Holding the Line on Kindness w/ Theresa Campbell

Kids today are growing up in a world their teachers barely recognize. The rules of social interaction have been rewritten by algorithms. The economy they’ll graduate into looks nothing like the one their educators trained them for. And somewhere between TikTok trends and political shouting matches, a lot of them have genuinely lost the thread on why any of this school stuff is supposed to matter.

But some things do not change. The ability to treat the person next to you with basic decency. The skill of working through a disagreement without tearing someone apart. The discipline to look someone in the eye, say good morning, and mean it. These are not outdated relics of a simpler time. They are the foundation of every functioning classroom, every healthy workplace, every relationship that lasts.

Teachers like Theresa Campbell at North Parkway Middle School in Jackson, Tennessee, have not forgotten that. Even when the world outside seems to have lost its grip on basic civility, they are holding the line inside their classrooms. Not because they are naive about how hard the job is. Because they know how much is at stake if they stop.

The good news on violence, the bad news on everything else

Physical violence in schools has actually dropped significantly over the past decade. Between 2012 and 2022, the nonfatal criminal victimization rate for students ages 12 to 18 fell from 52 to 22 incidents per 1,000 students. Campus fights, gang presence, and serious violent victimizations are all down.

That is real progress, and it did not happen by accident. It came from schools doubling down on school climate efforts and social-emotional learning, according to researchers tracking these trends.

But here is the part we have not caught up with: while physical violence has declined, the bullying landscape has shifted dramatically. Cyberbullying has grown even as in-person bullying rates dropped. Students who spend heavy hours on social media are significantly more likely to experience bullying, both online and at school, and to report persistent feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and suicidal thoughts. The cruelty just moved to a different platform, one that follows kids home and never sleeps.

Not every mean comment is bullying. Bullying typically involves a pattern of repeated harm with a power imbalance. But unkind behavior, even when it is not technically bullying, still damages the culture of a classroom. It still teaches kids that cruelty is tolerated if you stay just under the line.

Both need to be addressed. Both require adult intervention. And both thrive when no one says anything.

The trap of “unfixable” kids

Teachers are exhausted. There is not enough time in the day to address every incident, follow up on every conflict, document every concern. The system was already stretched thin before the pandemic, and it has only gotten harder since.

So what often happens is this: the kid on the receiving end of unkind behavior gets the support, the check-ins, the counselor visits. That is necessary. But the kid doing the harm? After months or years of unsuccessful interventions, they get quietly written off. Labeled a lost cause. Left for the universe (or the prison system) to sort after they age out.

That is not a strategy. That is an abdication.

Even when a school does not have the resources to fully rehabilitate a student’s behavior, it matters that unkind behavior is called out. Every time. Research on bullying interventions suggests that discussions with students about their behavior, where they are asked to explain why they did what they did, lead to reduced bullying in 74% of cases. Their answers to why they did what they did are rarely satisfying. But the exercise of thinking it through, having to vocalize it, knowing someone noticed and refused to let it slide, makes a real difference over time.

Approaches that combine a direct, condemning message with empathy-raising elements are more effective at changing behavior than either approach alone. That means teachers are not choosing between strictness and compassion. The most effective intervention uses both.

Culture is built in the first week

The most powerful thing a teacher can do is not manage behavior after it happens. It establishes expectations before it starts. Set the tone from day one. Start how you intend to end.

Theresa Campbell makes every student meet her eyes and say good morning when they walk in. Every day. Some of them do not want to. That is fine. They do it anyway.

That simple ritual is not about compliance. It is about recognition. It says: I see you. You matter. And in this space, we treat each other like humans.

There are as many ways to build this kind of culture as there are teachers in the world. Some use social contracts in the first week, where the class decides together what the norms will be. Some post the expectations on the wall and hold everyone to them with quiet consistency. The method matters less than the follow-through.

Do not miss the follow-up

When a student does something unkind, you cannot always stop the class. That is reality. But you can follow up. Later that period. After school. The next morning.

Do not let it slide.

Missing that follow-up teaches a lesson just as clearly as having the conversation does. It tells the student who acted out that they can get away with it. It tells the student who got hurt that no one really cares. It tells everyone watching that the stated expectations are just words.

Follow through. Every time. Even when it is hard. Even when you are tired. Especially then.

The courage required

None of this is easy. Teachers are being asked to hold the line on basic human decency while navigating budget cuts, political pressure, overcrowded classrooms, and a cultural moment where nastiness has been normalized at the highest levels.

But here is what remains true: kids are watching. They are learning what adults will tolerate, what they will name, what they will challenge, and what they will quietly let pass. They are building their sense of how people should treat each other based on what they see modeled, or not modeled, by the adults in their lives.

The educators who refuse to let unkindness go unchallenged, who insist on eye contact and good mornings and real conversations when things go wrong, are not just managing behavior. They are teaching something no algorithm can replace. They are teaching kids that they matter, that the people around them matter, and that how we treat each other still counts for something.

That is the work. And right now, it might be the most important thing happening in any school building.