Vandalism 101

It's my belief that every teacher education program across the country should include a class titled, VANDALISM 101. Prospective teachers should have some guidance in handling such a situation if and when it arises. I understand that vandalism is not limited to educators alone, but it's what I'm most familiar with after 27 years in the classroom. You or someone you know will more than likely become a victim as well. Each of us reacts differently, but all ask ourselves, "Why? Why me? Why my family?"

I personally believe that there are at least four major reasons a teen chooses of his/her own free will to vandalize: peer pressure, boredom, the community, and the parents. These will, by all means, become apparent in the events I'm about to share with you.

My first teaching experience came in a very small farming community in central Montana. The students (all 30 of them in high school) were hard workers not only in the classroom, but also on their farms. Everyone was involved in school activities or there would have been no activity. When they weren't in class or playing basketball, they were plowing, planting, and harvesting crops. The majority of students had no spare time; thus, avoiding trouble for themselves and their parents. After moving to eastern Montana, though, it wouldn't take long to realize that not all small communities were the same.

My most horrific example begins with Susan, a friend of mine that I had met while attending various conferences. She taught business courses while her husband Steve taught physical education and coached wrestling, in an eastern Montana high school of approximately 200 students. For reasons unknown at the time, five young boys decided late one night to "visit" Susan and Steve. They slashed all the tires and broke all the windows in two vehicles; they used black spray paint to totally cover the windows of the home; they painted obscenities on every wall of the home and garage, as well as the cars, driveway, and sidewalk. As she was sharing her grief with me, I couldn't imagine why anyone would choose to do such massive destruction. Then I remembered: Students are invincible; nothing ever happens to them; they would never get caught, and if they did, "We'll just lie our way out of it." At least that's what I had been told by my very own students.

What's fun about committing vandalism if no one else knows who did it? It was for fun, wasn't it? The boys bragged about their adventurous escapade and were turned in by their unforgiving classmates. The punishment--pay restitution for the property damage, community service, 7-day school suspension, and probation until they turned 21. But WHY? Why did they do it? One of their friends had been suspended from the next wrestling tournament for drinking alcohol; and even though none of the five were on the wrestling team, they chose to defend him by "getting even" with the coach.

Spray paint--orange spray paint--The Class of '79 Loves You!" The morning I saw the message on my white garage door written in huge letters, I felt nothing but hurt. TC was angry, angrier than I had ever seen him before. He wanted to paint over it immediately, but I wanted him to leave it. He didn't understand WHY; and frankly, neither did I. Perhaps a student would come forth and reveal the culprit as some had done in the past, but no one did. They did, however, question me on a daily basis during the next week, wondering when we were going to paint our garage door. I laughed, "Are you serious? It's not every day that a class actually admits they love a teacher." But I wasn't laughing on the inside.

For the next seven years, I glanced at the garage door as I was leaving for school each morning. The Class of '79 had come and gone, their "mark" still evident for everyone to see. As my two babies grew into toddlers, they, too, saw the "mark" and had questions: "Mommy, what is that?" "Can I paint, too, Mommy?" and eventually, "Why did they do that, Mommy?" I was wondering that very same thing even after all those years.

In 1985, the long awaited answer came in the form of a letter, filled with words of regret and apology. The student wrote, "Every time I return home, I drive by your house and gaze at the reminder of what I had done so long ago. If I could only take it back... Please let me make it right. I will do anything for you." When Terry arrived home that night, I showed him the letter; and as he read it over and over, I quietly said to him, "It's time to paint the garage door." Did I honestly believe that I would earn a confession by leaving those words open to the world? Absolutely not, but sometimes I do things for reasons even I can't explain.

There are times when students have absolutely too much free time. More often than not, it comes during the wee hours of the night as the rest of the world sleeps. A student of mine chose to "visit" me during such an occasion. I wonder what he was thinking as he threw that over-sized rock at our vehicle windshield. Was he expecting it to shatter into a thousand pieces, or would the rock just leave a minor chip barely visible to the naked eye? Regardless, once the rock had been released from his hand, the damage was done.

Unfortunately for the student, his identity became known to me early the next morning by a classmate who felt that what the vandal had done was morally wrong and chose to tell me, even if it meant becoming an outcast of his/her peers. (To this day, I have never revealed the name of the student who turned him in. I made a promise.) Rather than admit the events of the previous night to his parents, the student forced me to be the one to notify them of his destructive prank. He paid to have our windshield replaced from his own hard-earned money, but still there was the question, "Why did he commit vandalism?" He told a story of how he didn't appreciate the "daggers" being thrown at him in class--"daggers" being those looks of disapproval from me. Demonstrating acceptable behavior in class could have prevented the "looks," but perhaps he would rather have been pointed in the direction of the superintendent's office.

When parents are confronted with news that their son or daughter is in serious trouble, each reacts differently. I have seen a mother cry from pure shame of her child's behavior, have had a mother scream at me because her son would never do such a thing (though the student had already admitted his guilt to me), and had a parent tell his son and daughter that once they turn 18, they are on their own. Which best decribes you or parents you know?

If you are a parent, have you taught your children to accept responsibility for their actions, to respect others and other's property, and to respect those in authority? Have you taught them to avoid peer pressure, to make good use of their spare hours, to improve the community by volunteering their services, and to respect themselves by being the very best they can be? It's never too late.