelled, my credits erased from that semester, all would be marked as failing grades. Community service was demanded as well.

I had been a child upset, sometimes, but the irrational judgement handed down on the eve of my graduation drove my sense of the world far and away from anything I'd known up until that point. I drew further into myself than I'd ever been, and my mind for the first time ever truly started to dwell on suicidal thoughts which would linger for years to come. My family would fight further, and some small concessions were at last made. Eventually, partway into the next school year, I would be allowed to return, but unfortunately damage was already done. The shining grades which I'd earned that pervious year had been an intense effort on my part as a student who'd spent his entire educational career until that point failing repeatedly. The events of that expulsion had convinced me, even though falsely, that attempts at good grades were futile at worse, fragile and unreliable at best, as they could apparently so easily be taken from me by chance and circumstance. I had lost the will I'd gathered to the task of my education, and six months later I would drop out, believing my best efforst to be futile and a diploma something out of my grasp.

It would be three years later before I would get my G.E.D., and three after that before I could enter college. That takes me to now. I am currently in my first term at a local campus of the state university, and feeling confident that I will continue to do well. I feel no hesistance at all, however, to say that this is in spite of the educational system's policies and not because of them. Even now I will admit I made a mistake at 18, but not one meriting such wanton disregard for my well-being and future. The event had lasting effects, which I have managed to overcome, but are still felt as post-recovery from the sever depression that followed for years afterwards, I look to finishing my first year of college at age 25. There are no doubts in my mind that the impact of Zero Tolerance on my life has been both lasting and inarguably negative.

After all this, I do not wish any mistakes to be made regarding my position on weapons in schools. I do not believe that weapons should be allowed into schools, far from it. Violence and drugs in schools, that which takes the life of a child is a cancer within our society by my belief. Even my situation, from the eyes of the administrators, I can see warranting some action, even if that is further evaluation by psychiatric professionals to determine my mental state at the time, and if that had happened I could look back on it now with understanding. Zero Tolerance, however, is a blind and unthinking beast lurching towards the operation table with chainsaw in hand. It's failure is the removal of the most crucial and valuable tools in the treament of this cancer, those being the human capacities of compassion and reason. It removes the decision making process regarding the future of students entirely from the due process of dealing with apparent infractions of school rules. Administrators should be allowed to judge, and weigh each situation individually. They should be allowed to use common sense to prevent good, well-meaning students who present no actual danger from being swept clean in the manic attempt to remove all perceived threats in a fit of risk-management. They should be allowed to tailor the punishment to fit the crime. Zero Tolerance, as I have seen, makes no distinction and allows no reason.

I have read many cases, many worse than my own in consequence. I call Administrators in their call for safety of the children to consider this: that there is more than one way to cripple or destroy a life. Just as surely as a knife can maim and a bullet can kill, so too can blind policy hinder futures and careless punishment kill opportunity. Be you wary, school administrators and national lawmakers, for if you are not, you may very well commit crimes against the well-being of the children the law is meant to protect.