“Tolerance isn’t just a discourse of power, it is also a discourse of conditionality; that is to say, you will be tolerated unless and until you behave in certain ways, at which point I will no longer tolerate you.”
― David Edmonds, Philosophy Bites

The relationship between technology and the classroom has long been a tenuous one. So too has the relationship between compliance and the classroom.

Too often, what we call “learning” is really just compliance dressed up in academic clothes. Which raises the uncomfortable question: are we truly fostering critical, curious learners, or are we modeling how to behave as prescribed adults?

Of course, some compliance is necessary. Without rules, you’ve got chaos—and nobody learns much in anarchy. But striking the balance between justifiable compliance and the convenience of adults? That’s the secret sauce. Unfortunately, the tilt usually favors the adults.

Discipline, Data, and the “Math Problem”

Parents are sometimes told that disruptive behavior might be a sign of giftedness. True enough—bright kids often aren’t well served by rigid structures, and boredom leads to acting out.

But when policymakers fixate on disparities in discipline data, nuance is often lost.

Dr. Adrienne Battle, MNPS superintendent, recently disclosed that racial disparities in suspensions and expulsions are at an all-time high. Her plan: reduce suspensions by 30%. A noble intent, but an arbitrary number. One teacher quipped:

“They give you a 3% COLA raise while demanding a 30% drop in suspension rates. Go figure.”

Here’s the math problem: 72% of MNPS students are Black, Hispanic, or Native American. Many schools are 95%+ students of color. If most infractions come from majority-minority schools, disparities are baked into the numbers. It’s demographics, not discipline.

Principals were told they could still suspend—just be “more thoughtful” about it. In practice, that often means informally suspending students (sending them home without paperwork), which lowers data points but doesn’t solve problems. It creates a façade.

When everything is reduced to numbers, narratives get manipulated. The reality gets buried—and sometimes, with tragic consequences.

At Antioch High School, the student behind last year’s shooting had previously threatened a classmate with a box cutter. In the district’s effort to lower suspension disparities, the consequence was minimal. Instead of removing a clear safety risk, policy choices kept him in the classroom—until the inevitable tragedy occurred.

An honest conversation about discipline has to start with honest data. But instead of facing that reality, we’ve grown comfortable tinkering with numbers and shifting expectations to suit the narrative.

Technology and the Temptation of the Ban

The same gap between appearance and reality shows up with technology. Rather than grappling with how new tools might help, we rush to impose bans and draw hard lines — as if prohibition were a substitute for thoughtful guidance.

I’ve seen this cycle before. I remember when calculators were banned. “That’s cheating!” adults barked. “Kids must do it longhand.” Today, accountants file entire returns on calculators and software. The ban seems laughable.

Enter artificial intelligence. AI is the latest boogeyman in education, framed as a “cheating machine.” The focus is on student misuse rather than teacher benefit.

But teachers have long carried the burden of unpaid labor—nights spent scouring Google, tweaking lessons for special ed or ELL students. AI offers relief. Tools like Brisk, Magic School, and Diffit reduce prep time and allow more creativity.

Some argue AI robs kids of critical thinking. Yet, as one Texas teacher demonstrated, it can actually sharpen critical thinking.

He fed ChatGPT a zombie apocalypse thought experiment his students had debated for years. The AI coldly “killed” a character for reproductive reasons. Students were horrified. They pushed back, debated, challenged the AI’s reasoning. That debate was richer because of the algorithm’s dispassionate logic.

Without AI, the teacher could have done it himself—but only after hours of prep. AI freed him to facilitate instead of fabricate.

Teaching the Tool, Not Banning It

Like any tool, AI isn’t perfect. Young children are especially vulnerable to over-trusting it. Already, some students are letting AI “think” for them. That’s why the solution isn’t bans, it’s instruction.

