In the Appalachian foothills of North Georgia sits Gainesville High School, with a sweeping curved avenue boasting lots of full-sized American flags on tall poles. They were waving nobly, fully horizontal on a windy spring evening. Had I known the high school would inspire a column, I would have counted those babies—to give a full and factual impression of just how patriotic a place it must be. I can tell you there were more than 10, just to give you an idea. The scene conjured sounds of the fife and drums.
I went to speak at a Board of Education meeting, about their Internet filter. For nearly every kind of government body meeting, people can just sign up to speak, usually for three minutes. I love and treasure that. Nobody puts you on a blacklist if you have an unpopular opinion.
Many more people than usual had signed up to speak that night. Reporters were there. Gainesville High is considering implementing random drug testing of students, and the room was full of individuals eager to give their two cents on this issue.
First the board had a presentation from their lawyer, from central casting—tall and ruddy—who said school drug testing has been found constitutional if it is completely random and if no disciplinary consequences result, that is nobody gets suspended or expelled and thus deprived of academic services over a positive test. So the school would choose names at random, only of students engaged in extracurricular activities, and the punishment for a positive drug test would be barring the student from the activity.
Then the citizens spoke. One said drug testing gives kids a tool to resist peer pressure, a way to decline—“so sorry, I cannot ingest this controlled substance, I’m on the debate team.” Another said kids are very good at hiding their drug use, and testing is the only way to save them from their own sneaky ways. Another said if you threaten them with taking away something they love, that will motivate them. A gentleman in front of me turned around and murmured, “That’s the parent’s prerogative.”
This is wrong.
I know a stable, responsible, nondrug-using man very well. He has a sensitive temperament, gentle and caring. He is an athlete. When he was a boy, his parents were recreating Edward Albee’s play “Whose Afraid of Virginia Wolfe,” fighting bitterly. He left the house every morning before dawn to go to swim practice. He competed in swim meets, setting a record in one race. His coach and his teammates supported him like fathers and brothers, and sports got him through some tough years. He indulged in controlled substances at times.
Suppose that boy had been snared by a random drug test. What direction might he have gone in? If the unwholesome part of his coping strategy made him lose the wholesome part, would he still have gotten through his teen years intact?
Then there is the disrespect.
I have had many jobs in my career, and none of them required a drug test. None of my jobs involved piloting airplanes. None of these student’s extracurricular activities involve piloting airplanes either.
If I were faced with such an invasive and degrading process, I would have to find another job. But students cannot find another job. This is it. They are stuck. Which is why we need not treat them like prison inmates.
So I say to the school board’s lawyer, phooey. It might be constitutional, but it is definitely un-American.
[email protected]
I went to speak at a Board of Education meeting, about their Internet filter. For nearly every kind of government body meeting, people can just sign up to speak, usually for three minutes. I love and treasure that. Nobody puts you on a blacklist if you have an unpopular opinion.
Many more people than usual had signed up to speak that night. Reporters were there. Gainesville High is considering implementing random drug testing of students, and the room was full of individuals eager to give their two cents on this issue.
First the board had a presentation from their lawyer, from central casting—tall and ruddy—who said school drug testing has been found constitutional if it is completely random and if no disciplinary consequences result, that is nobody gets suspended or expelled and thus deprived of academic services over a positive test. So the school would choose names at random, only of students engaged in extracurricular activities, and the punishment for a positive drug test would be barring the student from the activity.
Then the citizens spoke. One said drug testing gives kids a tool to resist peer pressure, a way to decline—“so sorry, I cannot ingest this controlled substance, I’m on the debate team.” Another said kids are very good at hiding their drug use, and testing is the only way to save them from their own sneaky ways. Another said if you threaten them with taking away something they love, that will motivate them. A gentleman in front of me turned around and murmured, “That’s the parent’s prerogative.”
This is wrong.
I know a stable, responsible, nondrug-using man very well. He has a sensitive temperament, gentle and caring. He is an athlete. When he was a boy, his parents were recreating Edward Albee’s play “Whose Afraid of Virginia Wolfe,” fighting bitterly. He left the house every morning before dawn to go to swim practice. He competed in swim meets, setting a record in one race. His coach and his teammates supported him like fathers and brothers, and sports got him through some tough years. He indulged in controlled substances at times.
Suppose that boy had been snared by a random drug test. What direction might he have gone in? If the unwholesome part of his coping strategy made him lose the wholesome part, would he still have gotten through his teen years intact?
Then there is the disrespect.
I have had many jobs in my career, and none of them required a drug test. None of my jobs involved piloting airplanes. None of these student’s extracurricular activities involve piloting airplanes either.
If I were faced with such an invasive and degrading process, I would have to find another job. But students cannot find another job. This is it. They are stuck. Which is why we need not treat them like prison inmates.
So I say to the school board’s lawyer, phooey. It might be constitutional, but it is definitely un-American.
[email protected]
