Students Pay the Price of Corporate Greed

By: Lynda Otero

Growing up, my cousins were the only point of reference I’ve ever had for what school would look like. I have followed them through all the same schools and teachers, trailing behind a few years, up until college, territory only I have ventured into. I relied on them heavily to show me what was cool and what wasn’t, advice I was particularly looking for while going into middle school. However, in the end, my experiences in school, specifically middle school, were worlds apart from those of my cousins. 

My middle school was known for regular fighting. In the courtyard, the park across the street, in the creek behind campus, or even on the long-abandoned train tracks next to campus, there was sure to be a circle of tweens with their phones open to Snapchat to record another fight that week. My parents and I only knew this because my cousins had left that school with many stories of their own fights to tell. If they had been Girl Scouts collecting badges instead of tweens fighting, they’d be decorated Girl Scout veterans. They were often in the campus security office, suspended, or held for detention. My parents even considered putting me in self-defense classes because they did not believe the strategies the school employed were working. This fighting phenomenon perplexed the adults handling it. The school had campus security, safety monitors, and was even across the street from the Sheriff's office. More often than not, a Sheriff’s car would be parked right in front of the school office.

 Another relative of mine was completely expelled from any local public schools. They made the huge mistake of bringing a weapon onto campus in the 6th grade, and just like that, they were removed from the school district and deprived of any chance of attending any other local school districts. The only option available for them was to go to an alternative school in the neighboring town. There were never any conversations about the possibility of them going to college because of a mistake they made when they were eleven. His white classmates could make fake bombs and threats as much as they wanted and never face the same punishment he did. 

The reactions of adults in school to my cousin's behavior were always harsh. While their behavior was concerning, they were never met with adults who questioned why. There were no conversations about how they were doing or why they were acting out. It’s not that our school or the adults did not care, but that they did not have the resources to ask these questions. Our schools lack the funding to hire enough counselors for students. They need less punitive punishment, but also the money to explore that. It is the easy way out to rely on a heavily funded resource, such as the police, to solve our children’s behavioral issues. However, we have seen time and time again that they are not equipped to do so. By seeking out new streams of revenue, such as reforming Prop. 13, we can generate billions for our students to get the care they need. We can put more counselors on campus, we can train our teachers in restorative discipline, and separate education from the police. 

For so long, I was embarrassed to carry the same last name as my cousins. I hated the way teachers would launch into their cheating policies or how counselors would discourage me from taking advanced classes upon learning the alumni I am related to. I did not realize the weight they carried for me in being the very first to navigate school by themselves until I reached the point where I was the first cousin to be admitted to a university. They paid the price of our schools being under-resourced. If given the counselors and restorative discipline needed, they could have graduated high school and gone to college as well. I am not different or special compared to my cousins. I am just lucky to have them.