I had this really great conversation with one of the school leaders I coach who was dealing with a disciplinary issue being faced by her team

There was a disciplinary issue on her campus — a student had made a choice, broken a rule, and now her team was ready to move forward with the consequence outlined in the handbook.

Clean. Simple. Consistent.

Except it wasn't sitting right with her.

She knew this student. She knew the story beneath the story. She could see a path toward restoration, toward growth, toward something more redemptive than what the policy demanded.

As we discussed the issue, it became clear that her heart was moving in the direction of mercy and wisdom on behalf of the student but she kept bumping up against the policies and procedures of the school

And that's when I told her something that I’ve thought about every time I have to make a hard disciplinary decision as a Head of School:

"I don't like it when students break the rules…but I hate it when the rules break students."

That sentence has become a kind of North Star for me. And I want to unpack it with you today — because I think it gets at something we don't talk about enough in leadership.

Let me be clear about something up front: there are absolutely non-negotiables in our polices, rules, and procedures

Guns. Weapons. Drugs on campus. Violence. Actions that dehumanize others or destroy community safety. These aren't areas where we have the luxury of discretion. These require immediate, decisive, protective action.

But here's the thing: Most disciplinary situations don't fall into that category.

Most of the time, we're dealing with kids who are still learning how to be human.

Who made a bad choice, not a catastrophic one. Who need correction, not condemnation. Who need a chance to grow, not just a punishment to endure.

And yet, if we're not careful, our systems — our policies, our handbooks, our "this is how we've always done it" — can become rigid and dehumanizing in ways we never intended.

We enforce the letter of the law and miss the spirit entirely.

We say we care about the whole child, but when the moment comes, we reduce them to the infraction.

We treat the behavior as the whole story and forget that there's a person underneath it — a person with context, with wounds, with a future we're supposed to be helping them build.

And sometimes? The policy we thought was protecting fairness ends up crushing the very thing we're trying to cultivate: their flourishing.

I think we use the words "discipline" and "punishment" interchangeably, but they are not the same thing.

Punishment is retributive. It's "do the time for the crime." You did this thing, you suffer this penalty.

Its aim is narrow: to address the particular action in that moment. It's about the rule that was broken and making sure there's a consequence. It can feel clean, efficient, consistent.

But it's also often cold. And it rarely transforms anyone.

Discipline, on the other hand, is transformative. The concept is rooted in the word disciple — and at its heart, discipleship is about formation.

It's redemptive, not retributive.

It doesn't just ask, "What rule was broken?"

It asks, "Who is this person becoming, and how do we help them course-correct toward their own flourishing?"

Punishment says: You messed up, now you pay.

Discipline says: You're still becoming, and I'm not giving up on that.

Punishment is rooted in rules.

Discipline is rooted in values.

That doesn't mean there are no consequences.

It means the consequences are designed to restore, not just to penalize.

So here's what I want you to sit with this week:

"Are you punishing behavior — or fostering flourishing?"

Because those are two very different things. And the way you answer that question reveals everything about the kind of culture you're actually building.

If your first instinct when a student messes up is to reach for the handbook and find the matching consequence, you might be in punishment mode.

If your first instinct is to ask, "What does this student need in order to grow from this? What's the intervention that actually changes the trajectory here?" — you're operating from a place of discipline.

Let me give you an example.

A student skips class. Repeatedly.

The punishment approach says: detention, loss of privileges, maybe suspension if it keeps happening. It's about compliance. Stop the behavior. Enforce the rule.

The discipline approach asks deeper questions:

Why is this student skipping? What are they avoiding? What's going on at home, or in that class, or inside their own head that makes showing up feel impossible?

And then it responds with an intervention designed not just to stop the skipping, but to address the root — tutoring, counseling, a schedule adjustment, a relationship with an adult who checks in.

One approach stops the behavior (maybe).

The other actually helps the kid.

And I'll be honest — the second one is harder.

It takes more time, more nuance, more emotional labor.

But it's also the one that actually builds the kind of culture where students learn to make better choices because they've internalized the values, not because they're afraid of getting caught.

If you're a school leader trying to move your team from punishment to discipline, here's where I'd start:

Revisit your policies with fresh eyes. Go through your student handbook — not as a legal document, but as a reflection of your values.

Ask: Does this policy foster flourishing, or does it just punish infractions?

Where do you have room for discretion? Where are you tied to consequences that might do more harm than good? And where do you need to advocate for change?

Equip your team with better questions. When teachers bring you a discipline issue, resist the urge to immediately solve it with a consequence.

Instead, coach them through a different set of questions:

What does this student need? What's the intervention that actually addresses the root? What does restoration look like here? What would it mean to respond with both accountability and compassion?

Normalize the tension. Let your team know it's okay to feel conflicted. It's okay to have a policy and also recognize that applying it rigidly might not serve the student sitting in front of you.

That tension isn't a failure of leadership — it's evidence that you're actually wrestling with what's right, not just what's easy.

Create space for those conversations.

Model it yourself. When you face a disciplinary decision, let your team see you choose discipline over punishment as often as you possibly can. Talk out loud about why you're making the choice you're making. Show them what it looks like to hold high standards and high compassion at the same time.

They need to see that it's possible.

One of the things I learned to do early was say in a disciplinary meeting: “I need more time to think this through”. Then I would go home and chew on it until I saw a clear path forward that moved in the direction of health for all parties.

Be firm and unflinching in those areas that are non-negotiables. I still think there are certain things we must move on with firm compliance. When those things arise, do so with consistency so that everyone understands where the hard lines are. That creates the space within which the flourishing of persons can take place inside a culture that everyone knows values safety (physical, emotional, psychological, cultural, etc) as a top priority

The goal isn't to be soft.

It's to be wise.

It's to hold the line on what truly matters — safety, dignity, the integrity of the community — while leaving room for the kind of grace that actually changes lives.

Here's a simple exercise you can do with your leadership team or on your own:

Pick one recent disciplinary situation from your school. Ask yourself (or your team):

You don't have to change your whole system overnight. But starting with one situation — one honest reflection — can shift how you approach the next one.

Because students are going to break the rules. That's part of growing up.

But the rules should never break them.

That's on us.

Blessings on the path

Scott

This kind of leadership — the kind that holds accountability and compassion in the same hand, that builds systems designed to form rather than just control — doesn't happen by accident. It takes intention, practice, and often a thought partner who can help you think differently about what's possible.

That's exactly the kind of work I do with school leaders like you.

Whether you need coaching to navigate tough decisions, professional development for your team on discipline that actually transforms, or help reimagining your school's approach to student behavior and culture — I'd love to walk alongside you.

You can learn more about my work and schedule a free call just to chat here:

And if this resonated with you, share it with another leader who's wrestling with these same questions.

We're better together.

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