Every morning, I wake up with a simple goal: survive the school day. I brush my teeth, eat breakfast, pack my bag, and mentally prepare myself for the seven hours ahead of me. But apparently, I’ve been missing something—something so crucial, so sacred, that forgetting it could land me in detention. No, not my homework. Not my Chromebook. My lanyard.

I don’t purposely forget my lanyard. Nobody does. No student wakes up, looks in the mirror, and thinks, “You know what would really add some spice to my Tuesday? Purposefully forgetting my lanyard.” It’s not an act of rebellion. It’s a common mistake. A small, very human mistake. Yet somehow, that one innocent slip-up can earn you a detention.

And that’s where my confusion begins. A detention. For a lanyard. I mean, if I pants a kid or talk back to my teacher, sure—throw me in detention. But this? This feels like we’ve taken “safety enforcement” a bit too extreme.

Now, I understand the idea behind the lanyard policy. It’s about safety. We all want our school to be secure, and it’s important for staff to know who is authorized to be in the building. I get that. But must we act like I’m a national security threat because I left a piece of laminated plastic on my desk at home? There’s a big difference between “protecting the school” and “punishing forgetfulness.”

What really gets me, though, is the severity of the punishment. One forgotten lanyard equals one detention. Just like that. Boom. No warnings. No “Hey, make sure you remember it next time.” Straight to the big leagues. Two years ago, the rule was fair—you got detention after three times. That made sense. It accounted for the occasional bad morning or the chaos of rushing out the door. But now? One and done. The system has no mercy.

And while we’re at it, let’s talk about detention itself. Yes, technically, you’re “allowed” to do work there. But let’s be honest for a second: who is actually getting anything done in that room? I need silence—absolute, library-level silence—to focus. Meanwhile, the detention room is filled with the sound of kids chatting, the bell ringing every couple of minutes, and students being yelled at by Mrs. Detention. It’s basically a productivity graveyard.

So, I sit there, staring at my half-finished homework, reflecting deeply on the horrors of forgetting a piece of string with a card attached to it. Is this really the best use of my time or anyone’s time? What lesson am I supposed to be learning here? “Don’t forget your lanyard or else”? Believe me, I already don’t want to forget it. It’s just that, sometimes, things happen.

Like I said before, I’m not suggesting we ditch the lanyard rule altogether. I get it—safety first. But maybe we could bring back a little empathy, a little common sense. The old rule—detention after every three infractions—worked perfectly fine. It balanced accountability with realism. Because, let’s face it, we’re teenagers. We forget stuff. It’s practically in our DNA.

In the end, I think we can all agree: safety matters, but so does perspective. Forgetting a lanyard doesn’t make me reckless; it makes me human. Please remember that, sometimes, even the most responsible people leave things behind.

And next time I forget my lanyard, I promise it’s not because I’m rebelling. It’s because my teenaged morning brain decided that being on time for my test was slightly more important.