Teachers, field trips, and classroom violence

Every so often, the educational debate returns to the same point: the increase in conflicts in schools and the growing sense of vulnerability among teachers. The latest study by the Spanish teachers' union STEs-I, which found that 83% of teachers perceive an increase in verbal and physical aggression from students, has revived a familiar narrative: that of the school as a space in permanent crisis.

That the majority of the teaching staffperceiveAn increase in conflict is relevant, but it does not automatically equate to a generalized increase in violence. It is essential that the Department of Education provide public, standardized, and accessible data on conflict cases reported in schools. This is not to monitor teachers or fuel alarmist narratives, but to assess the extent to which the growing perception of conflict corresponds—or does not correspond—to the actual situation. Without comparable historical data, clear conflict typologies, and contextualization, the risk is to mistake perception for explanation.

However, one fact remains undeniable: the feeling of professional vulnerability. If the repeated data on aggression demonstrates anything, it is that school conflict is not being resolved despite the proliferation of protocols, coexistence plans, committees, and action guidelines. The problem, therefore, is not a lack of tools: it is something else, more unsettling.

For years, the education system has progressively eroded teachers' authority without replacing it with a functional alternative model. Authority has been confused with authoritarianism, rules with imposition, and limits with repression. The result has not been a more democratic school, but rather one with diffuse authority and concentrated responsibilities. Today, teachers must manage increasingly complex conflicts, mediate emotional and family situations, implement strict protocols, document every decision for fear of challenge, and, at the same time, maintain a positive classroom climate and academic performance. All of this without clear institutional support and with the perception that any firm decision could be turned against them.

The protocols are well-intentioned, but they share a structural flaw: they only intervene once conflict has erupted, not when it can be prevented. Furthermore, they shift responsibility to the school and individual teachers, while the administration retains formal oversight. The implicit message is clear: manage the conflict, but don't make mistakes. Thus, the teacher ceases to be an institutionally upheld authority and becomes a risk manager.

Viewed from an institutional perspective, the phenomenon becomes even clearer. When a system concentrates the costs (legal, emotional, reputational) on the teacher who wields authority, but fails to guarantee clear benefits or effective protection, it creates a set of perverse incentives. In this context, avoiding exposure is not a lack of vocation, but a rational response.

This fragility is especially visible outside the classroom. The recent announcement that many teachers will stop participating in school trips as a form of protest has reopened a long-simmering debate about the real limits of teacher responsibility. The recent protest points to a deeper tension: to what extent does the education system still depend on teachers' personal availability to perform duties that extend beyond the classroom? In some schools, this tension has already translated into a growing reliance on external monitors to carry out some of these activities.

Delegating student supervision to specialized companies sends an implicit message that is difficult to ignore: the system acknowledges that it no longer supports teachers in exercising authority. Paradoxically, the external monitor can impose clear limits and immediate consequences, not because they have greater pedagogical legitimacy, but because they are not subject to the same administrative, emotional, and legal framework. In practice, it is a way of transferring risk outside the public system. The conflict does not disappear; it is displaced.

There is no more conflict for the students to be worse than before. There is more conflict because the system has abandoned its responsibility to maintain clear and predictable boundaries, leaving those who must enforce them to fend for themselves. Because when an education system penalizes those who take responsibility and fails to protect those who set limits, the result is predictable: withdrawal, outsourcing, and discord. Coexistence is not built solely through dialogue: it requires understandable rules, known consequences, and institutional authority. Without these, there is no school democracy: there is organizational fatigue. There is no inclusion: there is attrition.