From Detention to Connection: An 8-Year-Old’s Insight About Punishment and Respect
A simple question from my son sparked a deeper realization.
My 8-year-old asked, “Why don’t schools just let kids bring a friend to detention so they have someone to talk to?”
I explained, “Because the purpose of detention is to ‘punish’ or ‘teach a lesson’ so kids don’t do the same thing again.”
Without hesitation, he replied, “That’s straight up just child abuse.”
And honestly? He’s not wrong.
This simple exchange revealed something profound: kids can see through the normalized practices we, as adults, rarely question. Punishments like detention are framed as tools to “correct” behavior, but what they really do is enforce compliance, isolate kids, and teach that mistakes should be met with shame rather than understanding.
Punishment as Isolation
When schools use isolation—like sitting alone in detention—as a disciplinary tool, it’s not about growth; it’s about enforcing authority and control. My son’s observation captured a deeper truth: isolating kids doesn’t teach accountability or empathy. It teaches them that belonging is conditional upon their ability to conform.
This reflects our society’s reliance on behaviorism—the belief that rewards and punishments control behavior. But this approach prioritizes obedience over understanding, ignoring the root causes of actions, often perpetuating them. It doesn’t guide kids toward growth; it shames and ostracizes them, breeding resentment and rebellion rather than accountability.
And yes, society has rules—but who do those rules serve, and how are they enforced?
Rules should foster respect and fairness. We should be helping children understand why rules exist and involving them in the process, creating a society where people value equity—not follow rules out of fear. Yet too often, rules are arbitrarily created to assert authority and dehumanize.
Despite its ineffectiveness and harm, the system persists because its aim is not to foster emotional intelligence or meaningful growth but to push kids through a standardized framework. It centers conformity over connection, suppressing the individuality that makes learning truly transformative.
The School-to-Prison Pipeline
This conversation brought to mind a system that begins with punitive school practices and leads to lifelong consequences. Detention, suspension, and expulsion treat children’s mistakes as crimes rather than opportunities to learn and grow.
This normalization of punishment disproportionately impacts marginalized kids, priming them for a justice system that prioritizes punishment over rehabilitation. When schools focus on compliance instead of relationships, they pave the way for systemic harm.
Research shows how ineffective this approach is. Studies reveal that imprisonment doesn’t reduce recidivism rates; in fact, longer sentences often lead to higher rates of reoffending. If punishment fails to create positive change in adults, why do we expect it to work for children? Or maybe it’s worth asking if its purpose is less about guiding children and more about pushing the status quo.
What Punishment Really Teaches
Punishment doesn’t teach children how to make better choices—it teaches them to fear consequences and to hide their mistakes.
From a neurological and developmental perspective, when children are punished, their nervous systems are conditioned to respond with fear, shame, and defensiveness. The threat of punishment triggers a fight-or-flight response, prioritizing survival over self-reflection or growth.
Children learn to avoid the situation, not because they understand the mistake, but because they fear being caught or reprimanded.
This response doesn’t build accountability—it drives them away from connection, making them less likely to seek guidance or open communication. They may learn to act "right" only when being watched, or hide and manipulate to avoid punishment, a pattern that ultimately undermines trust.
What’s worse, this pattern sets children up for a lifetime of avoiding accountability, perpetuating cycles of blame, defensiveness, and fear. This is a system that doesn’t foster the emotional resilience and maturity needed to navigate real-world challenges in a healthy manner—it fosters a shallow submission, disconnected from authentic understanding.
Revolution Begins with Children
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: we can’t talk about revolution without addressing how we normalize the mistreatment of children. The oppressive practices in schools, homes, and society don’t just harm kids in the moment—they indoctrinate them to accept systems of control and dehumanization for the rest of their lives.
Detention, suspensions, and other punitive measures are just the beginning. These patterns teach children to internalize mistreatment as normal, preparing them for workplaces, relationships, and social systems where compliance is valued over humanity. If we want to dismantle oppressive systems, we need to start by reimagining how we treat children.
The Bigger Picture
My 8-year-old’s comment—calling out detention as a form of abuse—reminds me of how clearly children see systems that don’t serve them. Their perspective is unclouded by years of conditioning, allowing them to question practices we take for granted.
It’s a wake-up call for adults: if we truly want a better world, we need to start with how we raise and educate children. The way we treat kids today shapes the systems they’ll either accept or dismantle as adults.
Every time we normalize control, isolation, and dehumanization, we’re reinforcing the very structures of oppression we claim to fight against. Revolution isn’t just about changing governments or economies—it’s about rethinking the relationships and practices we engage in every day.
When we raise children with respect, treating them as whole, capable individuals, we give them the tools to reject oppression and demand better—for themselves and for society. It’s not just about raising better kids; it’s about creating a better future.
Because when children grow up knowing their worth, they’ll refuse to accept anything less.
