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Corporal punishment was used in schools 4,300 times last year. Here’s what districts are doing to change that.

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Corporal punishment was used in schools 4,300 times last year. Here's what districts are doing to change that.

Shortly after moving to Madison, Jamie Bardwell learned that the Madison County School District requires parents to opt out in writing from corporal punishment being used on their , a fact she discovered from other students talking about it in her son's class.

“A kid got paddled, came back and told my son, and my son was terrified,” she said. “I explained to him that that would never happen to him, we've written this letter, but it's really scary for kids to have people in their classroom back with these stories. Even if your kid isn't the one who is subjected to corporal punishment, they're still being impacted by it.”

The Madison County School District told Mississippi Today that corporal punishment is an option in the district, and that parents are always consulted before it is administered.

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The U.S. Department of Education Office of Civil Rights tracks corporal punishment data in nationally, which is generally defined as the use of physical force to discipline students. Often called paddling, the term stems from using a wooden paddle to hit a student on the butt.

Federal data shows that over the last decade, Mississippi had more corporal punishment incidents than any other state for every year data was collected. In the 2017-18 school year, the most recent year for which there is federal data, nearly 30% of all incidents occurred in Mississippi. In the same year, 22 states reported at least one incident of corporal punishment and 10 reported over 1,000 instances.

The Mississippi Department of Education has more recent data, also for public schools. Instances of corporal punishment fell by over 23,000 from the 2016-17 school year to the 2021-22 school year. School attributed this to a combined influence of the pandemic and a 2019 state law which banned the use of corporal punishment on a student with a special education classification. 

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Some districts began the work of rethinking discipline models before the 2019 law passed.

William Murphy, director of student affairs for the Sunflower County Consolidated School District, said the district's process of veering away from corporal punishment started in 2016 with restorative justice trainings, a practice that seeks to repair harm caused rather than focus on punishment. When the 2019 law passed, Murphy said multiple administrators told him they rarely utilized it anyway “just because of the lack of effect that it was having.”

He acknowledged that the decline, from 400 incidents in 2016 to 22 in 2022, was impacted by the pandemic and students not being physically in school. However, he said he doesn't expect to see a return because of the emphasis the pandemic put on social-emotional learning.

“The pandemic allowed us to see into some children's homes, to see some things that we might have not been privy to before,” Murphy said.

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“When you're having to do more home visits or get closer acclimated to students at home, you learn some things that I think will make you less likely to use corporal punishment,” he continued. “When you learn that a child might have been abused or that a home situation is particularly traumatic, I just think there's a push to do more counseling, more talking.”

In the Scott County School District, Assistant Superintendent Chad Harrison said the district's decline in corporal punishment was strongly linked to the 2019 law going into effect. Concerned that a teacher would mistakenly administer corporal punishment to a special education student, the district changed its policy so that it can only be used by administrators or administrative assistants. The district went from nearly 1,800 incidents in 2016 to 532 in 2022.

Harrison also said that the district has focused more energy on Positive Behavioral Interventions and Supports, a framework which seeks to reward students for positive behavior rather than penalize them for negative.

Valeria Wilson shows off the treasure chest of toys that she brings to schools for meetings with students. Wilson is a behavior specialist for the Scott County School District. Thursday, February 2, 2023.

Valeria Wilson, the behavior specialist for the district, explained the shift includes both creating a culture of rewards for all students and developing individualized plans for students who are struggling with behavior problems.

At every school, teachers, cafeteria workers, janitors, and front desk employees all have “bucks” that they can give students to reward behaviors like being respectful or paying attention. Students use the bucks to buy snacks or gain entry to celebrations throughout the year.

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Valeria Wilson shows the “bucks” that students can earn for positive classroom behavior. Wilson is a behavior specialist for the Scott County School District. Thursday, February 2, 2023.

When students are put on a behavior plan, Wilson works with the student and a committee to develop daily goals and rewards if the student meets them. As a part of the plan, an adult checks in with the student daily to discuss their behavior and instant feedback.

“It's just simply making them aware of their actions,” Wilson said.

Wilson also said that students are involved in the process of selecting their rewards in order to better motivate them.

“You have to find out what the interests of that kid are, and you can only do that by building relationships with them, and then you build your plan around that student,” she said.

Despite the shifts toward other discipline models that some districts are making, advocates are concerned that corporal punishment numbers will tick back up.

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Ellen Reddy, executive director of the Nollie Jenkins Family Center in Holmes County, said she believes the pandemic accounts for some of the decline, but is also concerned districts are not being monitored properly.

The Nollie Jenkins Family Center released a report in 2021 highlighting significant disparities in corporal punishment data between the Mississippi Department of Education and the federal . Jean Cook, communications director for the Mississippi Department of Education, said MDE could not explain these differences, but that districts are not required to respond to any data quality questions from the federal government. A spokesperson for the U.S. Department of Education did not respond to questions regarding their validation process.

When asked how MDE verifies its own data, Cook said districts are required by state law to report accurate information to the state's data management system and, in doing so, verify their monthly data reports before submitting them to the department. The department does not independently verify this data after it is received unless a complaint is filed.

