How many SUVs does a precinct need?
Our addiction to police and prisons harms schools materially and culturally
At the beginning of the pandemic, like many people, I started walking a lot. I needed a break from hours of staring at my screen during remote teaching. And there wasn’t really anything else to do.
I often walked to Highbridge Park, just a few blocks from my apartment at the time in Washington Heights. As I cut across Amsterdam Avenue, I would walk past the 33rd Precinct of the NYPD. As I walked by, I always noticed the rows of NYPD SUVs and vans parked outside.
When New York City school buildings closed and teaching went remote, I lost touch with about a third of my third graders. A number of them were living in shelters where they did not have internet access. Others were denied internet service by internet service providers because of unpaid bills (they were eventually forced to reverse course after I told Chalkbeat what was happening). Even before the pandemic broke my school community into disparate pieces, our students had many unmet needs.
I thought a lot about those needs whenever I passed the 33rd precinct. I estimated each SUV might be close to the salary of a first-year teacher, guidance counselor, or social worker.
It might be strange to some for a former elementary school teacher to be obsessed with abolishing police and prisons. I share this story as a way of trying to explain the connection. Policing, prisons, and schools are deeply interlocked. Another world is possible. It is a world with the schools young people deserve. It is a world where Tyre Nichols, Anthony Lowe, Jr. and thousands of others reach their homes safely. If we want this world, we must dismantle police and prisons.
This piece will be several parts. In upcoming posts, I will share excerpts of interviews with families, youth, and educators that describe how the carceral system impacts schools. They will also share their visions for what schools might look like in a post-carceral world. But, first, in this post, I will share some of my own reflections.
Mass incarceration shapes schools in at least two major ways - materially and culturally. Every dollar we put toward police and prisons is a dollar we’re not putting toward schools (or hospitals, housing, libraries…). In New York City, Mayor Eric Adams is putting this philosophy on stark display as he is trying to implement an austerity budget for practically every city agency except the NYPD. This is how we end up with police precincts overflowing with vehicles, riot gear, and weapons of war while schools lack nurses, guidance counselors, or clean drinking water.
Of course, that’s not all. What are some other ways our massive investment in mass incarceration shapes schools? By creating a world in which five million children have at least one parent in prison at one time or another. By creating schools where young people feel like criminals and are routinely attacked by the people hired to “protect them.” By turning teachers into mandated reporters who break up Black and Brown families.
Culturally, the connection between the carceral system and schools is just as strong. Schools, particularly serving kids of color, are often set up first and foremost to control bodies. Students are told how and when to sit, stand, line up, and speak. When they fail to comply, the dominant response in schools is punishment. Detention, suspension, and expulsion are tools that come from the paradigm of policing and prisons. I can hear folks asking, “Well, what are we supposed to do when students hurt others or prevent them from learning?” I’ll ask them to wait until the piece about post-carceral schooling for more information on restorative justice.
This is just a small sample of how mass incarceration shapes schools materially and culturally. In the coming weeks, I will share the perspective of youth, educators, and families on this topic.
When I decided to quit teaching, I told people I was burned out. Most assumed this was a result of COVID and remote teaching. This was true. But it’s also true that teaching had been wearing me down for years because I often felt like a prison guard as much as an educator. There are many reasons why I didn’t want to teach anymore, but one was that I didn’t want to be a part of a system that felt founded on punishment and control. I don’t think this is what schools are meant to be, but it’s how they often are. To remake schools into communities where young people can thrive, we have to change the whole ecosystem of schooling. That means we have to give up our addiction to police and prisons.
Other Recent Writing
Other Recommendations for Reading/Listening/Watching
We've Lost the Plot by Megan Garber, The Atlantic
New Yorkers Never Came ‘Flooding Back.’ Why Did Rents Go Up So Much? by Lane Brown, Curbed
The Mainstream Media’s Fearmongering About Trans Kids is Nothing But Clickbait by McKenzie Wark, The Nation
They Used To Skate With Tyre Nichols In Middle School. They Gathered Together To Grieve Him. by Albert Samaha, BuzzFeed News
