(Or: Why Your Kid Probably Isn’t a Villain, But Also Isn’t Perfect Either)

There’s a part of me that’s always been a storyteller. I’ve spent years watching the chaos of childhood—my own and others’—and turning it into little stories that make sense of the messy, funny, absurd moments of growing up. I like noticing the tiny details: the way a kid’s shoelaces can double as a tool of mischief, or how a single “oops” can ripple through a classroom like a dropped pebble in a pond.

But lately, I’ve found myself wearing a slightly different hat. It sits a little heavier on the head: the school disciplinarian hat. Not the scary, villainous kind, mind you—I leave that to the fire alarms and the occasional popcorn bag chaos—but the kind that watches, takes notes, and, when necessary, steps in to say, “Hold on. Let’s talk about this.”

And that’s when I realized: these two roles aren’t so different. Both require observation, patience, and the occasional sense of humor. Both are about noticing patterns, helping kids see themselves more clearly, and guiding them toward something better than chaos—or at least, slightly less catastrophic chaos.

So, in that spirit, here’s my attempt to step out of the storyteller’s chair for a minute and share some thoughts on school discipline. Think of it as a story with rules—or a rules discussion with a story lurking in the margins. Either way, buckle up: kids will misbehave. And if we’re lucky, we might just learn a little along the way.

It starts with the phone ringing. You’re sipping coffee, scrolling through emails, maybe dreaming of a quiet morning—and then: “Hi, this is Ms. Hernandez from school…”

Immediately, your heart does that thing where it skips a beat and you try not to imagine the worst-case scenario. Maybe your kid didn’t exactly throw a chair across the classroom… yet. But something has happened. And suddenly, the firm discipline you cheer for when it happens to other people’s children feels like a personal attack.

Here’s a secret: mistakes are part of growing up. Kids make them. Even the ones you swore were perfect. Even the ones who help old ladies cross the street. Even the ones who write poems about their dog and cry over the ending of The Lion King. They still, somehow, manage to misplace homework, spread a rumor, or stage a small-scale fire alarm incident using a popcorn bag. True story.

This is where parents get tricky. We like the idea of discipline in theory. But hearing it about our own kid? Suddenly, our inner lawyer comes out swinging: “But she didn’t mean it!” or “He’s usually such a good kid!” Usually, this is true. But the “usually” part is exactly why discipline exists.

Your kid will mess up.

It’s a simple truth. Children are designed to test limits, sometimes subtly, often spectacularly. One minute they’re quietly reading, the next they’re gluing the stapler to their desk because… well, why not? Even amazing kids have moments that make you wonder if they swapped brains with a mischievous raccoon overnight.

They don’t come with a values GPS.

Kids are not mini-yous. They haven’t had decades to practice nuance, empathy, or understanding that saying “You’re weird” in the cafeteria has consequences. Adolescents push boundaries and, occasionally, act with reckless charm. Your job is not to take it personally—even when you want to scream, “Did I raise you, or did a raccoon move in here?”

There are always two sides to the story.

“Oh, I didn’t do anything!” they say, eyes wide, innocence radiating. And you want to believe them. You do. But kids are storytellers. They have a knack for framing themselves as victims of circumstances, cosmic injustice, or that one weird kid who always smells like cheese. Listen. Ask questions. Probe. It’s amazing what you can learn when you resist the urge to nod blindly and yell, “INNOCENT!”

Fix the misbehavior first. Everything else second.

A colleague once told me about a parent who called to argue that their child wasn’t being disruptive… while their child sat in the background actively throwing paper airplanes. Stop. Correct the behavior first. Worry about nuances later. Otherwise, you’re patching a leaky boat while debating wave patterns.

Teachers deserve some grace.

Teachers make hundreds of decisions a day. Some are brilliant. Some… less so. But most notice patterns you can’t see from home. If they point out something that seems small or strange, listen. They might be onto something—and even when they aren’t, you can respond calmly. Fire alarms and popcorn aside, they’re usually trying to help.

Think long-term.

Immediate comfort is tempting. We all want kids to be happy right now. But uncorrected misbehavior grows like weeds, and consequences multiply. Discipline teaches responsibility. It teaches resilience. And someday, it might even save your kid from accidentally sending a very important text to the wrong person.

Use words carefully.

Kids are not “bad kids.” They’re kids who shoved, lied, or called someone a “dingus.” Focus on actions, not labels. Labels stick, especially in small towns, classrooms, and group chats. Use verbs: “He shoved her,” “She spread rumors”, not “He’s a troublemaker.” Trust me—it matters.

Modern discipline isn’t what it used to be.

Gone are the days of paddles and public humiliation. Today, schools try to guide behavior, not punish for the sake of punishment. Sometimes the process is slow. Sometimes it involves long meetings with parents and awkward conversations. But the goal is the same: help your child learn how to navigate the world without accidentally setting off the fire alarm—or worse.

Mistakes don’t define great parents.

The phone call isn’t a verdict on your parenting. A great parent is someone who responds thoughtfully, calmly, and consistently—not someone whose kid never errs. Your child’s mistakes are just the messy, loud, popcorn-scented bits of growing up.

Model respect for authority.

How you treat teachers teaches your child how to treat authority and criticism. Dismissing discipline sends the wrong message. Listening, asking questions respectfully, and supporting corrective action shows your child that mistakes are learning opportunities.

Discipline is messy, complicated, sometimes funny, and occasionally terrifying. But it’s also essential. It’s part of growing up, learning responsibility, and eventually surviving life outside your living room without starting a small fire.

So yes—answer the phone. Listen. Correct. Laugh. Repeat. Your kid will probably mess up again tomorrow—but with a little guidance, they just might grow into someone who can handle mistakes without setting off a popcorn-fueled alarm. And that, in the end, is worth it.

And then, just like that, the story shifts back. The phone is quiet for now, the classroom still, and I can settle back into my storyteller’s chair with a fresh cup of coffee, watching the world unfold one misadventure at a time.

Discipline, mistakes, chaos—they’re all part of the story, not plot twists that ruin it. Kids will mess up. Teachers will try. Parents will occasionally panic. And somehow, amid all the missteps, the learning happens—sometimes quietly, sometimes painfully, always, eventually, in its own messy, beautiful way.

I sip my coffee, laugh at the little disasters, take notes on the bigger lessons, and marvel at how these moments—funny, frustrating, infuriating—shape the people we’re raising. The storyteller in me smiles. 

The disciplinarian in me nods. 

And the coffee in my hand? 

Well, it’s probably the wisest member of the team, keeping me sane through it all.

There’s more waiting at xinkblotz.com—a blend of fiction, reflection, and whatever’s brewing. One post, one story, one cup of coffee at a time.