Minnesota's new policy banning school suspensions for our youngest students is progress

When Markus Flynn, a former teacher and the executive director of Black Men Teach, discusses the benefits of a new Minnesota law that aims to curb detentions and suspensions for young children in a place that disproportionately punishes BIPOC students, he focuses on the data.

In Minnesota, Indigenous students are 10 times more likely to be suspended or expelled than white students, per a Minnesota Department of Human Rights study. Black students are eight times more likely to be suspended or expelled than their white peers. Students with disabilities also face more disciplinary actions than other students.

But Flynn doesn't stop there. He cites a 2021 National Survey of Children's Health study that showed Black boys made up 20% of enrolled preschool students in America two years ago but also accounted for half of the preschool suspensions or expulsions. And a 2016 study from Yale used eye-tracking technology with educators to demonstrate "a tendency to more closely observe black students, and especially boys, when challenging behaviors are expected."

In Minnesota, where 95% of the teachers are white, Flynn said, it's important to employ policy changes to spur tangible shifts.

"The data shows that suspensions don't necessarily bring positive outcomes," Flynn said. "If you're suspending a kid, you don't see improved academic achievement for peers or even perceptions of a positive school climate."

When I first read about the new law banning suspensions for students in kindergarten through third grade, I thought about my own school days and the Phelps boys.

In elementary and middle school, the Phelps brothers often attracted attention from teachers. Whether they were bouncing up and down the hallways, cracking jokes or running across the playground, somehow, they'd end up in the principal's office. I only know that because, at times, I joined them. My class-clown ways led to occasional trouble for me, too. But the reasons were often subjective: He talks too much, he's a distraction to the other students, etc.

One day, I ended up in the principal's office — the office of the same principal who'd told me, in seventh grade, I might end up in jail. I entered that office at my predominantly white school and looked around: Every kid in the room was Black.

The new Minnesota law will challenge teachers to dismiss labels that begin at the critical stage in preschool and elementary school and affect some children for the rest of their lives.

"The bias against Black students starts so early, so early, and it persists throughout their entire K-12 experience," Flynn said. "When I think of a kid's identity and their development and really seeing themselves as a student, seeing themselves as a learner, developing an affinity for school, that happens early. But the opposite happens early too where you have this disconnect and you're like, 'This isn't for me.'"

That's why it's important to follow Flynn's lead and address the data in these conversations. The most compelling component of the new Minnesota law is the requirement for teachers and staffers to "log every recess detention and report them to the state at the end of the school year, including demographic data such as students' age, race and gender."

My parents never knew about any disciplinary action I'd faced unless someone called home or if the "he talks too much" conversation made its semi-annual appearance at my parent-teacher conferences.

When my oldest daughter was in fifth grade, she came home one day and told us she had been separated from her friends at lunch. Her crew was mostly Black.

For weeks, the school had placed my daughter at a table apart from the other tables in the cafeteria, where she looked at a wall. Her friends were scattered throughout the room, too. Her crime? She'd been a member of a BIPOC friend group that had been accused of having too much fun when they all entered the lunch room after recess.

The school did not notify us about this discipline. I showed up — unannounced — and witnessed this disciplinary action for myself. Then, the principal apologized.

My daughter had advocates who could leave work and investigate. But that's not the reality for everyone. Parents, especially BIPOC parents, should feel comfortable sending their children to Minnesota schools. But the track record of disproportionate — sometimes undocumented — punishment makes that difficult.

"It becomes this gaslighting, avoidance of the issue of race and racism," said Carlos Mariani Rosa of the Minnesota Education Equity Partnership. "And this bill, at least, begins to put strong guidance on the part of the state, through law, that says, 'You know what? We're not going to call you racist, but you can't do this under these circumstances with these types of students.' It's a great first step. And it's only a first step."

I only recently connected with one of the Phelps boys through Facebook.

Today, the Phelps brothers run a multimillion-dollar construction firm in Milwaukee.

It's ironic, if you think about it.

The same kids who were once sent to principal's offices as punishment for their behavior now run an award-winning firm that builds them.

Myron Medcalf is a local columnist for the Star Tribune and recipient of the 2022 Society of Professional Journalists Sigma Delta Chi Award for general column writing.