PUTTING COPS
Enough preteens have gotten caught with guns by Jessica Winski Springfield police officer Mark DeVaney knows exactly where the trouble spots around Lanphier High School are: the narrow alley that plays host to students gathered for cigarette breaks, the noisy hallway on the first floor where the kids linger and the lunchtime traffic flows, the hang-out spot in the nearby Osco parking lot and sometimes even the front porches of the houses across 15th Street. That's because, for DeVaney, walking the beat means walking the school's campus. "I look at it as a mini-city. We've got some 1,300 people — students, teachers and staff — that have all got to get along," says DeVaney, who has been assigned full-time to the school since January. Police officers aren't really new to Lanphier: They were first brought in during the 1970s to enforce court- ordered busing, and they've been around part-time and off-duty since. The need for a full-time officer, however, is new. "Times have changed. Kids are not the same as they were," says Lanphier Principal Larry Rowe. Indeed, that is the general perception nationwide. And, in truth, enough preteens have gotten caught with guns in their backpacks to fuel that perception. This wasn't the case in 1940 when teachers said their biggest troublemakers were chatty gum-smacking students with a tendency to cut in line. Today's teachers fear physical violence. Still, outside of teacher surveys and the headlines, how much do we really know about school violence? Illinois, like most states, does little to track the problem, says Pamela Riley, executive director of the Center for the Prevention of School Violence in North Carolina. Founded in 1993, the center shares resources with North Carolina State University's College of Education and Psychology and serves as a nationwide clearinghouse for information about school violence and solutions to the problem. On the bright side, cities like Springfield are doing the best they can to combat it: Enter DeVaney, full-time school cop. "Most kids, when they see a uniform and a squad car, are not going to do whatever they might have been planning to do," says DeVaney, a commanding presence in his police blues. He's probably right; most conversations stop midsentence as he walks by. Only a few students say "hello." Still, "they're starting to come around," he says. School security guard Jeff Curtis agrees. "In the back of the students' minds there's a constant fear of handcuffs and going to jail. This is real life. It's not just going to detention. It's not getting in trouble with your parents. It's serious." No one incident sparked the move to put a neighborhood police officer in Lanphier. The decision, which now includes two of the city's schools designed for troubled kids, was made by the school district. Across the country, schools have employed a number of strategies to prevent or control violence. Some use metal detectors. Others conduct searches of student lockers, though courts have been divided on the constitutionality of that tactic. They've considered requiring school uniforms — also recently debated in Springfield — and they've closed campuses, prohibiting students from leaving during school hours, something Lanphier plans to implement next year. Lanphier is only a few months into the program to put police officers in the school, which North Carolina's Riley credits with improving troubled schools in her state. Aside from enacting stricter laws, she says, partnerships between schools and police officers are the most effective way to prevent violence in schools. Still, this doesn't get at the core problem: We don't know how pervasive school violence is. Beyond federal reporting requirements, Illinois tracks only two statistics — firearms violations and crimes against school personnel — and has done this only in the last two years. In 1997, the first year Illinois State Police looked for guns in schools, they found 18 violations statewide. In 1996, they found 1,207 crimes against school personnel for the nine months reported. That included battery, assault, theft, intimidation and other offenses. And of the 1997 figures available so far, 24 / April 1998 Illinois Issues 1,350 offenses were reported. Such recent statistics are hard to put in context. Still, the information is giving legislators ammunition to tackle the problem. Republican state Rep. Dale Righter, a lawyer from Mattoon, has introduced a bill that would increase the penalty for assaulting a school employee on school grounds. "School violence is on the rise," he says. "We need to make a strong statement about it." But what exactly is school violence? Some define it simply as a conflict escalating into a physical altercation, anything from fistfights and shoving matches to more serious incidents involving weapons. Others might include nonphysical acts: threats, name-calling, harassment and stalking. Violence can and does happen everywhere. "It's not fair to say that kids acting out violently is an urban problem. It is happening in rural and suburban schools too," says Mike Kotner, the Illinois State Board of Education's school violence expert. Even private schools are not immune, as elementary schoolteacher Michael Workman knows too well. During four weeks of teaching at a 97-student parochial grade school in Springfield, he witnessed three fistfights on the playground. "They solved their problems through fighting," Workman says. The state board has responded with its "Safe at School" plan, a 44-point initiative adopted in 1996. Some of those points represent commitments by the board, others provide direction for local governments. State Superintendent Joseph Spagnolo brought the idea from Virginia, where he set it in motion. The overall thrust is to help local schools solve their own problems. Last year, the board estimated 1,400 personnel from more than 600 schools were trained in crisis management, violence prevention and aggression replacement. "Little Jimmy says so-and-so has a gun in his backpack and the teachers' and principals' faces just go blank," says Kotner, talking about how some teachers react in the training scenarios.
Under the Gun-Free Schools Act of 1994, states had to enact laws requiring expulsion of students for at least one year if they are found with firearms on campus. And states must report annually the number of students expelled and the type of firearm. Illinois schools reported 250 expulsions in 1996-97, a discrepancy from the number of guns the state police found. "Numbers used in a simple way can be very helpful," says Joanne McDaniel, research director of Riley's center. "School personnel should know that this isn't just one more set of numbers. It can be used to create useful strategies and wisely invest resources. The result, ultimately, will be safer schools." Yet, as Illinois' Safe School Plan recognizes, communities and schools have the primary role to play in reducing violence in schools. Back at Lanphier, DeVaney is doing his best. While he's patrolling the hallways at the end of the lunch period, a lanky boy in a red T-shirt and baggy jeans stops to say hello. "How are you doing?" DeVaney asks. "I'm staying out of trouble," the teenager responds. Says DeVaney: "That's what I want to hear." Illinois Issues April 1998 / 25 |
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