Last December I wrote about the controversy which ensued when the superintendent of the Round Rock School District pulled popular novel ttyl from the shelves of middle school libraries and relocated it to the high schools. The parents cried out that the book was vulgar and pornographic. The author cried out that her book was being censored. At the time, I argued that not making a book available in a library did not amount to censorship and also argued in favor of the free speech rights of the parents to complain about the book. However, I reserved judgment on the merits of the book itself because I had not read it. Now I have read it and I don't think it's a bad book at all; it just covers some mature subjects.
Here is the high level view. No way is the book pornographic. One definition of pornography that I found on dictionary.com is: "creative activity (writing or pictures or films etc.) of no literary or artistic value other than to stimulate sexual desire." That is pretty close to the Supreme Court definition of obscenity, so I will go with that. Under this definition, ttyl is not pornographic at all because it is not intended to stimulate sexual desire and has significant literary and artistic value. While the primary conflicts in the book involve sexually charged situations, they are used as a plot device to show the dangers of seeking validation from outside sources and to show the importance of friends watching out for each other. Or to put it another way, the book is a great big flashing sign saying WATCH OUT!!!!
Confused? Let me start with some background. ttyl is the story of three 15 year old girls starting 10th grade. It is told entirely through instant messages between the girls in which they talk about their hopes and fears and the activities in their lives. While the girls have been best friends since seventh grade, they each have a trait which causes them to seek approval outside of their group and frequently puts the girls at odds with each other.
Spoiler Alert: The summary below reveals some key plot twists.
Angela is the boy-crazy one. She seeks validation from boys and fantasizes about having a sexual relationship with a boy she has just met who she is convinced is THE ONE, much to her friends' concern. When another girl poaches her boyfriend, she becomes the psycho ex-girlfriend, stalking the boy so that they can "just talk."
Maddie is constantly down on herself and craves approval from the mean queen bee cheerleader. When she ditches her friends on Halloween to go to a college party with her new "friend," she ends up drunk and dancing for the college boys; a hangover and incriminating pictures ensue.
Zoe is the studious good girl with ultra-strict parents. She craves the approval of her teacher, who just happens to be a 24 year old single man. When her teacher invites her to Christian fellowship events and to church,her parents approve. However, the teacher, whether innocently or not, develops an inappropriate interest in his pupil. Zoe and her speedo-clad teacher end up in a hot tub together, where she must be rescued by her friends (in one of the more comic scenes of the book).
In the end, the girls are there for each other and the most serious consequences are averted. Along the way, the girls' friendship is tested. At any given moment, one of the girls is caught in the middle of an argument between the other two.
From a moral standpoint, the book is a good cautionary tale. The story's focus necessarily results in mature subjects being discussed. The presentation of the story is mature as well. The girls talk frankly among themselves, often using exaggeration to make a point, and they cuss a lot. I could have done without as much salty language (where is the episode of Spongbob that talks about sentence enhancers when you need it?). However, as a sometime soccer coach for high school girls, I remember very well the struggle to keep the conversation G-rated. If that is how they talk around adults, I can imagine how they talk in private.
I don't think that the fact that the girls in the book talk about body parts, desires and dangerous situations makes the book pornographic. My younger daughter attends middle school religious ed classes which include discussion of sexual predators and how to protect yourself. There is a sort of parallel to the subject matter of ttyl, except that the book's lessons are intuitive rather than direct.
I can see where some Christians would be offended by this book. One of the main subplots is about a teacher who talks a good game about faith and spiritual things, but uses church as a means to try to get closer to a young girl. The religion as seduction theme could be very discomforting. However, I don't think that the book is anti-Christian. In order for the teacher to get close to Zoe, he has to be an authority figure who her parents will trust. While the author could have chosen someone other than a Christian to play this role, the choice is a legitimate one. If I am being too subtle here, the point is that just because a Christian character falls for and tries to seduce an underage girl does not mean that the author is claiming that all Christians are hypocritical perverts.
The IM format and language (full of shorthand notations) takes a bit of getting used to. I had trouble getting into the book at first, especially when the author was introducing the characters and the plot had not really started to unfold. I asked my daughters about this. My 16 year old daughter rolled her eyes and told me that the book should have written in text messages, since no one IM's anymore. My 14 year old daughter (who loves Shakespeare) thought it read like a play.
I would not have a problem with either one of my daughters reading the book. I can see where it would be a bit too mature for sixth graders. However, I have a hard time drawing the line between too mature and too late. Girls grow up pretty fast between sixth and eighth grade. I don't have a problem with the fact that ttyl is in my daughter's middle school library. Perhaps it would be appropriate to restrict the book from sixth graders, but keeping out of the library altogether seems a bit much (although I totally support the right of someone who disagrees with me to express their opinion).
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
A Holy Week Journey: One Family, Eight Days, Four Religions
Holy Week is the most serious observance of the Christian year. Whereas Christmas consists of a little bit of church in the middle of a secular bacchanalia, Holy Week can be a serious religious journey for those who choose to participate. Holy Week also coincides with the Jewish Passover, so that the season is doubly profound. Religious holidays at our house are more complicated now that we belong to different denominations. While the Lutheran and Catholic churches are similar in many respects, the logistics of observing both can be a bit daunting.
