I often get questions about how to occupy kids during the summer. But why settle for just keeping them busy? Here are 5 things, in no particular order, you can do to make this a transform­ative summer for children of any age.

1. Replace the phone. The developmental risks associated with smart­phones have been well documented, but what’s the alternative? Summer is a great time to find out because it allows kids more runway to adapt. Many parents are turning to devices that allow kids to communicate with friends but restrict internet access. Options include smartwatches, “dumb phones,” feature phones, landlines, shared tablets, and “house” smartphones.

Not only do such alternatives alleviate the social, mental, and intellectual dangers of smartphones, but they also ensure kids won’t squander the most precious free time they may ever have lying around scrolling.

2. Build something. Research shows that building things with their hands gives children repeated opportunities to practice planning, problem-solving, spatial reasoning, fine motor control, creativity, persistence, and collaboration. It helps them learn processes, follow directions, and build confidence. And when their project is done, they see that hard work pays off with something useful or beautiful.

Like what? If you have tools and are willing to supervise, woodworking projects like birdhouses and chests are great options because they keep on giving after completion. Supervision may also be required for meal-making and sewing. But many things don’t require much oversight, including model sets, terrariums, crocheting, scrapbooking, gardening, and needlepoint. One thing that jumps out from research is that the biggest benefits often come from projects with a real purpose and a real audience. A child who repairs a bike they actually ride, sews a pillow they actually use, or grows tomatoes the family actually eats is usually more invested than a child completing a purely academic project.

3. Get a library card (and use it). A reasonable way to restrict kids from wasting their days scrolling or playing video games is to tie it to reading. For example, you might allow them an hour of screen time for every hour of reading. With a library card, kids can pick out any books they want at no cost. Being able to choose books without having to take tests or write reports pumps up the excitement, so encourage them to browse, follow their interests, and ask the librarians for suggestions.

At first, it might feel like drudgery, but all it takes is for one book to capture their attention, and the rest of their lives may be forever changed.

4. Get a pet. And, no, it doesn’t have to be a dog or cat; gerbils, fish, praying mantises, and geckos qualify, too. Studies suggest that caring for pets helps kids build confidence, feel less lonely, develop empathy, and reduce anxiety. Most importantly, pets help build responsibility — provided you actually hold kids accountable for their care (otherwise, it’s just another way to reinforce that if the child shirks his obligations, someone will always bail him out).

It can be hard, however, to instill that responsibility during the school year because of academic and extracurricular duties, making summer the perfect time to begin a daily plan for taking care of the pet.

5. Find a place of worship. Modern childhood and adolescence are filled with unique anxieties and pitfalls. But studies show that kids who participate in healthy, supportive faith communities can gain a range of positive outcomes, including lower rates of depression and anxiety, greater resilience after hardship, higher life satisfaction, greater sense of purpose, more optimism about the future, stronger moral frameworks, and clearer identity formation.

Researchers have also found links between religious participation and traits such as gratitude, forgiveness, generosity, self-control, and compassion. Perhaps best of all, you can do it together, which leads to greater family cohesion.

Each of these summer quests has the potential to become a turning point for children, helping them discover new horizons and develop new interests. Don’t just look to pacify children’s summer boredom today. Do it in a way that transforms who they become ten years from now.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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Writer Liz Flaherty says she and her husband still use a familiar expression.

“That’s how I grew up.”

For example, when he questions why she says, “Don’t wipe the counters with dish towels,” her answer is, “That’s how I grew up.”

They’ve been married 55 years. You’d think they’d be over falling back on habits learned three-quarters of a century ago. But no.

A colleague recently had to wait for someone to move their double-parked car. I stayed with her until he got there. Gallant? Not really. That’s just how I grew up.

I hold the doors for others. I say hello to people. When I take people home, I wait for them to get inside. That’s how I grew up.

If that sounds like bragging, it shouldn’t, unless it’s bragging on my parents. I often do these things against my own will. Truth is, when I drop you off, I’m ready to leave. But I don’t because that’s how I grew up.

What’s remarkable is that at my age, I still rely on habits that I was taught as a child. You would probably say the same thing, which shows the outsized effect of lessons we learn in childhood. They stay with us. That’s why there are no “days off” in parenting and why it’s so important to know what kind of adult you want your child to become.

Every demand you make is an algorithm for adulthood. Every expectation is a seed that will someday sprout. Thus the proverb, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.”

But it also works the other way. I’m liable to laugh at a coarse joke. I forget to write thank-you notes. I’m impatient.

That, too, is how I grew up.

I bet a lot of your flaws can be traced back to child­hood, too. Childhood is the kingdom where every shortcut you’re allowed to take becomes your regular route in adulthood. It’s where fertilized selfish inclinations eventually become rooted.

It’s important for parents to clip the darkest roots before they grow too deep. We train children how to act by what we allow, stop, and reinforce. If you permit your children to treat you disrespectfully, throw tantrums, and waste money, they will grow up to become that kind of adult.

So in twenty years, what actions will make today’s kids say, “That’s how I grew up”? I wonder about this because the world looks different now.

Far fewer demands are made. Schools trend toward catering to children rather than training them. Helicopter parenting prevents kids from exercising real choices. Machinery does all their work.

The child’s comfort is paramount, so selfish behavior isn’t corrected. Children aren’t taught to hold the door for others; others hold the door for them. They’re not trained; they’re heralded, so they never learn that their behaviors matter to others. It’s like a gallery where the viewer gets the spotlight and the canvas remains in darkness.

Perhaps a bigger problem is that we don’t actually know who’s raising them. Yes, in one world, it’s parents and teachers. But in the other—the virtual realm that materializes the moment a child is handed a tablet and where parental guidance has been replaced by website blockers—who knows?

Who’s producing all those YouTube and TikTok videos? Who’s designing those video games and playing them with your child online? Who are those streamers? What are their values?

I don’t know, and neither does the average parent, yet they have more influence over this generation than any strangers in history. They’re not just influencers; they’re proxies. In the child’s virtual world—which is just as real to them as home—strangers instill the values and shape the behaviors.

We live in fearful times, but there are rays of light. Tablets can be taken away like any dangerous toy. Parents can still train up a child by being firm, loving, and smart. And the kids of those parents are rising to the top like never before. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

That’s how I grew up.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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I’ve observed a concept occurring in several public schools called “blitzing.” It starts about a month before standardized testing begins. It seems to be a very chaotic attempt at “cramming” for the test. What are your thoughts?

Such practices do take place in many schools across the country. “Blitzing” (there are several terms for it, but I like yours) can involve any or all of the following:

Schools reorganize the day entirely. Instead of students changing classes, each group stays in the same room except for lunch and related arts. Related arts teachers are pulled away from their own subjects and reassigned to test-prep lessons. Academic teachers rotate from room to room teaching groups of students they may not even know.

It may involve abandoning electives, regrouping students by performance level, concentrated remediation blocks, academic “boot camps” and “power hours,” benchmark-prep weeks, and rotating intervention teachers. Essentially, it’s no-holds-barred, all-hands-on-deck test preparation.

The obvious conclusion is that standardized testing must be really, really important to the blitzers because one of the most valuable strategies used by high-quality schools is routine. Research — including a major Economics of Education Review study — confirms that kids perform better, behave better, and learn at higher levels when schedules, teachers, and norms are predictable, routine, and orderly.

Therefore, schools willing to sacrifice something so valuable must believe the payoff justifies it. But what is the payoff? It’s not big learning jumps. Administrators will tell you themselves: it’s small increases. They don’t hide the fact that a point here or there can make the difference between the top schools, the average ones, and the failures. And who can blame them? Most incentives in education are built around higher test scores.

Hence, if such tactics ever did result in big gains, you can bet that 1) every school in the country would be doing it, and 2) they would do it all year long, because in education if one bottle quiets the baby then administrators reason that a hundred will make him ecstatic.