When talking about the decline of this practice in Mississippi, Reddy and her associates expressed concern about the demographic profile of the students who are still receiving corporal punishment, as national research has shown corporal punishment is disproportionately used on Black students.

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“Any student that experiences it is one student too many, so who's still left in that category, what do they look like, and why are they still experiencing it?” asked Chanya Anderson, a data analysis consultant working with the Nollie Jenkins Family Center. “Because if you're talking about such a drastic decline, what is it about those students that you still feel the need to use corporal punishment if your model has now shifted to something else?”

MDE data shows that for the 2021-22 school year, nearly 60% of corporal punishment instances were administered to Black students, while 35% happened to white students. For the same school year, 47% of K-12 students were Black and 43% were white.

Anderson also said that laws temporarily put a damper on certain practices, which could explain the decline in corporal punishment incidents.

“When you enact any law, even if laws don't affect all populations … that's still going to bring attention to the plight of corporal punishment generally,” Anderson said. “In light of laws, you will often see institutions pull back momentarily, and then as people forget about it and move on, they'll start to increase their usage of it again once the spotlight has moved off the topic.”

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This legislative , Rep. Carl Mickens, D-Brooksville, introduced a bill to ban corporal punishment but it died, as have his previous efforts for the last five years. Mickens said he doesn't think the practice “will cause a child to learn, I think it might cause them not to want to learn.” Though he disagrees with the practice, he said ultimately only legislative leadership has the power to decide if a bill progresses.

Rep. Richard Bennett, R-, chair of the House Education Committee, said he has not taken up the bills to ban it because he believes corporal punishment is a local issue. He said he has not looked at research on how it impacts children.

Studies have shown that corporal punishment can students to be more aggressive, have higher rates of depression, and perform worse in school. Morgan Craven, federal policy director for the Intercultural Development Research Association, said it's telling that so many groups have lined up in opposition, including psychiatrists, pediatricians, lawyers, public health officials, school counselors and educators.

“Not only is it ineffective, but it can actually make issues worse,” Craven said. “Whatever it is that is leading to a particular behavior, it is not solved by hitting a kid.”

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Francine Jefferson, who was a board member of the former Holmes County School District, advocated to end corporal punishment when she was on the board from 2010-2018. While she did not achieve a complete ban, the board did change policies to restrict the practice, including allowing parents to opt out.

“I grew up in that environment where teachers are allowed to paddle the kids. I mean, hell, the bus drivers could paddle you, everybody could paddle you,” Jefferson, who also grew up in the district, said. “I grew up with that experience, and it wasn't a pleasant one … That's why I pushed so much for it because I never forgot that experience.”

The district later banned the practice entirely in 2018 after consolidation, but Jefferson said she is still concerned about it happening in Holmes County and other parts of the state.

“How many pounds of pressure do you put on a child's bottom?” she said. “What's the right amount? Nobody knows. If you can't tell me that, then I don't think you need to do it because you can't take it back.”

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This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

Mississippi Today

On this day in 1917

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mississippitoday.org – Jerry Mitchell – 2024-05-05 07:00:00

May 5, 1917

Eugene Jacques Bullard, seen here in uniform in World War I, was the first African-American combat pilot. Credit: Wikipedia

Eugene Jacques Bullard became the first Black American combat pilot. 

After the near lynching of his father and hearing that Great Britain lacked such racism, the 12-year-old Georgia native stowed away on a ship headed for Scotland. From there, he moved to Liverpool, England, where he handled odd jobs before becoming a boxer, traveling across Europe before he settled in Paris. 

“It seems to me that the French democracy influenced the minds of both White and Black Americans there and helped us all to act like brothers as near as possible,” he said. “It convinced me, too, that God really did create all equal, and it was easy to that way.” 

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When World War I began, he was too young to fight for his adopted country, so he and other American expatriates joined the French Foreign Legion. Through a of battles, he was wounded, and believed he would never walk again. 

No longer able to serve in the infantry, an American friend bet him $2,000 that he could not get into aviation. Taking on the , he earned his “wings” and began fighting for the French Aéronautique Militaire. 

He addressed racism with words on his plane, “All Blood Runs Red,” and he nicknamed himself, “The Black Swallow of .” 

On his flights, he reportedly took along a Rhesus monkey named “Jimmy.” He tried to join the U.S. Air Service, only to be turned away because he was Black. He became one of France's most decorated war heroes, earning the French Legion of Honor. 

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After the war he bought a Paris nightclub, where Josephine Baker and Louis Armstrong performed and eventually helped French ferret out Nazi sympathizers. After World War II ended, he moved to Harlem, but his widespread fame never followed him back to the U.S. 

In 1960, when French President Charles de Gaulle visited, he told government officials that he wanted to see his old friend, Bullard. No one in the government knew where Bullard was, and the FBI finally found him in an unexpected place — working as an elevator operator at the Rockefeller Center in New York

After de Gaulle's visit, he appeared on “The Today Show,” which was shot in the same building where he worked. 

Upon his death from cancer in 1961, he was buried with honors in the French War ' section of the Flushing Cemetery in Queens, New York. 

