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“[…] What happens beyond classroom removal matters because the students we expel are still children. Many of them are struggling with challenges far bigger than a ‘bad’ attitude including trauma, broken homes or mental health needs.
“Simply moving them from one ministry to another won’t fix the issue if there is no plan to meet their specific needs.
“[…] If we truly are serious about reducing school-based violence and helping young people turn their lives around, we need systems that treat expulsion not as the end but as a transition for deeper intervention…”
The following Letter to the Editor, which suggests that expulsion—by itself—might only worsen the issue of deviant behavior by school children, was submitted to Wired868 by Kwasi Cudjoe, a social impact consultant from D’Abadie:
Each time we expel a child from school, Trinidad and Tobago should be asking a serious question. What happens next?
For years, school-based violence has seemingly increased and evolved way beyond harsh words or classroom disruptions to severe fights and other real concerns. The truth is, teachers are overwhelmed, parents are frustrated and some students are behaving in ways that threaten the safety of the school community.
The Ministry of Education has within its School Discipline Matrix, suspension and expulsion as a few of its tools to restore order and better manage these incidents. However, the question of what actually (not what is meant to) happens to a child who is sent away still remains.
The once established Learning Enhancement Centres, which were intended to engage suspended students, do not appear to be operating and with no specialized space for expelled youth, focus was shifted in the recent past to placing these students into programs like MILAT.
On paper and to a frustrated public including some educators, this may sound like a solution or even a second chance. Yet in practice, it raises questions as these programs were not originally designed for this purpose.
Simply put, this approach may be well-intentioned but it’s reactive and not rehabilitative.
What happens beyond classroom removal matters because the students we expel are still children. Many of them are struggling with challenges far bigger than a ‘bad’ attitude including trauma, broken homes or mental health needs.
Simply moving them from one ministry to another won’t fix the issue if there is no plan to meet their specific needs. Teachers and support staff have been trying to make it work but passion can only go so far when dealing with such problems.
If we truly are serious about reducing school-based violence and helping young people turn their lives around, we need systems that treat expulsion not as the end but as a transition for deeper intervention.
We can do better by properly developing specialized alternatives that cater to the unique needs of expelled students including girls. These should be trauma informed, staffed with trained behavioral specialist and offer both academic and psychosocial support.
There must be a strengthening of cross ministry coordination in terms of referral protocols, case management and tracking systems.
The ‘no student falls through the cracks’ must be more than a mere policy catch phrase and reflected in practice. Also, before we even reach expulsion there are often warning signs that can be addressed by investing more in prevention and early intervention.
Remember, each child is still a child of this nation. Let’s build systems that see discipline as a path to healing and recovery.
Expulsion should never equate to exclusion from opportunity or society. Until meaningful alternatives are established, we are not solving school violence, we’re just relocating it.
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Kwasi letter poses the question too many in Trinidad and Tobago are afraid to answer honestly: What happens after expulsion? Where do violent students go when they are removed from school—and what becomes of them in a society already overwhelmed by crime, broken homes, and social fragmentation?
This question isn’t soft. It’s not an excuse for bad behaviour. It’s a challenge to our systems—and to all of us.
The public frustration is loud, and rightly so. Videos of school fights, violent brawls, and classroom disruptions dominate social media. Teachers are leaving in despair. Parents fear for their children. And innocent students suffer in silence while others hijack the school environment.
In response to Cudjoe’s piece, reader Mohan offered a passionate and sobering counterpoint: what about the victims? He argued that too often, national conversations centre on the aggressor’s needs while sidelining those of the bullied, the beaten, the terrified. His words were clear: “Expulsion is not the problem. It is a moral obligation—to the victims.”
Mohan is absolutely right. Victims must be the starting point of any school discipline strategy. The student who came to school to learn but was assaulted or harassed must be protected and supported. Teachers deserve safety and respect. There must be immediate justice, zero tolerance for violence, and real consequences—including criminal prosecution where appropriate.
But here’s the hard truth: expelling violent students with no structured intervention is not justice. It’s short-sighted.
We remove them from the classroom, but what do we do next? Many of these students are already dealing with serious issues: trauma, abuse, neglect, or gang influence. Without intervention, they don’t disappear. They return to the streets—unmonitored, unsupported, and often angrier than before. They feed into the very crime wave we are trying to escape.
Even newly sworn-in Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissessar acknowledged this duality. In a bold statement, she demanded police prosecution of violent incidents—but also emphasized that if parents can’t manage their children, “we will have to look for spaces to properly nurture and counsel them.”
That is the balanced national approach we need. One that says clearly:
• Victims come first.
• Violence must have consequences.
• But expulsion must not be the end of the road.
We need specialized intervention centres, staffed by behavioral professionals, educators, and counselors. These centres should offer suspended and expelled students a structured environment, emotional support, life skills, and a pathway forward—but only if they meet clear benchmarks for behavioral change. Reintegration must be earned.
We also need to ask: why do some schools have much less violence than others? What systems are working there? And how can we replicate those safeguards nationally?
This is not about excusing anyone. It’s about protecting everyone. Because if we keep throwing away students without rehabilitating them, we’re not removing the threat. We’re just shifting it into the future.
Discipline and dignity are not opposites. Justice and rehabilitation can coexist. Mohan’s call for accountability and victim-centered responses must be honoured. But we also must acknowledge the danger of abandoning troubled youth to a criminal world waiting to recruit them.
To truly solve school violence, we must make expulsion a transition—not a dead end. Let it lead to deeper intervention, not deeper despair.
As Cudjoe asked: What happens next?
Let our answer be bold, balanced, and humane. Let it reflect our duty not just to punish—but to protect, to prevent, and to rebuild.
I write in response to the recent letter lamenting the fate of students expelled from schools due to violent and disruptive behaviour. While it feigns concern for the education system, it is dangerously one-sided and fails the most fundamental question of justice: what about the victims?
Each time we focus national debate on the “needs” of the aggressor, we wilfully ignore the rights, safety, and futures of the vast majority of students who come to school to learn, not to fight. The child who brings a knife to school, who beats another unconscious, or who terrorises classrooms with chronic defiance is not just “misunderstood”—they are perpetrators of harm, and their continued presence denies others their right to an education.
Expulsion is not the problem. It is a necessary disciplinary measure, and frankly, a last resort after all other options have failed. Let us be clear: school is not a holding pen for the violent and emotionally unregulated. It is a place of learning, and we owe it to teachers and students alike to protect that purpose. The “trauma-informed” discourse must not become an excuse for abandoning standards, discipline, or consequences.
The letter’s suggestion that Ministries are failing these youths may be partially true, but it is entirely misdirected. The real failure is the tolerance of behaviour that would not be accepted in any workplace, public institution, or home. No amount of “referral protocols” or “cross-ministry coordination” can substitute for basic decency and discipline at home and accountability in school.
We must stop treating expulsion as a moral failure of the education system. In fact, it is a moral obligation—to the victims of assault, to the bullied child now too anxious to attend class, and to the dedicated teachers driven to burnout and resignation.
To suggest that violent students are simply “children of the nation” who deserve another programme or another ministry to manage their antisocial conduct is to miss the point. So too are their victims, children of the nation. Where is the call to safeguard their rights? Where is the support for them?
Let us be unequivocal: violence in schools must carry consequences. If we are to salvage our education system and the trust within it, we must build not just rehabilitative pathways for the few, but protective systems for the many.
Anything less is a betrayal of every child who still believes school is a place of safety and purpose.