None of this is to say that higher scores are a bad thing. Scores give us valuable information about what students are and are not learning, and we should treat them seriously. But what we should not do is sacrifice the child’s long-term learning to chase marginal and often temporary score increases. And when we interrupt stable classroom relationships and authentic learning environments to cram for a test, that’s exactly what we’re doing.

Consider the blitzers that make related arts teachers abandon their subjects in favor of test prep activities. Yes, reading and math are critical skills. But so are art, music, PE, health, and other enrichment subjects. When we dump them for test-cramming, we’re not sending the message that reading is more important than art — we’re showing kids that the State Assessment of Basic Reading Skills is more important than art.

That’s not good for anybody, especially a system that should be designed to enlighten all aspects of a student’s academic world, not develop tunnel vision for a few “priority standards.”

Obviously, targeted review before an exam is normal and reasonable, and it’s common within the subject areas being tested. But restructuring an entire school around short-term test cramming raises serious questions about priorities. Is this really why we put our kids on buses and send them off to schools every day?

When our kids accept their diplomas, are we anxiously hoping they remember how to determine the surface area of a rectangular prism and distinguish between the 3rd person limited and omniscient point of view? If we want something broader and stronger for them, then it’s difficult to see how “blitzing” helps.

But simply ending the method won’t fix the problem. In education, our methods start much farther upstream, with our values — like regarding authentic learning above metric performance. Our values determine our goals and our goals determine our methods.

To strengthen the methods, we must repair the values.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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I’ve read about schools moving back start times. My child’s high school is considering 10 AM! Is this necessary?

The American Academy of Sleep Medicine says that 13-18-year-olds should get 8-10 hours of sleep daily. But the CDC says only 16 to 30% are getting enough.

The APA names biology as a key reason: during puberty, youth circadian rhythms shift, making it harder to fall asleep until later at night.

Perhaps that’s why a Pediatrics study found that students in schools with 8:30-8:59 start times slept more, were in better moods, and had better health outcomes than kids in schools with 8:00-8:29 start times. Academically, a study in the Journal of School Health found that later start times correlated with improved attendance, lower tardiness, fewer kids sleeping in class, and better grades.

That all sounds great until you dig into the studies and discover that the improvements were generally marginal. In fact, a follow-up study in the Journal found that delaying start times 50–65 minutes only resulted in about 3 fewer tardies and 1 fewer absence. And the improved grades? They increased by about 0.07–0.17 GPA points over two years. Paltry.

Still, it’s something. And something is better than nothing, right?

Sure, but what’s even better is something meaningful. Something like improving overall school quality or classroom behavior, which generally have higher impacts on student outcomes than start times.

Practically, the difference between starting at 8:00 and 8:45 is modest, so strong pushback is unnecessary. As a night owl and grumpy morning person, I enthusiastically endorse it.

But 10:00 is a different story. Science offers little guidance because few schools have tried it. The research I just cited may suggest a “if two pills are slightly better than one, then fifteen must be terrific” solution, but the law of diminishing returns says that’s not how things work.

For one, such a drastic move would substantially stress other student support systems. How would kids manage studying, sports, family, extracurricular activities, and part-time jobs when school doesn’t dismiss until 5:00?

Plus, teens told they don’t have to wake up until 9:30 won’t automatically think, “Cool! An extra hour of sleep!” Many will think, “Cool! I can stay up an extra hour!”

And that’s the trouble with the start times debate. It often fails to consider the most important factor: human will.

If you isolate sleep norms in a lab, you might conclude that teens naturally wake later than current school systems allow. But schools are not sleep laboratories. They’re social institutions preparing students for adult systems that do not operate on adolescent chronotypes.

In reality, if students want 8 hours of sleep, they can get it, no matter when school starts. It just means adjusting their bedtime. Yes, that may be difficult, but people constantly have to make similar adjustments, and it’s better to learn it younger than to expect that the world’s going to adapt to your personal circadian biology.

Some good news is that if your child isn’t getting enough sleep, they can atone. A new study from the University of Oregon found that youths who caught up on missed weekday sleep on the weekends earned meaningful mental health benefits and showed a “significantly” lower risk of depression, making “sleep-in Saturdays” a sound parental policy.

So what’s reasonable? It seems we can scientifically say that very early adolescent start times (especially between 7:00-7:59) should be avoided, with 8:30-9:00 being favored. Anything later is speculative and could have serious drawbacks.

In the end, start times may simply be a scapegoat. The APA notes that, “Many factors are at play in youth getting too little sleep, including heavy homework loads, overscheduled extracurriculars, and the irresistible lure of social media.”

That means the problem is better solved by parents than by schools. Mom and Dad: Enforce a reasonable bedtime. Talk with teachers about kids who spend excessive amounts of time on homework because it’s not normal. Restrict screen use, particularly after dark. And stop overscheduling your children, including on weekends.

Do that, and we’ll all sleep easier.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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I saw a video where a teacher said there’s no difference anymore between special education and general education. Can you explain?

The teacher is describing a growing problem. The video references serving special education students through a process called “inclusion.” Students in this model generally have IEPs (Individualized Education Programs) related to learning, behavioral or other non-physical disabilities. Their IEPs mandate certain accommodations to help mitigate the impact of those disabilities. These can include time with a special education teacher, lesson modifications, extended time on assignments or tests or other classroom supports.

It used to be that these students would leave the general education setting for several minutes during the day to meet with their special education teacher. This was called the “pullout” model, because students were pulled away from their class to receive special services.

Inclusion is a “push-in” model. Instead of leaving the classroom, students remain in it, and the special education teacher comes to them. That teacher remains in the general class, helping the IEP students learn and aiding the lead teacher with accommodations.

This model can work well if there are only a few IEP students to assist. Remember, each such student has personalized needs and individualized accommodations. If all students are learning the same things at the same time, you can teach many students at once. If you have to teach them all differently, there’s a limit to what you can do in a class period — and a limit to how many students you can effectively support.

Teachers report that the sheer volume of IEPs in many classrooms is straining the limits of the inclusion model. Federal data confirms that while total school enrollment is shrinking, special education students have hit an all-time high of 8.2 million — a 12 percent jump in just five years.

That jump has outpaced the support provided by the federal government, whose stringent bureaucratic mandates govern IEPs, yet whose funding only covers about 12 percent of national special education costs. This means that effective special education instruction often requires more time, talent, resources — and teachers —than districts can provide.

The result is that “inclusion” in many classrooms has become something closer to “exclusion,” with the ratio of special education to general education students overwhelming the teachers tasked with managing it.

When that happens, it becomes almost inevitable to shift from teaching a general education class with a few exceptions to teaching a de facto special education class, slowing the pace and reducing the rigor for everyone, since you would have to do it for a large portion of the class anyway.

Look at it like this: Suppose you teach an eighth-grade reading class where 40 percent of the students are only reading at a third-grade level. Instead of creating separate assignments for that 40 percent, the temptation is to give third-grade-level work to everyone. It doesn’t sound right, and it isn’t. Teachers aren’t comfortable with it, but it is often a logistical necessity. The alternative is to teach multiple courses simultaneously or allow a huge portion of the class to fail.

You might think this benefits special education students. It doesn’t. One of the strongest influences on a student’s achievement is peers. In a class where most students are working hard, there is positive pressure to rise to the group’s level. But when most students are relying heavily on accommodations and teacher assistance to get by in classes already calibrated to be far less demanding, they lose motivation and independence. That dynamic works against what we should ultimately be trying to accomplish: helping students overcome their setbacks, not become captive to them.

The outcome can be even worse for general education students. When course rigor weakens, students are no longer challenged. If there’s no challenge, there’s no growth. And without growth, you don’t have an education. That’s one factor contributing to systems with 99 percent graduation rates and 10 percent reading and math proficiency.

