We Want Order in Our Schools in Jamaica — But We Reject the Rules That Create It

Stories start circulating across the news and social media. Videos, pictures, and reports go viral. Diaspora members and Jamaicans alike become frustrated, debating issues that seem to repeat year after year.

Some of these matters even make their way into the courts, where judges are left to interpret the relationship between school policies, Ministry guidelines, and the broader laws of the land.

And what are these issues?

Students’ hairstyles.

Boys’ pants.

Girls’ skirts — how high or how low.

Shoes, lotions, cologne.

Whether a child’s foot is dry or properly “shined.”

At times, it all feels chaotic, disruptive, and, to some, unnecessary.

I used to look at these situations and wonder if, on the first Monday morning of September, reporters simply position themselves outside schools waiting for a story. Or maybe they wait for the videos — captured by students themselves — to hit social media, and then build the narrative from there.

But the more I have sat with principals and listened — really listened — the more I understand that what we see publicly is only a small piece of a much larger reality.

The start of the school year is one of the most intense periods in a principal’s calendar. It is not just about opening gates and ringing bells. It is about bringing order, structure, and stability so that learning can take place.

And that is not simple.

Principals are managing aging infrastructure, limited resources, and classrooms that are often overcrowded. They are working within rigid policy environments, navigating serious incidents like school fights and sexual assaults, yet still being held accountable for outcomes they do not fully control.

They are leading teachers with varying levels of experience and capacity. They are addressing student behavior shaped by home, community, and social pressures. They are engaging parents, responding to Ministry expectations, and ensuring that schools remain safe, functional, and focused.

At the same time, they are expected to maintain standards.

And this is where the public conversation often becomes confused.

If we as a society decide that we want a system like some parts of the United States — where students come to school dressed however they choose — then we must be honest enough to say that we are moving away from uniformity as a national approach.

But as long as we operate within a system of uniforms — khaki pants for boys, properly polished shoes, hair kept in accordance with school rules, and girls dressed in prescribed uniforms — then we must also accept what comes with that system.

Standards.

Consistency.

Accountability.

Those expectations did not appear overnight. Long ago, as a society, we made a decision — a kind of social contract — to put our children in uniforms. The reasons were practical and important.

Uniforms make school more affordable for parents.

They allow communities to distinguish students from adults.

They contribute to safety, order, and a sense of shared identity within schools.

That system only works if it is upheld.

And the responsibility for upholding it falls squarely on the shoulders of principals and school leaders.

So when we see a situation go viral — a skirt being measured, a student being sent home, a rule being enforced — we are often reacting to a moment without understanding the system behind it.

Principals are not simply reacting. They are trying to hold a line.

A line that allows hundreds, sometimes thousands, of students to function within a shared space.

A line that creates predictability in environments that can otherwise become unstable.

A line that makes it possible for teaching and learning to actually happen.

The job of a principal is never ending.

They are not just administrators. They are instructional leaders, disciplinarians, counselors, mediators, and, at times, crisis managers. They are balancing policy, people, and pressure — all at once.

So the question is not whether we agree with every individual decision.

The real question is this:

Do we support the system we say we believe in?

Because if we do, then we must also support the people responsible for maintaining it.

And if we do not, then we must be prepared to rethink the system itself.

But we cannot have both.

We cannot demand order and resist the standards that create it.

When parents send their children to school, the rules matter.

You cannot send a child into a structured environment and then object when that structure is enforced.

But we also have to be honest about something.

In many cases, parents are not always sending their children to school in violation of the rules. Some students leave home dressed one way and then change before they get to school. That is a different issue altogether — and it points back to parenting, guidance, and accountability at home.

When that happens, it requires conversation. It requires correction. And it requires alignment between the home and the school.

Parents and schools cannot be working in two different directions.

Then there is the role of the media.

When an incident involving two or three students out of a population of hundreds — sometimes over a thousand — is amplified into a national issue, it distorts reality. It creates the impression of widespread breakdown when, in truth, it is often an isolated matter being addressed.

These situations should be allowed to be managed by school administrators, within the systems that already exist.

Not every incident needs a headline.

Because when routine disciplinary matters are pulled into the public arena prematurely, it does more than interrupt — it destabilizes. It puts balance on edge and makes it harder for schools to do the very work we expect them to do.

The principals of our approximately 1,000 public schools across Jamaica and over 3,000 private schools are our treasures. I respect them. They are highly trained, and they carry a level of responsibility that most people never fully see.

Without their work, it’s chaos.

So as we debate, share, comment, and react, we must also pause and remember who is holding the system together.

Not perfectly.

Not without pressure.

But consistently.

And that matters.

Dr. Leo Gilling is a criminologist, educator, and diaspora policy advocate. He writes The Gilling Papers, where he examines policing, public safety, governance, and community-based solutions in Jamaica and across the African diaspora. Send feedback to editorial@oldharbournews.com