To preserve accountability, some teachers are rethinking how they design assignments in the age of AI. Instead of banning tools outright, they’re structuring work so that the process matters as much as the product. Google Docs’ version history lets them see how an essay develops step by step, making it harder for a student to simply paste in a finished draft.

Other teachers require students to submit planning notes alongside their final work, or even assign critiques of AI-generated essays. In each case, the goal is the same: keep students responsible for the thinking behind the assignment, not just the polished end result.

This works because of trust. Education has always relied on the trust between teacher and student. Who better to teach proper tool use than a trusted educator?

My father taught me to use a hammer. He didn’t ban it. Uninstructed, I could have caused damage. AI is no different—it’s just a tool that requires guidance.

Safety: Where Appearance and Reality Collide

We worry endlessly about the risks of AI in the classroom, yet we ignore more tangible threats in the hallway. Once again, appearance and reality diverge. We talk about taking threats seriously, but our actions don’t always back it up.

This week, two middle school students were arrested for sending photos of guns and threatening shootings. These kids likely had no idea the gravity of their actions, but their lives will now be permanently altered.

Police insist they take school threats “very seriously,” yet MNPS has installed weapons detection systems only in high schools, leaving middle schools unprotected. If law enforcement views these threats as serious enough to prosecute children, shouldn’t the district view them as serious enough to invest in preventing them in the first place?

Growth vs. Achievement: The Victory Parade Problem

MNPS recently rolled out a celebratory press release announcing that the district had once again earned a Level 5 TVAAS growth rating — the fourth consecutive year at the state’s highest mark. “This incredible achievement is the result of the hard work and dedication of our teachers, staff, students, and families,” said Dr. Adrienne Battle, before quickly pivoting to frame the streak as proof of her leadership. Board Chair Freda Player piled on, crediting Battle’s “steady and strong leadership” for the accomplishment.

What the release left out are two inconvenient truths. First, TVAAS measures growth, not proficiency. And proficiency is what ultimately matters when students apply for jobs, colleges, or trade programs. According to the state report card, just 33.4% of MNPS students in grades 3–5, 28.4% in grades 6–8, and 25.2% in grades 9–12 met achievement benchmarks — all below the state average of 39.6%. Growth may look good on paper, but if three out of four high school students aren’t proficient, that’s hardly grounds for a celebration.

Second, context matters. Five years ago, pandemic closures drove scores off a cliff. As classrooms reopened, scores naturally rebounded. Growth looks dramatic when you’re climbing out of a hole, but does simply returning to pre-pandemic levels really warrant a victory parade?

And perhaps most telling: while the press release showered praise on Dr. Battle, it offered little recognition to the teachers who carried students through those hard years. The district is quick to celebrate leadership, but without the people in classrooms, there would be nothing to celebrate at all.

Horses Win Races

The district is quick to celebrate leadership, but without the people in classrooms, there would be nothing to celebrate at all. And that’s the point too often forgotten: no amount of “steady and strong leadership” wins the day without the people doing the teaching.

You can’t win without the horses. Teachers are the horses. Leadership might hold the reins, but without quality teachers, there is no race.

I’ve been watching the Netflix documentary on the Dallas Cowboys dynasty. Three Super Bowls in four years. Coaches and owners took the credit. But when Aikman, Irvin, Smith, Sanders, and Haley left, so did the winning.

You can’t win without the horses. Quality players make coaches look brilliant; weak ones make them look lost. The same is true of schools. Teachers carry the load, and when they leave demoralized or undervalued, no leader’s reputation survives long.

If I were in charge, I’d build private bathrooms for teachers before I built one for myself. That’s the kind of leadership that matters.

But what do I know?

Closing Thought

Compliance, discipline, technology, achievement—it all comes back to trust. Trust between teacher and student, between district and families, between schools and community. Data can be spun, tools can be banned, victories can be paraded. But without trust, it’s all window dressing.

The work of real education is messier, slower, harder. But it’s also more human. And in the end, you can’t ban, manipulate, or growth-score your way to trust.

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Categories: Education