So what needs to change? IEPs? Qualifications? Funding? More teachers? Laws?

Probably all of it. But a good start is to realize when an educational system is being overwhelmed rather than wait for its collapse.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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For several years now, many of you have followed my “Teacher to Parent” column and encouraged my writing, and I’m grateful for that support. Now I’m excited to share that I’ve published a new novel titled Three Nieces.

Inspired in part by my own three nieces, the story is set on Sullivan’s Island during the summer of 1967. It follows a grieving widower named Brandon Easton whose quiet summer at the family beach house changes when his three young adult nieces come to stay with him. Over the course of the summer, each of them faces challenges involving friendship, belonging, first love, family, and growing up.

Although the novel is fictional, many of the themes overlap with subjects I’ve often written about in “Teacher to Parent”: the importance of family, the influence adults have on young people, resilience through hardship, and the ways relationships shape who we become.

I’ve always loved stories that leave readers feeling nostalgic, hopeful, and reflective, and that’s the kind of story I hoped to create here. Sullivan’s Island itself also plays an important role in the novel, with its beaches, summer storms, local traditions, and slower pace of life in the 1960s.

If you’d like to learn more about the book or order a copy, you can visit the Three Nieces page on my website at JodyStallings.com.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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Los Angeles’ school board voted to restrict student screen time in classrooms and allow parents to opt out of digital tools. Should all districts do this?

This is a movement that’s gaining traction. At least 10 states have introduced bills similar to L.A.’s.

The problems started over a decade ago, when tech companies like Apple began hard-selling districts on the concept of 1:1 digital devices: one tablet or Chromebook for every student.

Lured by the promise of higher achievement, schools went all in, investing billions in money, time, and resources.

And the numbers rose. The numbers, of course, being the dollars taken in by tech companies. Classrooms are now one of the most strategically important markets in technology. Currently, education accounts for 60% of Chromebook use, helping drive a $14 billion global market.

The growth of 1:1 was a key reason I labeled students of the 2010s “Generation Guinea Pig.” High-risk ideas were tested en masse with little research and zero consideration for the long-term repercussions if things went badly.

Unfortunately, things went badly.

Screen proliferation’s toll on student mental health is well-reported, and 1:1 is a contributor. Less explored is the failure of digital tools to provide the academic gains 1:1 promised.

To wit: Classroom computer use significantly correlates with poorer student outcomes in math and science, according to TIMSS. A study published in the Economics of Education Review found that 1:1 did not improve math and language results. Maine, the first to take 1:1 statewide, showed no improvement in scores after 15 years of the policy. “If the goal is learning,” says Jared Cooney Horvath, a Harvard-trained neuroscientist and author of The Digital Delusion, “analog learning is better than digital learning in almost every situation.”

One big problem is that digital learning apps are often unreliable, ineffective, or misguided. I’ve witnessed a popular grammar-instruction app repeatedly teach students incorrect information. But since such apps are student-directed, teachers would never know. Many apps for younger students are simply dopamine-driven shlock.

Speaking of dopamine drivers, Chromebooks are loaded with them. Students are constantly watching videos or playing games of the non-educational variety. The distractions make classroom concentration a continual battle, supporting UNESCO’s stance that unregulated classroom technology actively interferes with student learning.

1:1 has made many teachers Chromebook-dependent. The devices have become their go-to for even the most basic lessons. When a lesson like “using semicolons” pops up in their standards, they assign a digital app to teach it, even though any good teacher could teach students everything they need in about fifteen minutes.

Districts are fine with that because they’ve swallowed the 1:1 legend that digital apps meet students where they are and carry them where they need to go, thus giving districts what they most desire: individualized instruction.

Sounds good. Doesn’t work. A glance at score trajectories will verify.

One thing 1:1 excels at is sedation. As districts pull away from high behavioral expectations, teachers reach for anything that can get them through a class without chaos, and Chromebooks qualify. When students are staring blankly at screens, calmness pervades. One colleague in a meeting about removing cellphones from her high school was shocked to hear teachers push back because phones “kept kids quiet.” Chromebooks do, too.

Unfortunately, 1:1 hasn’t merely failed to add anything of value; it has stolen treasured assets. Students are losing the ability to discuss complex ideas. They’re becoming incapable of engaging with quality analog instruction. They cannot read long or complex texts. Teacher-student relationships are suffering.

If education doesn’t stem the tide, parents should absolutely have the power to opt their kids out of the digital app invasion, and districts should follow their example.

And some, to their benefit, have. But darker days are ahead. Having drained districts dry with digital devices, Google and its competitors have come creeping back, maws open, with a new get-smart-quick scheme: Artificial Intelligence. Prepare for a spending spree on AI apps “guaranteed” to boost achievement.

Anyone who falls for it again will have earned their bust in the Generation Guinea Pig Hall of Shame.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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My son’s second-year teacher isn’t returning next year. She says she’s exhausted and beat down by poor discipline. She says admin doesn’t support the teachers. Why not?

In the comedy Animal House, Dean Vernon Wormer finally shuts down Delta House’s alcohol-fueled toga parties to protect his school’s reputation and culture. In retaliation, one Delta member rallies his brothers with a call to arms: “This situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture.”

Most people want to be the good guy. We want to be protectors, liberators, and peacekeepers. But in modern education, we’ve redefined what that means.

Behavioral consequences are now associated with villains like Dean Wormer. In backlash, principals have decided they prefer to be Delta House: fun-loving and easygoing. Trade booze for candy, toga parties for pizza parties, and fraternal brotherhood for buddy-buddy-backslapping, and that’s exactly what many principals have become.

This is truly a futile and stupid gesture.

In the real world, the Deltas aren’t the good guys. They’re lechers, vandals, cheaters, crooks, and drunkards. On film, they’re the life of the party. In reality, they would be the plague of the campus.

That’s why Dean Wormer says, “The time has come for someone to put his foot down. And that foot is me.”

The dean isn’t fun. And the fraternities abiding by his rules look stuffy and unappealing. Such media portrayals have morphed into stereotypes, which, along with misguided trends toward restorative practices, have led many principals to spurn being the foot.

But every classroom needs a foot. Kids are impulsive and test boundaries. Positive encouragement goes a long way with small children, but eventually they tire of rewards. And there are always students who don’t care about them anyway.

Left uncorrected, these students can derail their classmates’ educations and poison an entire school’s culture. That’s why so many teachers won’t teach in certain schools.

In the past, there was a structure. Teachers taught, students learned, and principals were the foot. Teachers praised, rewarded, and built warm relationships. They were the good guys. If students got out of line, a glare usually brought them back. If not, “Do you want to go to the principal’s office?” usually would.

The principal, you see, was the bad guy. He was the foot. He held the power of the paddle, the detention, or the phone call home. No student wanted to see him.

Then Dean Wormer fell out of fashion, and the foot moved to the other shoe.

Now principals direct teachers to issue their own detentions, make their own calls, and manage their own animal houses. When a teacher reaches the breaking point and sends a student to the office, the principal often downplays it, jokes with the student, commiserates about strict teachers, and plies him with snacks. They often question why the teacher would get so riled up over typical kid behavior and suggest developing “more positive relationships.”

Maybe teachers could, if principals would do their jobs. But it’s harder to be both minister and scourge than it might look from the point of view of a quiet office.

To be sure, many principals take discipline seriously. They shoulder responsibility and protect the culture their teachers and students need. But in too many schools, that’s not the way.

Discipline problems would fall and academic achievement would rise if principals would serve as the bad guys and liberate teachers to be the good guys.

Students must have someone whose authority they respect and whose consequences they fear. The principal’s office shouldn’t be a snack hub. It should be a place kids want to avoid. A school needs Jekyll in the classroom and Hyde down the hall. One teacher cannot effectively be both.

