“Classroom disruption takes a toll not only on educators, but on every student in the room.” Photo by Skynesher/Getty Images

When the Data Doesn’t Match the Reality: A Veteran Educator’s Call to Reclaim the Truth About School Behavior

At a recent town hall in Macomb County Michigan, I asked a retired teacher why she left the profession. Without hesitation, she said: student behavior and disrespect. “I didn’t want to retire, but I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Her words echoed what I’ve heard again and again from educators across Michigan and nationwide. After more than 30 years in special education, I’ve seen student behavior in the classroom change — in both general and special ed, and not always for the better. From Detroit to Grand Rapids, from New York to California, in both well‑resourced and struggling rural districts, educators are reporting the same troubling trends. Student behavior, regardless of grade level, has become more volatile, more disrespectful, and more emotionally draining than ever before.

The Disconnect between Data and Reality Yet national data tells a different story. Reports show declines in bullying, fighting, and staff victimization. On paper, things look better. But in reality, teachers are leaving. Paraprofessionals are overwhelmed. Bus drivers have quit mid‑route. And future educators are being warned away from the profession — not just because of pay, but because of behavior.

This disconnect is dangerous. It erodes trust. It silences the voices of those who live the reality every day.

The Emotional Toll on Educators and students More and more teachers, paraprofessionals, and bus drivers report severe anxiety — even PTSD. The act of walking into work to do what you love, while carrying that emotional weight, is debilitating. And when we report severe behaviors or try to discuss what’s happening, many educators told me they were met with, “You knew what you signed up for.” That response is gut‑wrenching. It’s dismissive. And it’s wrong.

Even before that town hall, I had spoken at legislative coffee hours and conferences on this very subject. Every time, my comments were met with applause and head‑nodding — not because of my oratory skills, but because educators recognized the truth. Afterwards, they would share their own stories, adding to the chorus of voices that too often go unheard.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. These incidents are complex and layered. But enough has to be enough. This isn’t just a post‑COVID phenomenon — these issues have been growing for years.

Educators aren’t calling for blanket suspensions or expulsions. We understand the nuance. But when classrooms are destroyed multiple times a year, staff are injured, repeatedly disrespected and publicly dressed down, and nothing happens — or worse, staff are blamed — something is broken.

At the very least — and this is what so many educators are asking for — we need to speak about this issue openly and honestly, in safe spaces. And be heard.

Many newer educators are afraid to speak up and “cause waves.” Veteran educators have been through the gauntlet too many times and simply try to get through the day. And when these behaviors erupt, all learning stops — not just for the acting‑out student, but for every student in that classroom, and oftentimes, in the surrounding ones as well.

What about the trauma to students who witness acting‑out behavior? When the incident is over, they’re asked to carry on, as if nothing happened. But many are left unsettled, even traumatized. In classroom clears — situations where behavior becomes so dangerous that staff and students must evacuate for their safety — children are asked to gather their things, move to another space, and resume learning as though the disruption never existed.

Then there is the possible property damage during classroom clears. One year, the teacher I worked with, and I calculated that about half of our classroom materials — between 40 and 50 percent — were ruined by repeated acting‑out behaviors. Books were torn, lesson manipulatives scattered and broken, windows, drywall, posters shredded, supplies destroyed. These weren’t just things; they were the tools meant to support learning. Their loss didn’t show up in any report, but it defined our daily reality.

Last year at a national educator meeting, I raised a question about rising behavior incidents. The presenter, though thoughtful, was beholden to the data. When I pointed out that the on‑the‑ground reality doesn’t match the numbers, we couldn’t move past it — which only proved my point. We educators know how important data is, but in some areas, such as this, there is more to it than strictly data.

Hiding in Plain Sight Across the country, surveys show that teacher shortages are worsening, and behavior challenges are often cited as a top reason. In states from Michigan to Texas to New York, educators are reporting the same disconnect. Official statistics suggest improvement, while lived experience tells a different story. The numbers may capture suspensions or criminal incidents, but they miss the daily grind of disrespect, defiance, and emotional dysregulation that wears down staff.

This is a national crisis hiding in plain sight. When state and national policymakers rely only on narrow definitions of misconduct, they miss the reality that classrooms are being disrupted daily in ways that don’t show up in reports. And when educators’ voices are excluded from shaping policy, the gap between data and reality grows wider.

If we want to retain great educators, we need to listen to their voices, not just the numbers. We need trauma‑informed training, behavior specialists, and mental health supports. We need to disaggregate data by disability, setting, and role, so that teachers, paraprofessionals, bus drivers, and other support staff are not invisible. And we need to respect the expertise of those who live this reality every day.

What’s Going Wrong

• Underreporting: Schools often don’t log lower-level disruptions, verbal aggression, or emotional dysregulation.
• Narrow definitions: Metrics often focus on suspensions and criminal acts — not the daily grind of disrespect and defiance.
• Missing voices: Teachers, paraprofessionals, and support staff are rarely consulted in shaping behavior policy or interpreting data.
• Post-pandemic shifts: Behaviors have continued to change dramatically, but our systems haven’t caught up.

To Policymakers and School Leaders

If you’re a superintendent, administrator, or legislator:

• Listen to educators/school staff — not just the numbers.
• Disaggregate your data — by disability, setting, and role.
• Invest in supports — trauma-informed training, behavior specialists, and mental health services.
• Respect educator expertise — especially in special education and support roles.

We can’t fix what we refuse to see. And we can’t retain great educators if we don’t support them.

To My Fellow Educators

You are not imagining this. You are not alone. And your voice matters more than ever. Document what’s missing. Speak up in meetings and public forums. Support each other, because burnout thrives in silence. Challenge the narrative, because your truth is valid.

If you can, attend legislator coffee hours and share your truth — I’ve done so many times. If speaking to the group feels difficult, talk with the legislator or a staff member privately afterward.

This is our moment to reclaim the truth. Not to shame or blame, but to build a system that sees us — and sees our students — clearly.

Jeff Whittle is a special education paraprofessional in Eastpointe with more than 30 years of experience in Michigan schools.