Everything I Needed to Know About Prison I Learned in Kindergarten

For two weeks I tried to work within my son’s public school to effect change. First I talked with the kind and caring teacher whom my son loved. I asked her why the most focal point in her classroom is what I call the “Naughty Worm Chart.” Here’s what it looked like: a huge green apple with a happy expression, below it a huge yellow apple with a slightly concerned expression and below that a huge red apple with a pained expression.

There were cutouts of worms and each worm had a student’s name on it. Every morning all the worms started out on the happy apple, but if a child didn’t follow the rules, in any way, they were told to move their worm to the yellow apple. (They also had to walk a lap around the playground during recess while the other children played.) If they misbehaved again, they were told to move their worm to the red apple and pay a visit to the principal’s office to receive a citation that they had to deliver to their parents.

My son’s teacher told me that the chart was necessary because she simply could not keep order in the classroom with 21 kids of widely divergent backgrounds without it. She said some children only listen to her after the “naughty worm” treatment.

I gathered that she was referring to one boy in particular—I’ll call him Darien—because his worm was often on the yellow or red apple. To me he was a delightful, spirited 5 year old. One day I said to my son, “Darien says the funniest things.” and he said, “Actually, I don’t like the things he says.” And I said, “What don’t you like?” and he said, “The things he says get him in trouble.” So there’s a lesson my son learned in his first 2 weeks of kindergarten: Don’t associate with the troublemaker.

My son’s teacher told me she went into teaching wanting to do it differently, to be the kind of teacher who leads by example, not by coercion. But she said that along the line administrators, other teachers, and even other parents have insisted on a system of punishment and rewards. So, in essence, she is being coerced to use power to enforce policies she doesn’t believe in because “that’s the way it is.”

Next I talked with the principal about effecting change. When we met, I made a specific request: I wanted her to transfer one of the teaching assistants, whom I had observed yelling at the kids. In one particularly egregious example she raised her voice to a Hispanic child saying, “I can’t understand you! Talk in English!” The child was speaking in English—quite well, in fact, but not perfectly, which is understandable given that it’s not his first language. The principal, however, never acted on—or even touched base with me about—this specific request. I knew she had a lot on her plate, but I couldn’t imagine how she would let this drop. And so, realizing that working with the school administration was not going to get the results I wanted, I turned to my fellow parents.

Margaret Mead once said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has,” and I have never doubted this maxim. For that reason I sought to form a small group of thoughtful, committed parents. How did I identify them? By observing which children clung to their parents each morning, crying, “Don’t leave me here.” I could see the look of pain in the parents’ faces and I thought it would be easy to enlist their help. It wasn’t.

When I talked to the moms about the problems inherent in a system that metes punishments for talking during lunch and rewards for following instructions in gym class (with lollipops), I got this response: “I think it’s okay that they’re expected to follow the rules. They should be disciplined if they don’t.”

My response was, “Well, it’s not that I want my son not to follow the rules. The thing is, I want him to question the rules.” I’m all for the rules that prevent people from smashing into my car because they honor a red light. I’m not in favor of following arbitrary rules that don’t make sense.

For example, students are expected to be silent as they walk through the halls. On the face of it, it seems reasonable—except that the teachers talk in the halls. They talk quietly so as not to disturb the ongoing classes. Kids can do that, too, but they’re not even given a chance. And so they see “do as I say, not as I do,” enacted on every trip outside the classroom. And they know they can get punished for doing what others are allowed to do.

But almost worse than the punishments are the rewards. I saw one of my son’s classmates in tears—not because she was punished, but because her friend received an award for being silent, an award she knows she will never get (she is often reprimanded for talking). And knowing she’ll never get that award probably makes her wonder if she’ll ever get any.

What does it say to our children when they are punished for being who they are and rewarded for being someone they’re not? Trust me, the little girl who received the “silence award” is just as spirited as any other kid and loves to laugh and tell jokes and do magic tricks, but you would never know that if you watched her in the classroom. She literally transforms into a shell of her self when she walks into that school. And she’s learning very quickly that this shell is what “works” in the “real world.”

Why have I a devoted an article to schooling? Not because I expect readers to join me in an attempt to change the system. Instead, I think it’s important to look at the educational system because it’s a relationship that most of us have experienced. I want us to look through the lens of schooling and talk about all of our relationships.

In all of our interactions with others, we run the risk of thinking of them as something other than ourselves, whether we think of them as children, or employees, or bosses, or snoring spouses. And we’re constantly tempted to treat them differently than we would want to be treated ourselves.

And so seeing my son’s school brought home to me the questions I always ask in times of conflict. Can we get our needs met, and help others get their needs met—without resorting to coercion? Can we learn and grow without feeling the imperative to suppress what is unique and beautiful about ourselves? Can we follow our hearts and help others follow theirs?

I believe the answer to all those questions is “yes.” And I’m constantly looking for that small group of thoughtful, committed people who believe it too. Because we’re going to change the world.

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