Schools must get back to basics. Principals should be calling parents, issuing consequences, and protecting the greater good. Because when they become pushovers for bullies and troublemakers, peaceful students and teachers become the victims.

As it stands, they want teachers to be both Delta House and Dean Wormer, issuers of punishment and instruments of praise. They want teachers to be the bad guys.

This, indeed, is a really futile and stupid gesture.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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The teachers say my less than four-year-old son is having trouble in preschool with moving from one task to the next. They have to tell him a few times before he does it, but he always does it. I think they’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Isn’t this age-appropriate behavior? My friends are saying I should pull him from the school.

No offense to your friends, but that would be a gross overreaction. The teachers are simply telling you there’s a problem with your child. Leaving the school won’t solve it. If the mechanic says your car needs a new starter, you might search around for a cheaper fix, but a fix you will need to find.

And a fix is what you are in.

Let’s start here: You suggest this problem isn’t a big deal because he’s not even four years old. But what would you think is a big deal for a child that age? Being able to transition with minimal friction seems like a developmentally appropriate expectation.

Since this age is outside my area of expertise, I consulted actual preschool teachers. Their verdict was that when preschool teachers raise a concern, it’s almost always more significant than how they present it to parents to avoid panicking them.

This is generally true of all teachers. If they take the time to report a concern to you—rolling the dice that you’ll not turn it back on them—the problem is substantial.

A rule of thumb among doctors is that however many drinks a patient tells you they have in a week, double it. I can modify that for teachers and parents: if a teacher tells you a student’s behavior is a problem, double the size of that problem. “Talks in class” means “Never shuts up.” “Having trouble with transitions” could very well mean “Has meltdowns.”

In preschool, this tendency is undoubtedly magnified because virtually every three-and-a-half-year-old has some kind of behavioral challenge. The teachers, however, are trained to improve them. If they’re taking the time to inform you, you can generally trust it’s an atypical problem. And they’re not trying to annoy you. They’re asking for your help.

Thus, a healthy response in this situation would be to help the child. You are his parent. He is ultimately your responsi­bility. If you transfer him to a new school, the problem will surely follow him.

In fact, I manage middle school students who deal poorly with transitions. When that problem follows them into adulthood, they may one day lose a job by ignoring the responsibilities they don’t like and only focusing on those they do. Here are some ways you can help avoid that potential future:

1. Manage transitions at home. Make clear, simple rules with clear, simple consequences. For example, “If I have to tell you twice, I’m taking your favorite toy.” Making it more uncomfortable for him to do it the wrong way than the right way is crucial.

2. Don’t be defensive; be inquisitive. Rather than brushing off the teachers as overreactive, utilize their expertise. Ask them what advice they have for changing the child’s habits and follow through. Ask them how his behavior contrasts with classmates and why they think your son is different.

3. Work together. Work with your spouse to develop a plan. Work with the teacher to track your child’s weekly progress. Work with the child by praising his improvement.

Perhaps the true spirit of your question is, “Look, the kid isn’t beating up his classmates or cursing out teachers (some do), so in the grand scheme, this is a small problem.” If so, you are absolutely correct.

So look at the bright side: small problems generally require small solutions. With a good plan, a united front, and persistence, you can have this problem licked in just a few weeks with a lifetime of positive repercussions. That’s an excellent return on a small investment.

On the other hand, choosing to withdraw, turn a blind eye, or shift blame can turn a small deficiency into a lifelong flaw.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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Does Red Ribbon Week still exist? What about D.A.R.E.? I ask because my high school son says a lot of classmates are having problems with drugs. What are schools doing about it?

It depends on the school, but overall, schools are doing a lot less than they used to.

Red Ribbon Week is a national drug-prevention awareness campaign. Many schools still acknowledge it every October. But it’s probably not how you remember it. It’s become more routine and less emphasized, with some schools treating it as just another themed week. Also, the messaging has shifted from drugs toward broader mental health topics.

D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) is still around, barely, but has reinvented itself. The modern version is called “Keepin’ it REAL” and focuses more on decision-making, peer pressure, and emotional regulation.

Drug education and deterrence have taken a subservient role to Social-Emotional Learning, which, in general, doesn’t have a lot to say to students about drugs.

So you are right to question what schools are doing, and your child is accurate that a lot of kids are having problems. Meanwhile, states continue to make it easier for students to acquire dangerous, addictive drugs like today’s high-potency cannabis.

And that’s where much of the problem lies: in the gap between what schools are doing about drugs and what drugs are doing to students.

So instead of more statistics, let me tell you about three students I’ve personally known who were recently affected by drugs, all from high-achieving schools. Their stories aren’t isolated cases. They exemplify many students who begin using drugs in school and find themselves quickly over their heads. Their names and personal details have been changed.

Alice found THC during the hours of unstructured free time provided by her high school. Friends offered her cannabis-infused candy, which caused a violent physical reaction. But the allure of the drug overshadowed the reaction, and she returned to it.

Things reached a boiling point her freshman year of college. Away from the structure of family, the full-time freedom of college permitted her unrestricted indulgence. As a result, she failed her courses and lost her scholarships. Thankfully, this proved to be a wake-up call. She cleaned up, turned things around, and is on track to graduate.

Brooke was an outlier in an otherwise dysfunctional family. She was smart, energetic, and determined.

In high school, someone introduced her to cannabis for vaping. She quickly became addicted. It was heartbreaking to see this bright, funny, faithful girl become a veritable zombie — constantly high, succumbing to doubt and depression, and failing all her courses. Progress has come in stops and starts, and Brooke’s story is still being written.

Camille rose from sad circumstances to find herself in a loving surrogate family. She was strong and ambitious, graduating early to begin her career.

The drug I believe she always wanted was love. But she found it in the person of someone who introduced her to drugs of a far different kind.

Over the breathless span of less than a year, drug addiction led her to an unsustainable lifestyle. She was soon jobless, homeless, and committing illegal acts.

Addiction is such that the behavior we use to survive it is the same behavior that ends up killing us, one way or another. By the end of the year, she had taken her own life. She was still a teenager.

I often tell my students that you can’t take drugs without them taking something from you. At best, they will merely sap away your personality, dull your ambitions, and vie for your identity. At worst, they will take everything.

Parents and schools should do whatever it takes to discourage drug use. This includes stronger deterrence programs, more restrictive laws, and serious discussions about the value of living a drug-free life. Without a united front, we send our students onto a deadly battlefield without armor, without weapons, and without purpose.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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My son is angry because once per quarter, kids who have no discipline issues get to wear flip-flops, which is usually against the rules. This time he missed it because he was late to school, which was actually my fault. This also happened in elementary school where perfect attendance kids got to jump to the head of the line in the lunchroom for a week, and he missed it because of a wedding. I’m okay with him missing out because he technically broke the rules, but I wonder about the rewards. They’re obviously working, but is it right to reward kids with being able to break the rules?

“The Purge” is a 2013 dystopian thriller set in a near-future where, once a year for 12 hours, all crime is legal, including murder.

The reason is to allow people to “purge” violent tendencies so that crime stays low the rest of the year. It’s for the public’s own good, you see.

Many schools have their own mini-versions of “The Purge” through scenarios like those you outline, where, at certain times and for certain reasons, the rules are suspended to accomplish a greater good. In your son’s recent case, it’s to encourage kids not to break the school rules, which, in my English class, we would call “irony.”

There are plenty of other rules and reasons. You might have kids sitting outside the seating chart or being allowed to cut certain classes as a reward for making the honor roll or donating to a charity. Sometimes it’s even because the student’s parents donate to the school.

In general, it’s a bad idea to give some kids the right to break a rule. Rules should exist because they help kids learn or be safe, and if they do either, there shouldn’t be exceptions.

