Racism, Ableism and Other Inequities Fostered by Campus Policing
By: Ria Srivastava
Tags: Students, Restorative Justice, Criminal Justice, Education, School To Prison Pipeline

(Source: Alexandra Bowman)

Since elementary school, policing has pervaded every classroom I have sat in. Personally, despite my immense privilege of not being criminalized by the police, the anxiety that campus police induce is undeniable. A gun strapped defensively to their hip, school resource officers (SROs) roam the hallways of our campuses, discipline students, even conduct home visits if students are not “distance learning engaged.” It is every school’s goal to create a positive and nurturing campus culture, but this vision is contradictory to a militarized campus, one permeated by school resource officers.

Black and Brown activists have demanded an end to policing in schools for decades. My district, Folsom-Cordova Unified School District (FCUSD), is no exception. With three SROs and their equipment, almost $600,000 goes into policing yearly. Comparatively, our district’s average salary for high school teachers is $67,130.

It is impossible to discuss policing on campuses without discussing race. The Black Parallel School Board reports that Black FCUSD students are 25 times more likely to be referred to law enforcement than their white peers. With such high arrest rates for Black students, it is unarguable that the gravity of policing on campus weighs heavy on their shoulders, as well as students with disabilities, other racial minorities, students who are socioeconomically disadvantaged and more. SROs reinforce the school-to-prison pipeline, “a disturbing national trend wherein children are funneled out of public schools and into the juvenile and criminal justice systems.” At such impressionable ages, encounters with law enforcement can have lifelong, traumatizing impacts. Yet, students are expected to share hallways with SROs.

While FCUSD students are privileged to not fall in with the 1.7 million students that attend a school with police officers and no counselors, the underlying issue is not absolved. Mental health concerns and suicide are no stranger to FCUSD; yet, when students seek support within schools, their calls are answered by academic counselors eager to assist in college and career readiness. FCUSD’s overfunding of police provides an important insight into their values: the punishment for a student’s actions matter more than the growth and the learnings they take away from their mistakes. Perhaps if the latter was valued, restorative justice practices and community-based conflict resolution would be funded. The normalization of SROs implants the impression in students’ minds that there is a need to enforce the law, that criminal activity by fellow students is frequent and pervasive.

A fellow organizer and friend of mine, Blessings Norwood, recounts an experience she had with an FCUSD SRO. As a member of Cordova High School’s Black Student Union, Blessings had attended a campus forum about the murder of Stephon Clark. Considering Clark’s death occurred just miles away in Sacramento, many students were heavily impacted. The campus SRO was invited to attend the event. As the students discussed their thoughts on systemic racism, the SRO continually discredited their fears, even at one point stating, “If you don’t comply, I will shoot and kill you.” Rather than use the space to understand student’s fears, the campus SRO simply reinforced their concerns. Since this experience, Blessings has maintained a passion for equity on FCUSD campuses, “It’s important that the Black youth know that people in their community are willing to speak out and take action against a system that is inherently against them. [I hope] to gain the attention of this district’s board members and president due to the ongoing emotional, physical and psychological trauma inflicted on Black students.”

Many supporters of SROs often point to isolated instances of specific SROs high-fiving students or building a relationship with that one student. However, such arguments overlook the countless stories students have described regarding their negative experience with law enforcement on campus, and furthermore the system that they are enforcing. No amount of high fives an SRO gives a student reverses the fear they instill as parts of a corrupt system, nor the clear disparities in their rates of discipline.

As a suburban high school with little diversity, it comes as no surprise to locals that issues of race are prevalent amongst youth. For years, students have reported instances of racism, homophobia, sexism and discrimination to FCUSD administration, only to be met with performative allyship and anti-bullying efforts. In order to truly address discrimination within FCUSD, we have to challenge the campus culture that enables it; and while SROs disproportionately reprimand marginalized groups, this cannot happen. If the administration truly stands wholeheartedly against racism, why do they employ the same uniforms that enforce it?

The very idea of policing on campus negates a nurturing school environment. Students are meant to see their schools as safe spaces that foster growth and betterment, yet law enforcement patrol hallways with guns on their hips. FCUSD claims, “Racism is unacceptable and must be addressed and opposed.” I agree — so let’s act on it. Let’s listen to Black students. Let’s foster anti-racism and transform schools into safe spaces. Let’s demilitarize our campuses.