Disabling the ‘school-to-prison pipeline’

Before diving into this column, I want to be clear: This is not a critique of any one school, district or institution. It is a reflection rooted in research, observation, and personal experience on the current state of education for Black boys in America.

The phrase “school-to-prison pipeline” has been used for years by the U.S. Department of Education, the Department of Justice, and education advocates to describe the disproportionate discipline Black boys face in schools. If you’ve never heard the term, here’s what it means.

The American Bar Association defines the school-to-prison pipeline as “a series of practices and policies that funnel children and adolescents from public schools into our juvenile and criminal systems.” The ACLU describes it as the policies and practices that “push our nation’s schoolchildren, especially our most at-risk children, out of classrooms and into the juvenile and criminal justice systems,” reflecting a prioritization of incarceration over education.

The nonprofit Why Me? Transforming Lives Through Restorative Justice calls it “the systemic process where marginalized students are pushed out of mainstream education and into the criminal justice system due to exclusionary discipline policies, lack of emotional support, and exposure to violence.”

“Black students are more likely to be suspended, expelled, or referred to law enforcement for the same behavior that might result in a warning or conversation for white students.”

For many Black boys, this is not theoretical. It is a daily reality. The school-to-prison pipeline describes a system that punishes instead of nurtures, isolates instead of supports, and ultimately pushes students, especially Black boys, from classrooms into courtrooms.

In Minnesota and across the nation, data continue to show that Black students are more likely to be suspended, expelled, or referred to law enforcement for the same behavior that might result in a warning or conversation for white students.

Behind those statistics are real boys, students full of potential who are pushed out before they have a chance to rise.

How did we get here?

Zero-tolerance policies, implicit bias, and a lack of culturally responsive practices have created environments where normal childhood behavior is criminalized when exhibited by Black boys. A Black boy showing frustration may be labeled “aggressive.” A student struggling academically may be labeled “defiant” or “lazy.” Over time, these labels shape how educators interact with students and how students view themselves.

People often talk about “dismantling” the school-to-prison pipeline. I use a different word: disable. Disabling acknowledges an uncomfortable truth that the current system is functioning the way it was designed to. Real change requires more than policy shifts; it requires a collective effort by educators, parents and community members working together from the inside out.

This work cannot wait for the next school year or the next round of legislation. It must begin now. Disabling the pipeline means shifting from punishment to partnership, from exclusion to restoration.

Here is what that can look like in schools:

• Prioritizing relationships over reactions. Many suspensions can be avoided through conversations rooted in care.

 Example: Instead of writing up a student who leaves class frustrated, check in later and ask what happened.

• Training and supporting educators. Culturally responsive training helps teachers understand the “why” behind behavior.

 Example: Offer coaching sessions where staff walk through real behavior scenarios and practice responses.

• Implementing restorative practices. Restorative circles and mediation can turn conflict into opportunities for growth.

 Example: When two students argue about a basketball game, take them to the gym for a brief one-on-one instead of issuing a referral.

• Centering mental health. Many behaviors are rooted in trauma, not defiance.

Example: Bring counselors and school therapists into the discipline process, not just administrators.

• Engaging families as partners. Strong home-school relationships lead to better attendance, fewer removals and stronger connections.

Example: Make positive phone calls part of your weekly routine.

Families and community members have a role:

• Build relationships with teachers.

Example: At the start of the school year, share your child’s strengths and needs.

• Advocate for restorative discipline.

 Example: If your child is facing a suspension, request a restorative meeting instead.

• Teach self-advocacy. 

 Example: Role-play scenarios that help your child express needs clearly.

• Monitor grades and attendance. 

Example: Check the school’s system regularly and reach out early if something seems off.

• Stay involved in conferences, parent meetings and school board conversations.

Example: Ask questions and take initiative during conferences.

As a Black male educator, I have seen both the harshness of the current system and the power of grace. I have seen what happens when a teacher chooses patience over punishment, when a principal chooses mentorship over removal and when a community chooses understanding over judgment. 

I have witnessed restorative conversations that bring parents and educators together, de-escalation led by a calm security officer, and apologies from teachers that repair trust with students. These choices matter. They change lives.

Consider this:

• What would schools look like if suspension wasn’t the first option but the last?
• What could be possible if every school was known for restoring students rather than removing them? 
• How much further could Black boys go if we invested in their gifts as urgently as we respond to their mistakes?
• What would it mean if every parent met with teachers before the school year began?
• And how can each of us — educators, parents, and community members — help disable the pipeline and build pathways to possibility instead?

Let’s rise together.

Richard D. Terrell is a native of Minneapolis, MN. He is the father of three; Zyree, Raymond and Vivian. Richard has a passion for community, education, and youth development. For the last 20 years, he has served at various schools working with and supporting students, families, and teachers. He currently serves as an Assistant Principal with Saint Paul Public Schools. For more information on Richard D. Terrell or to purchase his book “Letters to my Young Brothers: There is Hope!” visit his website at https://mrrichardterrell.com.