Why have a rule against cutting in line? Because it’s rude, selfish and disrespectful to push your way first, right? Is there ever a case where it isn’t rude, selfish and disrespectful to cut others? I can’t think of one, except maybe in an emergency.

Thus, by allowing a child the privilege to break the rule, you’re not — as you might superficially think — rewarding him by allowing him to go first. You’re showing him that sometimes it’s okay to be rude, selfish and disrespectful.

If you think that’s not good for the rewarded student, imagine how the other kids feel when they get cut. Many will say it’s unfair because the rules should apply to everyone, not just the privileged few. If it happens enough, the climate at that school can become toxic.

That’s because kids will tolerate a lot: high demands, rigorous grading, strict rule adherence — but the one thing they will not abide is unfairness. Schools depend on fairness to build students’ trust in the process of education, and even small exceptions erode that trust.

Imagine if certain drivers were exempt from speed limits on certain days. Whether you were one of the privileged few or not, at some point, you’d wonder about the fairness of the speed limit law in its entirety. Aren’t speed limits about safety? If it’s okay for some to drive unsafely, why isn’t it okay for all of us? That thought hits especially hard when you’re one of the saps having to drive 55 while others fly by at 90.

Isn’t the thinking behind disallowing flip-flops that they’re too casual for structured learning and potentially unsafe in an emergency? So if neither of those applies to Johnny, why do they apply to me? Or, better, why do they apply to any of us?

Rewards for certain behaviors can be helpful, but the best rewards work within the rules. Think certificates or pizza parties.

Without spoilers, let’s just say that in “The Purge,” being allowed to break the rules does not have the positive impact on society that was intended.

Now, is it fair to compare flip-flop day with a horrific event of mayhem and mass murder? Maybe not, but I’m writing this on my birthday, so the rules don’t apply to me.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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I attended my kindergartener’s mini gymnastics meet with low expectations (they’re five), but what I witnessed was eye-opening. Most kids were out of control, ignoring their coaches. The volunteers were frazzled, trying hard to maintain order without raising their voices. They kept looking to parents for backup but got none. Most parents were on their phones, paying no attention. A couple of us pulled our kids aside and disciplined them, hoping to set an example. It didn’t take. I felt sorry for those coaches. And I couldn’t help thinking this is what teachers face every day. Where is this headed? How do we fix it?

Today’s writer shares an alarming snapshot of exhausted teachers, wild children, and oblivious parents. One cringes to consider what we’ll see if we fast-forward 20 years.

Parents, that future is in your hands, but the only control you have over it is in the present.

“The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.” Just as a tree grows in the direction it’s shaped when young, the character instilled in children becomes the character they carry into adulthood. If we’re pleased with how adults behave, remember it all started as babes in bassinets. If not, we know why.

You are responsible for your child’s behavior. Your influence must be strong enough to affect their actions even when they are away from you or in someone else’s care.

Thus, if children in a gym behave wildly for their coaches while you’re in the same room, it’s your obligation to change the young tree’s direction. That doesn’t mean being overly punitive, but it does mean making it more uncomfortable for the child to follow bad impulses than to follow good instructions.

It might even mean pulling them off the gym floor to get them back in line, as the writer did. The fastest way to grow an impulsive, selfish adult is to allow them to roam as free-range, impulsive children.

You and your spouse need a plan to ensure your child doesn’t grow that way, and that plan doesn’t pause just because you’re at a sporting event. If you don’t discipline your children when they’re right under your nose, they’ll never behave properly when you’re not in sight.

When that happens, you’re responsible for their instructors getting burned out. Teachers and coaches cannot continually exhaust themselves trying to correct children whose parents do not support the correction. Those gymnastic coaches will not stay volunteers for long under that dynamic.

Of course, kids need freedom to grow. But if they witness you turning a blind eye to their misbehavior, they will interpret it as encouragement. It can even inspire more bad behavior as the child tries to earn your attention.

Presumably, you go to gymnastic meets to show you care about your child and their interests. But going and paying no attention is worse than not going at all because the child actually sees that his interests are losing to your own.

And often those interests amount to whatever is on your phone. The smartphone’s addictive qualities have ensnared adults as well as kids, so that children now have to compete with their parents’ phones for attention.

Do you realize that by the time your children graduate high school, you’ll have exhausted 90% of all the time you’ll ever spend with them? Why waste a single moment of it on Instagram?

Consider doing what many students must do: hide the phone the minute you walk through the door, and don’t pick it up until your kids are in bed. You will make the most of your time with them, be less anxious, and set a good example. On graduation day, you will be grateful that you did.

We’ve arrived at a turning point. It’s time to get back to basics: Discipline your children, support their teachers and coaches, and invest in them your time and attention. Your hand influences the whole world. The image of an out-of-control gymnastics meet should become a thing of the past, not an omen for the future.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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What’s the deal with SEL (Social Emotional Learning) programs? They started a course at my son’s school to help with “emotional regulation” (what’s that?). My son and his friends say it’s corny.

SEL programs try to teach kids to manage their emotions and interactions so they can learn, behave, and relate to others more effectively. This includes help with “emotional regulation,” which is jargon for managing their feelings, like calming themselves when they’re upset. SEL also aims to reduce anxiety, depression, loneliness, and bullying. Programs claim to strengthen mental health, improve academic achievement, and cure baldness. (Just kidding about that last one.)

There are two kinds: embedded programs, which integrate lessons into ordinary instruction, and standalones, which are taught as one-off class periods or during homeroom.

“Corny” accurately describes the forced and artificial vibe many students get from canned programs. Videos and other materials are often inartfully produced. Think of watching one of those old ABC Afterschool Specials, then “rapping” about it with your teacher using a scripted discussion guide and you’ll have the idea.

Unfortunately for SEL, students are good at sensing when something is scripted or patronizing and will scornfully reject it. Particularly in standalones, students often say the language is childish, the lessons dwell on things they already know, and the activities are disconnected from their real problems. For these reasons, researchers generally tab standalones as the weakest SEL model.

SEL isn’t new, but it became a full-fledged educational trend circa 2020 as a way to tackle increasing mental health concerns and manage rising school discipline problems without issuing punishment.

Whenever I say “educational trend,” think, “$$$.” Sources including eSchool News indicate that American schools spend over $1 billion annually on SEL, a staggering sum putting it on equal financial footing with math and reading programs and dwarfing library books ($750 million), vocabulary instruction ($200 million), science lab materials ($500 million), and math intervention tools ($300 million).

That doesn’t even include the hidden cost. SEL programs drop a lot onto teachers’ already teeming plates. Transforming Education calculates that teachers spend about 4.3 hours weekly on SEL programs. Convert that to salary costs and the annual total balloons to over $45 billion.

Given the investment, one would hope SEL would be crushing the mental health problem. Varying studies, however, show the long-term impact somewhere between modest and negligible. Why?

For one, teachers aren’t therapists. They’re trained to educate kids in academics, not psychology. Also, SEL generally ignores two of mental health’s biggest disrupters: phones and drugs.

A 2026 study in JAMA Health Forum shows teens using cannabis have a 34 percent higher risk of depression, 24 percent higher risk of anxiety disorders and — hold on to your hats — 119 percent higher risk of psychotic disorders.

The data on social media is equally discouraging. A study in Pediatrics found that 12-year-olds with smartphones face a 31 percent higher risk of depression, while a UC San Francisco study of 12,000 kids found their depressive symptoms rose as their social media use climbed.

Despite these facts, SEL programs often have little to say about either problem.

Nevertheless, the need for help is undeniable. Groups including the CDC and NIMH report that 40 percent of teens feel persistently sad, one in five face major depression, and about 20 percent consider suicide.

