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Before You Write a Rule, Ask This Question Every Time

"Am I making this rule to deal with an immorality, an inefficiency, or an annoyance?"

That's the magic question. If you can't sort the rule you're writing into one of those three categories, it's going be a bad rule. If you don't understand the distinction between those three categories, you're going to communicate your rules poorly, and your students are going to respond poorly. 

If that's all you came here for, go with God. If you'd like to read more about how I arrived at that question, read on.


I have, at times, been accused of hating all the rules all the time in all the places. To be fair, I've probably earned that accusation because I am, shall we say, a little hyperbolic when something seem irrational to me. So today, I want to provide a framework for how I think about school rules. 

My issue with rules isn't the mere existence of any rules at all. Rather, I take issue with the seemingly automatic, unstoppable proliferation of constant, near-suffocating rules that seem to be tumorous growths on otherwise healthy organizations. It's not complicated; we have, in all aspects of life, far more "rules" than we actually need. 

In short, it should be obvious that some rules will always be necessary--but it should be equally as obvious that all rules will sometimes be in need of review and revision.

That being said, I've managed to run a classroom now for seventeen years without ever being accused of having "too many rules." A big part of that has to do with this site's title: I have consciously tried for over a decade to communicate the idea "you students matter just as much as I do" with the way I conduct my classes.

Different schools use different methods when classroom discipline breaks down: demerits, detentions, referrals, etc. I've been in schools that have used all three, and more.

It's been over a decade since I've had to use any of those methods.


How is that possible? A story, first:

I once went to file some business paperwork at the county probate office. The paperwork required the payment of a $125 fee. When I arrived, I was told that I couldn't pay the fee via credit card in the office. Instead, I had to go home, fill out a form with my credit card info, print it, and drive it back to the office, so that it could be mailed to Montgomery, so that it could be manually entered there.

This ludicrous inefficiency nearly killed me. I asked why credit card payments weren't accepted. No one could explain why the office refused to accept on-site payments. The rule was inscrutable and immutable--a Pronouncement From On High, flying in the face of all reason.

Whether we use the word "rule" or "policy" to describe the Official Illogical Decree doesn't really matter; what matters is that half my day was eaten by a scenario that should never have existed.  It took two blood pressure pills to calm me down that day.


People rebel when they feel trapped. Students are people. Students feel trapped when they believe they're subject to arbitrary rules. The opposite of "arbitrary" is "rational." People do not feel trapped, and therefore they do not generally rebel, against rational rules. It's quite simple: when you can succinctly explain the "why" of the rule, you have, to a large degree, insulated it from rebellion.

Note that there is little room in this system for "Because I said so." Certainly, occasional students will require that approach, and I plan to write about that later. But if you find yourself using it more than once or twice a semester, consider the possibility that you're using it as a crutch because you either doubt the necessity of the rule itself or you doubt your ability to explain it effectively.

I don't have to send kids to the office, because my classroom is built around very few rules, and I never write a rule until I know which category I'm putting it into. The student is human, and human beings (at least in this country) have the right to expect leadership that is neither intrusive nor irrational. My classroom works off of conversations, not checklists.

Good rules are easy to explain: they minimize immorality and maximize efficiency. 

I hope you'll come back, as the next three posts will deal with each question individually. To subscribe, click that big blue button at the very bottom. 

(Comedian Dan Cummins has a quite funny bit about arbitrary and thoughtless policy-making here, but those sensitive to language might not want to click through.)


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