A juvenile court judge ruled last week that the Reginald F. Lewis High School student seen pummeling teacher Jolita Berry in that infamous cell phone video was not guilty of assault and battery.
Oh, excuse me: Charges of assault and battery against the girl were “not sustained by the facts.” We don’t use terms like “guilty” and “not guilty” to refer to juvenile offenders. Those are nasty words inconsistent with the little dear justice that juvenile justice has become.
So the little dear clearly seen thumping Berry only committed disorderly conduct and disrupted school activity. The beating was justified, you see, because witnesses said that Berry hit the little dear first.
What a revelation. Let me try this analogy: A cop is at a crime scene and tells you to get back because you’re in his space. You refuse and press the issue. The cop either shoves you or hits you. Then you give the cop a beat down.
Think a judge in any court in this town, juvenile or adult, is going to rule that you’re not guilty of assaulting a police officer because he hit you first? It could happen, but it’s not likely. My experience is that police are given the benefit of the doubt in those situations.
Now I know what some of you are thinking: But teachers aren’t cops. To which I would answer: Oh, the hell they ain’t.
In the sense that they are authority figures, teachers are every bit cops. They police our classrooms the way cops police our streets, and the jobs of teachers are just as important.
What was on trial in juvenile court last week wasn’t just some out-of-control teen who felt it was perfectly acceptable to fight the teacher because the teacher allegedly hit her first. The right of teachers to be the ultimate authority in their classrooms was on trial. And while the result may not have been a defeat for that right, it sure as heck wasn’t a clear-cut victory either.
In the past teachers backed up their authority with corporal punishment, which is why I’m not too sympathetic to the little dear’s “the teacher hit me first” defense. Had she gone to school in my day she’d have been popped not once, but often. If she’d hit back, the little dear would have been tossed out of the school system, permanently.
When I was in the third grade I had a gorgeous teacher by the name of Miss Moses. On our first day of class, she explained to us how she would keep discipline if any of us stepped out of line. Little girls’ dresses would go up, she told us, and little boys’ pants would come down. Our tiny fannies would then be tanned. Miss Moses didn’t hear a peep out of any of us in the third grade.
That was the way discipline was imposed in elementary school. By the time students in my day got to junior and senior high school, that discipline and respect for authority were ingrained in us. The entire process made for a better, more effective learning process.
To this day I still know the multiplication table. I know the decimal equivalent of certain fractions and can convert — in my head — all those decimals and fractions to percentages. I can figure out the 15 percent tip at a restaurant in my head. I know the difference between “your” and “you’re,” “there” “their” and “they’re” and am proficient in reading and writing. In short, I can still do things many of today’s students are challenged to do, and it’s not because I’m smarter.
It’s because I learned in a system where the teacher was the ultimate authority, where order prevailed in the classroom so that effective learning could take place.
In my 16 years in journalism, if there’s been a constant refrain I’ve heard from teachers — especially the ones in Baltimore — it’s this: That teachers spend so much time keeping order in the classroom that it’s difficult, if not impossible, for them to teach.
I doubt if the little dear, her lawyer or her supporters get that. They don’t get this either: The teacher isn’t just the ultimate authority in the classroom even if she hits you; she’s the ultimate authority ESPECIALLY if she hits you.
Gregory Kane is a columnist who has been writing about Baltimore and Maryland for more than 15 years. Look for his columns in the editorial section every Thursday and Sunday. Reach him at [email protected].