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A sculpture of Bullard can be viewed in the Smithsonian National and Air Museum in Washington, D.C., a statue of him can be found outside the Museum of Aviation, and an exhibit on him can be seen inside the National Museum of the U.S. Air Force, which posthumously gave him the rank of a second lieutenant. He is loosely portrayed in the 2006 film, “Flyboys.”

This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

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Mississippi Today

A seat at table for Democrats might have gotten Medicaid expansion across the finish line

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mississippitoday.org – Bobby Harrison – 2024-05-05 06:00:00

The Mississippi Capitol is 171,000 square feet, granted a massive structure, but when it comes to communication between the two legislative chambers that occupy the building, it might as well be as big as the cosmos.

Such was the case in recent days during the intense and often combustible that eventually led to the of Medicaid expansion and with that the loss of the to provide for 200,000 working poor with the federal government paying the bulk of the cost.

Democrats in the state House came under intense pressure and criticism for blocking a Medicaid expansion compromise reached by Republican House and Senate negotiators.

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First of all, it would be disingenuous to argue that Democrats, who compose less than one-third of the membership of either chamber, blocked any proposal. Truth be known, Republicans should be able to pass anything they want without a solitary Democratic vote.

But on this particular issue, the Republican legislative leadership who finally decided that Medicaid expansion would be good for the state needed the votes of the minority party, which incidentally had been working for 10 years to pass Medicaid expansion. The reason their votes were needed is that many Republicans, despite the wishes of their , still oppose Medicaid expansion.

The breakdown in the process could be attributed to the of the two presiding , House Speaker Jason White and Lt. Gov. Delbert Hosemann in the Senate, not to appoint a single Democrat to the all-important conference committee.

Conference committees are formed of three senators and three House members who work out the differences between the two chambers on a bill. Considering that Democratic votes were needed in both chambers to pass Medicaid expansion, and considering Democrats had been working on the issue for a decade while Republicans blocked it, it would have made sense that they had a seat at the table in the final negotiations process.

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One Democrat from each chamber on the conference committee could not have altered the outcome of the negotiations. But the two Democrats could have provided input on what their fellow legislative Democrats would accept and vote for.

In the eyes of the Democrats, the compromise reached without their voice being heard was unworkable and would not have resulted in Medicaid expansion.

The Republican compromise said Medicaid would not be expanded until the federal government provided a waiver mandating those on Medicaid expansion were working. Similar work requirement requests by other states have been denied. Under the compromise, if the work requirement was rejected by federal officials, Medicaid expansion would not occur in Mississippi.

After voicing strong objections to the work requirement, House Minority Leader Rep. Robert Johnson, recognizing the Senate would not budge from the work requirement, offered a compromise. The Johnson compromise to the compromise was to remove a provision mandating the state apply annually with federal officials for the work requirement.

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Instead, under Johnson's proposal, state Medicaid officials would be mandated to apply just once for the work requirement. If it was rejected, Medicaid expansion would not occur, but hopefully that would compel the Legislature to take up the issue of the work requirement and perhaps remove it.

“We just want the Legislature to come back and have a conversation next year if the federal government doesn't approve the work requirement. It's as simple as that,” Johnson said.

Senate leaders agreed that Johnson's proposal was a simple ask and something they might consider.

But Lt. Gov. Delbert Hosemann, who presides over the Senate, said he never heard Johnson's proposal until late in the process — too late in the process, as it turned out.

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Speaker Jason White, R-, also said he never heard the proposal, though Johnson said he repeatedly discussed it with House leaders. He certainly was relaying the information to the during the final hectic days before Medicaid expansion died.

And perhaps if Johnson or one of his Democratic colleagues had been on the conference committee, that information would have been heard by the right legislative people and perhaps Medicaid expansion would not have died.

After all, a conference room or an office where negotiators are meeting to hammer out a compromise is much smaller than the massive state Capitol, where communications often get lost in the cosmos.

This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

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Mississippi Today

On this day in 1884

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May 4, 1884

of Ida B. Wells, circa 1893 Credit: Courtesy of National Park Service

Crusading journalist Ida B. Wells, an African-American native of Holly Springs, Mississippi, was riding a train from Memphis to Woodstock, Tennessee, where she worked as a teacher, when a white railroad conductor ordered her to move to another car. She refused.

When the conductor grabbed her by the arm, “I fastened my teeth in the back of his hand,” she wrote.

The conductor got from others, who dragged her off the train.

In response, she sued the railroad, saying the company forced Black Americans to ride in “separate but unequal” coaches. A local judge agreed, awarding her $500 in damages.

But the Tennessee Supreme Court reversed that ruling three years later. The upended her belief in the court system.

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“I have firmly believed all along that the was on our side and would, when we appealed it, give us justice,” she said. “I feel shorn of that belief and utterly discouraged, and just now, if it were possible, would gather my race in my arms and fly away with them.”

Wells knew about caring for others. At age 16, she raised her younger siblings after her and a brother died in a yellow fever epidemic. She became a teacher to her .

This article first appeared on Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

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