But do schools have the answer? NAEP data shows that reading has declined since 2015, no state has improved, 40 percent of 4th graders read below basic, and by 12th grade, only 35 percent are proficient in reading and 22 percent in math. Those numbers are even more alarming because schools are specifically designed to prevent them.

Re-focusing on academics could help the problems SEL seeks to address. A quality education acts as a powerful social vaccine. By improving students’ cognitive skills and standard of living, it helps foster stronger mental health foundations.

But we’re not getting that done. If schools aren’t accomplishing the very reason for their existence, how can we expect them to solve deep-rooted sociological problems?

Perhaps our best strategy would be to stop the mission creep and go back to basics.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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A great teacher at my child’s school said she isn’t coming back next year, though she’s taught there for over 15 years, because their new principal “was pushing out the veteran teachers for young, inexperienced teachers.” Can a principal fire veteran teachers, and why would they?

An unfortunate perception among experienced teachers is that, for a certain swath of principals, the more experience you have, the less valuable you are.

That perception is rooted in reality. An analysis by Education Next found that principals were 33 percent more likely to dismiss teachers aged 36-50 than teachers aged 22-28, a stunning difference. A few years ago, veteran Atlanta teachers sued their district, claiming they were being pushed out in favor of younger teachers more aligned with the new administration’s agenda. Experienced teachers will tell you that sort of thing happens a lot.

Why would some principals prefer younger teachers to seasoned veterans? There are several spurious reasons:

The rationale: Veterans aren’t up on the latest methods.

The truth: Veterans once were the new teachers up on the latest methods. Those methods gave way to newer ones, making the “latest” methods obsolete. The lesson is that in education, today’s treasure is tomorrow’s trash, making it unwise to base staffing decisions on such fleeting attributes

The rationale: Veteran teachers are stuck in their ways.

The truth: Sticking with winning methods is called wisdom, not rigidity. Besides, veteran teachers are generally open to anything that truly improves their craft.

The rationale: Veterans push back on new initiatives.

The truth: Often true — because most new initiatives are old, failed initiatives in new packaging. Their pushback can sharpen an untested strategy or save a school from repeating costly mistakes.

The rationale: Young teachers relate better to today’s students.

The truth: Relating is a fraction of what educating children requires. Teaching ability, high expectations, effective discipline, and earned respect matter far more, and experienced teachers are more likely to deliver them.

Can principals summarily fire veteran teachers? No, but they can apply pressure that pushes them out, like reassigning them outside their expertise, loading their rosters with difficult students, moving their classrooms, and suddenly flunking them on evaluations despite years of strong performance.

That’s a grave error, because the stereotype of veterans as stubborn and outmoded is simply wrong. A landmark study by Matthew Kraft and John Papay showed that teachers improve steadily for at least 15-20 years, growing especially effective with struggling students and classroom management. A Harvard Graduate School of Education study found that teachers with 10 or more years of experience produced higher student achievement gains than newer teachers — and that their students were more likely to succeed in later courses. Experienced teachers don’t just help students right now; they improve their long-range trajectories.

Pushing them out can cause real institutional damage. A study in the American Educational Research Journal found that schools losing several veteran teachers at once often see student achievement drop for years, harming entire grade levels, not just individual courses.

That’s because veteran teachers carry irreplaceable knowledge. They understand the school culture, usually better than administrators who arrive from outside schools. They know which discipline strategies work with specific student populations, how families in the community tend to respond, and which initiatives have already been tried and failed. They mentor newer teachers in ways no training program can replicate.

Ask any veteran teacher and not one will say they were better their first three years than they are now. In my first years, I was a walking stereotype: young, relatable, and enthusiastic. But my instructional abilities were poor, and I made mistakes constantly. Experience brought what it brings nearly every teacher: better judgment, stronger instincts, and healthier student relationships built on mutual respect rather than age proximity. And who helped me improve the most? Experienced colleagues.

Does that mean principals should avoid new teachers entirely? Not at all. The most effective principals know there is strength in diversity. Young teachers bring fresh methods and energy; veterans help them grow. Veterans bring quality and wisdom; young teachers keep them sharp.

Youth and experience together create success. Principals who forget that shortchange everyone — especially your child.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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My daughter’s teacher is overreacting to a small problem. She sometimes forgets to charge her tablet overnight. This makes her teacher furious, and my daughter gets detention. Her other teachers don’t care as much. I don’t need advice on how to teach my child to charge her own device, and I don’t need parenting advice. I just would love an acknowledgement that sometimes teachers overreact to small things.

Acknowledged. And your question demonstrates that parents do, as well.

In fact, we all do. I’ve met very few people lacking “pet peeves.” Chances are something gets under your skin: Messing up the hand towels in the bathroom. Leaving shopping carts in the parking lot. Holding up traffic with a golf cart.

Teachers have them, too: Being tardy. Forgetting a pencil. Sleeping. I have two: gum and spiral notebook paper. Gum is unprofessional and gets under the desks. And the little white edges on spiral paper end up on the floor, tainting my beautiful blue carpet. Pet peeves are human nature. And teachers are, you know … human.

Other teachers hardly care about the things that drive me crazy, but just because Mrs. Smith shrugs at gum doesn’t mean Mr. Stallings is irrational for disliking it. In this case, the teacher’s annoyed for good reason. When a student’s device isn’t charged, it stops class. The teacher has to find a charger, rearrange seating, and troubleshoot. Multiply that by several students, and valuable instruction time quickly evaporates.

That highlights a big difference between teachers’ pet peeves and most people’s: numbers. If the teacher’s annoyed by uncharged tablets, she has to manage it from multiple kids every day. That magnifies how much it gets under her skin. If a daily splotch of bird poop on your car annoys you, imagine a dozen.

You call it a “small thing.” Well, yes, if a student does it once or twice, it’s small. But when it happens continually, it grows from a minor mistake to major disrespect for the teacher.

I start the year telling kids that gum is a pet peeve, so please, please, refrain. Most kids comply. They like their teachers. They want to please them.

Then someone chews. I’ll make them spit it out and remind them why I dislike it. Then they do it again. This time, I issue a consequence; surely that will make an impression. Not always. Some kids are unbothered by the penalty and keep on chomping. Worse, they’re also unbothered by the fact that it’s rude to me. If you’re a teacher with feelings, that can hurt them.

“Don’t take it personally,” teachers are told when a kid repeatedly misbehaves. But at a certain point, it’s hard not to. Imagine your spouse knows how much you hate him answering texts during dinner. If he continues to do it, don’t you take that personally? Surely it’s just a forgetful act of self-indulgence — but it’s human to perceive it as a thumb in your eye.

The dynamic between students and teachers isn’t exactly like that, but there are similarities. The most important one is affection. Teachers care about their students. That’s why they work hard to craft good lessons, make their classrooms warm and inviting, and take work home. It’s why they tear up on the last day of school.

And no teacher asks for that same affection to be reciprocated. They understand their place in a child’s life. They don’t expect to be treated with the same devotion a child would give his parents. All they ask is a little respect: Be polite. Pay attention. Do your work. Follow the rules.

If only being in a family were so easy.

Per your request, I shall offer you no advice, but I will submit this truth to anyone else who may be reading: a small thing to you might be a big thing to a teacher, and a little respect for her feelings will go a long way for everyone.

Chargers, gum, and tardies are indeed tiny inconveniences … but the human quality of respect is great indeed.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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My middle school son has some classes with over 30 students. How can anyone really teach with 30 teenagers in one tiny room?

Grappling with large class sizes is a challenge that has deeply worsened. In a recent survey of teachers by the Charleston Teacher Alliance, 86 percent said that it has become more difficult to manage large class sizes since 2020 due to changed student behavior. The fact is, kids in general — for a variety of reasons — are becoming more unmanageable. Increase their numbers, and the problem intensifies.

