Did you hear the one about the high school senior who got suspended for having a 2-inch keychain knife in his car? How about the one about the 6-year-old who was nearly sent to reform school for bringing a camping tool to his first-grade class?

Turns out, the punch line is the same for both of those stories, and countless others like them: The kids ran afoul of their schools' "zero-tolerance" policy. But zero tolerance is no joke for the students and families who get caught up in mindless bureaucratic mandates that do not distinguish keychain knives and camping tools from switchblades and shivs.

Such policies, often established in hasty response to real tragedies, are the reductio ad absurdum of public schooling: one-size-fits-all discipline that punishes innocent mistakes as harshly as any malicious breach of law and order.

Maybe it's no surprise that California was at the forefront of the zero-tolerance movement. The nation's first zero-tolerance rules took effect in 1989. Such policies became standard nationwide in 1994 after Congress passed and President Bill Clinton signed the Gun-Free Schools Act in response to a rash of school shootings. Most districts toughened the rules after the Columbine High School massacre in 1999.

Yet California's rules, while stringent, are a bit more sensible than most. The term "zero-tolerance" doesn't appear in the education code, but the state Department of Education's Web site explains that rules exist to "send a 'get tough' message to the community that violent behavior, incidents and crime would not be tolerated."

Unlike many states, however, California law distinguishes between "brandishing a knife at another person," which comes with mandatory expulsion, and "possession of any knife … of no reasonable use to the pupil" as a "significant but discretionary infraction" with punishment left to the good judgment of the principal or superintendent.

Truth is, local discipline problems require local solutions. The Bee in September highlighted Samuel Jackman Middle School in south Sacramento, which tallied 1,224 suspensions in 2008, including 300 for "pre-fighting" – a nebulous category that includes such behavior as "taking a fighting stance or threatening to fight." Suspending kids who never actually throw a punch might cross the line of good sense. But as Jackman struggles to raise its Academic Performance Index scores, officials need the flexibility to foster a healthy learning environment.

Around the country, school administrators have been anything but flexible. In September, 6-year-old Zachary Christie was suspended for five days after the Cub Scout brought a camping tool that's a combination knife, fork and spoon to his school in Newark, Del. The school said Christie violated the district's zero-tolerance policy on violence against other students, even though Christie hadn't threatened anyone.

And last month, Matthew Whalen, 17, of Lansingburgh, N.Y., was suspended for having a 2-inch knife as part of a survival kit he kept in his car. The district superintendent extended the Eagle Scout's punishment from five days to 20 days because, in his words, "Sometimes young people do things they may not see as serious. We look at any possession of any type of knife as serious."

Nobody but a school bureaucrat seriously thinks that Whalen's 2-inch knife poses a threat. Rather than keeping students safe, such mindless enforcement only undermines respect for discipline.

The good news is that after much public outcry, Zachary's punishment was rescinded and his record expunged. And many school districts are revising their discipline policies as a result of his and other cases.

In a sane world, Whalen's story should have ended the same way. Instead, Lansingburgh school officials dug in and have refused to budge. Whalen's parents, naturally, hired a lawyer. The school board heard the family's appeal on Oct. 27 and is expected to make a decision in the next few days.

Absent a media circus, zero-tolerance policies foreclose the possibility of common-sense solutions. Twenty years ago, the remedy for a vast majority of these cases would have been simple: Confiscate the offending object, call the parents, explain the problem and extract a promise from the student to never do it again.

Now, as often as not, the phone call is to the cops. When Lansingburgh High School officials called the police about Whalen's knife, the officer who responded explained that Whalen had broken no laws. The school suspended him anyway. Two decades ago, officials would have let Whalen's tiny knife pass without a second thought.

More states would do well to set clear rules and make room for common sense. And students and teachers shouldn't have to wonder whether the kid in the back of the class is packing heat. But remember: Zero-tolerance rules didn't stop the Columbine killers.

Reform may be a tall order. But zero-tolerance rules shouldn't serve as an excuse for officials to absolve themselves from using their intelligence. If nothing else, it's a terrible lesson and a poor example for kids.

Ben Boychuk is a syndicated columnist and fellow of the Claremont Institute's Golden State Center for State and Local Government. www.claremont.org