Even if this weren’t the case, teachers would still struggle with too many kids in a class. Just imagine you have six kids, and you take them on vacation. Suppose on one rainy day, you have to stay inside the hotel room, keeping all six occupied with learning activities.

Now add 10 more kids.

You now have some small inkling of how large numbers of kids in a confined space is hardly advantageous to either their education or your sanity. Granted, teachers are trained to manage the larger numbers, but kids are still kids, and teachers are still human, and even the most well-trained teachers often struggle to provide worthwhile individual instruction to 30 restless youngsters who do not care for lessons.

A big reason for that is kids learn through experience, and large numbers make that difficult.

My father knew seemingly everything about woodworking and gardening. That was odd because, though he was a very intelligent man, he never went to college. True, middle and high schools did offer courses in shop and agriculture back then, but even in those classes, he couldn’t have learned everything he ended up knowing about those subjects.

The fact is, my father learned by doing. He was given a foundation in both subjects from family and school, but he developed that knowledge through woodworking and gardening.

Kids learn the same way. Want to learn about fishing? Go fishing. Want to learn auto mechanics? You have to crack open a hood.

Math, reading, and science follow much the same template.

Why is that relevant? Because the more kids you pack into a classroom, the less kids can do.

Walk by a college lecture hall, and you might see one tiny instructor and 100 students, listening and taking notes. Walk by a chemistry lab, however, and you’ll see a fraction of that number performing experiments. There’s no class size limit on listening if the students are well-behaved, but there’s only so many kids you can have doing things if you want them to learn that way.

I know a science teacher who laments how hard it is in today’s schools to continue doing science labs. The lab tables are only so big, and there are only so many. You can only cram so many kids around one experiment. And you can’t squeeze 30 kids in a science room without a lot of non-science going on. Yet some of her classes have 35 students.

Many science teachers have stopped doing labs altogether because their class sizes won’t allow it. And in a class like science, if kids don’t “do,” they don’t learn. The same is true of several other courses, including K to 5 learning in general.

In that CTA survey I mentioned, teachers said that optimal class sizes are 20 to 22 students for general education and 16 to 18 in early grades or high-need schools. Those numbers are very reasonable. But the survey also revealed that about 40 percent of educators are teaching classes between 26 to 35 students, much larger than what they consider conducive to effective instruction.

That’s not a good recipe for teaching our children what they need to learn. And it’s not helpful for keeping good teachers in the classroom where we need them; burnout comes far too quickly.

It’s time for states and districts to revise outdated expectations. It isn’t 2019 anymore. It certainly isn’t 1980. It’s 2026, and if providing kids with more individual human instruction is not the way forward, then teachers will continue searching for the nearest way out.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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The state is voting whether to eliminate minimum grades (where schools mandate quarterly grades no lower than 50 or 55, even if a student has earned all zeroes, so students always have a mathematical possibility of passing). I know you’re against minimum grades, but how do they affect ordinary kids like my son, who passes on his own?

Let’s start here: Any injustice in education weakens its foundations. Minimum grades are unjust because they give kids credit for things they didn’t do. They get near-passing grades for papers they didn’t write, math they never learned, and books they didn’t read.

Your child doesn’t get that privilege. If he fails to do 30 percent of the math problems, he gets a 70. Period.

Let’s say you work at Burger Shack for $20 an hour. At 40 hours a week, you earn $800. Your friend stays home and plays video games. He works zero hours and earns … $400 dollars? Is that just?

By setting the minimum grade so close to passing (usually just 5-10 points away), it means kids can do nothing all year and still get put on a conveyor belt to the next grade with the barest possible effort. Thus, they don’t learn anything substantive. You can’t sleep for 160 days, wake up for 20, and think that you’ve acquired anything close to a real education.

One thing they do learn, however, is this: They can do nothing all year and still get put on a conveyor belt to the next grade with the barest possible effort.

When kids are shuttled on like this — lazy and skillless — they quickly become victims of the system’s deadliest flaw: learned helplessness. Their indolence can then spread to peers, maybe even your child. That’s why the number of kids who are given minimum grades increases from one grade to the next.

This academic fraud affects your child by helping turn his hard-earned diploma into a joke. Data shows that in the era of minimum grades, graduation rates are climbing — with many states reporting record or near-record numbers — even as standardized scores and literacy outcomes are in decline. Over time, this cripples the value of the credential.

When my father graduated high school, before minimum grades (and their accomplices, credit recovery and test retakes), his diploma meant something. It unlocked doors, enabling him to feed a family, buy a home, and eventually retire.

Try that today, and it won’t be so automatic. That’s why students now see college degrees the way previous generations saw high school diplomas. Yet a modern college education can bring your son nearly as many debits as assets, with most student loan recipients carrying roughly $40,000 in debt — a reality augmented by the growing number of high school graduates pursuing degrees.

As more students expect a safety net regardless of performance, they clog classes with apathy. When that happens, teachers feel pressure to lower expectations to avoid failing half the class, especially in middle and high school, where the policy’s effects accumulate. That’s how your child becomes a casualty of a substandard education.

But it’s not just education’s innocent bystanders who may benefit from reversing the policy. The policy’s consumers will, too, because they might be inspired to learn valuable life lessons like how hard it is to dig yourself out of a hole. And when effort and results are connected, those students might no longer be drugged into leth­argy but jolted into action by the icy waters of reality. Let’s call that “learned responsibility.”

Two pieces of advice for legislators: First, construct the ban carefully. Districts have already begun shifting minimums from report cards to individual assignments and exams, preserving the policy at a lower level.

Second, leave room for teacher discretion. There are legitimate circumstances (illness, death, divorce, for example) when flexibility is warranted. Teachers, not administrators, are best positioned to weigh those cases thoughtfully.

In the end, all students benefit when we adhere to a simple tenet of fundamental fairness: whatever you get, earn it.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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I’m thinking about removing my son from his school. The school system doesn’t know how to handle gifted children. He’s highly intelligent, but bored, so his grades don’t reflect his abilities. He’s a great critical thinker and teachers get annoyed when he questions their outdated practices. He’s a great kid, but some teachers have put a target on him so he can’t do anything right. Should I pull him out or try to work with them?

I’m not saying you’re there, but you may be getting dangerously close to the trap of blaming a child’s flaws on those trying to help him. You’re certainly close enough to be wary.

Consider how unlikely it is that a child is so gifted, talented, intelligent, and mature, yet his grades are bad, and people don’t like him. Such accomplished children rarely produce such negative results.

So either your school is indeed a rat’s nest of incompetence, or your child’s qualities aren’t as airtight as you may perceive.

That’s not to say things are black and white. You’re right that the system struggles to educate gifted children; it struggles to educate everybody. It’s a flawed system, but it will still work for your child if you hold him accountable and support those striving to teach him. So let’s dig deeper into that side of the equation, starting with why you (or any parent) may be misjudging your child’s elite traits.

For one, the near-perfect child is a parental myth. Children are humans, and humans universally have flaws. That doesn’t mean some kids aren’t close, but they’re the exceptions — and they never, in my experience, produce the outcomes you’ve described.

The only reason a teacher might target them would be as an example for other kids to follow. That’s because the best kids treat others with the utmost respect. They obey the rules, offer to help, and show gratitude. They would never openly criticize a teacher.

Truly good kids also don’t underachieve. I’m not suggesting they don’t get B’s, C’s, and sometimes D’s. They do — because being a good person and being an A student aren’t tightly linked. Intelligence is a trait that’s neither good nor bad, like being fast or tall. It might be advantageous, but it’s not morally superior.

The best students achieve according to their abilities and work ethic. They work hard, regardless of the grade. Any teacher would rather have a child who struggles to learn, but is motivated to improve versus one who has all the intelligence in the world and blithely lets it go to waste because, in his view, the teacher’s lessons are “boring” or “outdated.”

In truth, all the traits you mention positively are neither positive nor negative. They’re just traits that people value, like gold — but, also like gold, they’re not a measure of the child’s character. That emerges when we see what the child does with his gold. How does he invest and spend it?

A child’s critical thinking skills are for naught if he’s squandering them on criticizing his teachers. His intelligence is useless if he isn’t investing it in his education. And his personality is no asset at all if the people who’ve selflessly dedicated their lives to helping others can’t stand him.

No child is flawless. They’re all capable at least sometimes of stretching the truth, being lazy, or acting selfishly. If you find yourself constantly defending their rectitude while condemning everyone else, consider it a red flag. A good quarterback doesn’t blame his cheerleaders.

Therefore, to paraphrase a famous educator, it would be better to try to address the log in your child’s eye than to tweeze out the splinters in others’.

So should you pull him out or try to work with his teachers? Maybe the answer is neither. Try keeping him there and working with him. Help him change his negative outcomes. Don’t search for a world that matches his skill set. Change him so he can bloom no matter where he’s planted.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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My 12-year-old has shouted “I hate you” so many times that I’m starting to feel like it’s true. Each time we enforce discipline, she says she doesn’t love us and that we’ve taken everything away from her. However, we’ve been consistently loving to her all her life. What can help?

As a parent, it’s difficult to imagine much worse than having your child say she hates you, so you have my sympathy. Sadly, I’m hearing it’s happening a lot more often.

That’s ironic in an age when parents are giving their children more than ever—and when “gentle parenting” has granted them unprecedented levels of power and impunity.

Or maybe it isn’t ironic at all. Since gentle parents seem to be most victimized by their children’s harsh insults, it may reveal an inverse relationship between indulging children and being loved by them in a natural, healthy way. When parents give kids whatever makes them happy, all parents receive in return is increased expectation. Fail to meet their demands, and the result can be explosive. If that describes your home, the remedy should be apparent—it’s time to change course.

But if it doesn’t describe your family—if you do set boundaries, limit consumption, act consistently, and parent with reasonable authority—then there’s a lot more to consider about those three hurtful words.

First, take heart that she probably doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t say it when you tuck her into bed. She says it in response to discipline. Children are impulsive and emotional. When you take away something they’ve grown attached to—and possibly addicted to, like a phone or video game—they can blow up in ways that feel like true hate to whoever’s standing in their way. But when the emotional storm passes, you’ll usually find them calm and regretful. That’s when you can talk with them about love, frustration, and the right way to manage disappointment.

You can build a foundation for such discussions by establishing clear family expectations. When my children were little, we had one family rule: don’t do anything that shows we don’t love each other. Saying “I hate you” would be a clear violation. It’s deeply disrespectful and should be addressed with disciplineship—conversation plus consequences.

“I hate you” could be manipulation, an attempt to get you to reverse course by provoking guilt. She knows it hurts you, and she may think you’ll be tempted to avoid the pain by giving in.

Many bad traits, like vindictiveness, come naturally, so it could also be her emotions telling her that if you’ve hurt her, she should hurt you back—an eye for an eye, so to speak. Thus, hard as it is, don’t take it personally. This isn’t about you; it’s about her struggling to cope with disappointment using one of childhood’s least attractive defense mechanisms: the tantrum.

Tantrums, spitefulness, and manipulation can all take root and grow into truly awful adult traits. So don’t get sidetracked by the shock and pain of the words. Rather, look past their sting and address the flaws beneath them. That means reminding yourself, often, that your response can’t be about your feelings; it has to be about your child’s character. A thoughtful conversation with your spouse about how to respond consistently is essential to that process.

It also means not taking the bait. Avoid anger, tears, and debate in the moment. Any strong reaction will only reinforce her vicious behavior. Send her to her room, let her cool off privately, and when the storm subsides, have the discussion.

Finally, don’t fall into the trap of trying to earn her love. True love can’t be cultivated with bribery, flattery, or indulgence—especially not in children.

Instead, focus on being a good parent: praise when it’s warranted, discipline when necessary, offer affection freely, and do what is right. Accomplish that, and your daughter will love and respect you, outbursts notwithstanding. She isn’t finished growing yet. With time, steadiness, and love, these eruptions will fade, and maturity will come sooner than you think.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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My daughter is in ninth grade, and I’m already being encouraged to enroll her in Advanced Placement courses. I worry about her stress. Is it too much, too soon? I also have the feeling that the school is selling AP classes, especially since her friend, who is significantly behind her academically, is being pushed to take them too. What’s going on?

AP (Advanced Placement) courses are high school classes designed to resemble college courses. They’re taught by high school teachers, follow guidelines set by the College Board, and usually end with a standardized exam that may earn students college credit or placement, depending on the university.

College courses are challenging enough in college; they require a level of maturity, independence, and cognitive endurance that even smart ninth graders have not developed. Presumably, then, AP enrollment should be (and once was) limited to the most elite students. So why the push? Who benefits from high AP enrollment?

High schools benefit because they appear stronger to parents and universities by suggesting a college-like culture. High enlistment can improve national rankings on lists of top high schools. It also brings the attractive equity optics of broader enrollment demographics that schools covet.

Parents benefit, too. There’s pride in saying your child is taking college classes in high school, and many parents assume AP courses improve college admissions prospects (though good grades in rigorous non-AP courses do that, too).

The College Board benefits financially. Each AP exam costs around $100, and more students means more revenue. Though the organization is nonprofit, it employs many well-compensated professionals whose livelihoods depend on the program’s growth.

All of those incentives neatly align except for one group I didn’t mention: students. Why not?

The College Board provides course frameworks, but schools ultimately control instruction. That flexibility means AP rigor can vary widely across the board. When a class is filled with students not developmentally ready for college-level expectations, teachers face a dilemma: maintain rigor and fail several students, or dilute it and inflate GPAs.

Many schools choose the second option because principals don’t want AP courses perceived as punitive and parents push back against low grades. Plus, it’s GPA — not individual course rigor — that drives college admissions outcomes.

That dilution affects a school’s entire ecosystem. As schools push more kids into AP, it leaves weaker students in honors or accelerated courses, and those in so-called college prep courses are left even further behind — all of them facing the same rigor dilemma. That’s how schools end up giving away empty diplomas.

Students take the hit. Kids pushed into genuine AP rigor too early experience unnecessary anxiety. Those placed into watered-down versions develop an inflated sense of achievement. Even the kids who are ready suffer when classes are padded to accommodate weaker students.

I know a highly curious, high-achieving junior who noticed her AP teacher spending more time on fluff than instruction. Worried about the exam, she began meeting with friends at another school to compare notes. She was one of few in her class to earn a passing score.

This isn’t to suggest that all AP courses are headed off a cliff. Most remain excellent and demanding, and for the right student, at the right time, with the right teacher, they can be transformative. But if schools continue to pack large numbers of unready students into AP, that quality is at risk.

Parents should also know that AP credit isn’t universally useful. Many colleges — including Harvard, Yale, and Princeton — either restrict AP credit or use it only for placement. And a number of AP courses won’t replace required college classes at all, but are only accepted as electives. That may not matter to some students, but for others it means sacrificing actual college electives — often the most exploratory and least stressful part of a degree.

Stress deserves serious consideration. At their best, APs are challenging and time-consuming. Taking too many can, over time, contribute to a mental health disaster. Some students thrive under that pressure; many eventually burn out.

So should a 14-year-old jump into AP courses early and often? I’d say only if they’re genuinely ready for sustained college-level expectations without sacrificing curiosity, health, or joy.

Jody Stallings has been an award-winning teacher in Charleston since 1992 and is director of the Charleston Teacher Alliance. To submit a question, order his books, or follow him on social media, please visit JodyStallings.com.

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