Holy Week consists of the eight days from Palm Sunday through Easter. This year, parts of our family participated in observances from four different religions and denominations.
Palm Sunday
The week started on Palm Sunday. I attended the Lutheran church by myself, while Val and Stephanie went to their Catholic church. Palm Sunday is a preview of Holy Week. It begins with the procession of palms into the church and features the reading of the passion Gospel which leads up to the crucifixion. The music captures this contrast with "All Glory, Laud and Honor" leading in and "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord" ending.
Passover
On Wednesday night, Stephanie and I attended a passover seder at the home of one of the lawyers in my firm. The seder was almost a firm event, with five families of lawyers and employees attending along with two families of clients. Like many Jewish observances, this was held in the home and featured a hearty meal. The home setting made it more comfortable for the Christians like Stephanie and me. It was a combination of religious ceremony and socializing. The contrasts were interesting. There was a lot of singing, including both the traditional Hebrew from the Haggadah, and sillier songs in English, such as the Eight Days of Passover. There were the traditional religious symbols of passover, such as the bitter herb, the four cups of wine and the matzoh. However, there was almost an irreverent attitude toward rote recitation of the traditional "Maxwell House Haggadah." At one point, after several glasses of wine, while listening to Howard chant in Hebrew, I had a feeling of being in another place and time. For a Christian, the shared symbolism of passover and the last supper was very meaningful. Stephanie and I also had a lot of fun.
Holy Thursday
Thursday night began the Triduum. I did not know this before, but the Thursday, Friday and Saturday before Easter are not part of Lent in the Catholic Church. They are a separate three day season inbetween Lent and Easter. The three days consist of Holy Thursday commemorating the Last Supper, Good Friday marking the crucifixion and the Easter Vigil.
I took Stephanie to the Holy Thursday and Good Friday services at St. Catherine of Sienna Catholic Church. Val works nights so that she was not able to go with us. Stephanie is still at an age where she takes church seriously, so that it was a good time for father-daughter bonding. Holy Thursday ended with a candlelight procession taking the communion representing Jesus out of the sanctuary into the day chapel. All of the congregation filed out holding candles and lined up along with walkway. It tooks a long time for everyone to process out and for the group containing the priest and the cross to wind its way along. The long trail of hundreds of candles lining the way for the procession of the cross was very profound.
While Stephanie and I were at the Catholic Church and Val was batching paperwork at the IRS, Kristen attended a Jehovah's Witness meeting with friends. The two boys who are at the center of one of Kristen's circles of friends are Jehovah's Witnesses. Because one of Kristen's best friends is dating one of them, she was invited and Kristen went along for support. This particular meeting is called the Memorial and it is the Jehovah's Witness version of the last supper. It was serious enough that Kristen and Raven both bought dresses so that they would be properly attired. They are at the age where peer pressure is a lot more effective than parental demands. Kristen said that the meeting was "interesting" but offered few details. I had to go online to learn that the Memorial is the one time of the year when Jehovah's Witnesses celebrate communion and that only a very few (about 9,000 out of 17 million) actually take communion. In some meetings, the bread and wine are passed around without anyone being able to partake.
Good Friday
On Friday night, Stephanie and I went to the Good Friday service at St. Catherine's. All I really remember is that they chanted the entire Passion gospel and that it seemed to go on for an hour.
Easter Vigil
Saturday was the third night of the Triduum. Valeska could finally join us. This is a major service in the Catholic church because it is when they receive new members. Valeska was confirmed at this service two years ago. The service was rich in symbolism. It began outside with the lighting of the Paschal candle from a fire. The priest and the congregation processed into the church and candles were lit from the Paschal candle. The sight of the darkened church being lit up from the candles represented the light of Christ entering the world and was a powerful image. The service was so long that they had an intermission after the first hour and a half. There was a lot of repetition in the service, so that it was almost hypnotic. There is one hymn called the Liturgy of the Saints which is basically a chant asking various saints to pray for us. Also, there was a refrain which was sung after each candidate was baptised or confirmed. After 25 times, it was still meaningful because it was being sung for each person individually. The service ended with an Easter hymn. It was one of the few hymns that involved straight congregational singing as opposed to a leader singing the verses and the congregation singing the refrain. People started filing out and talking once the priest recessed which seemed odd, since the hymn had two verses left to go.
Easter Sunday
On Sunday morning, I returned to St. Martin's Lutheran where my Holy Week journey had begun. Val, Kristen, Val's mom and I went together. We were late because Kristen took forever getting ready, so we had to sit in the overflow seating in the narthex. The Lutheran service was heavy on music. There was a brass ensemble which caused the church to ring out with song. There were many joyful hymns to sing and everyone sang, even in the overflow area.
Final Thoughts
After going back and forth between different faiths, I have a few thoughts. The Catholic tradition appeals to all of the senses. Two of the three nights of the Triduum featured candlelight and two featured incense as well. The service was a combination of sight, sound and smell. The Catholic service was long on repetition. Sometimes this took on a hypnotic, almost mystical state and other times it was just boring. The Catholic music relied heavily on the choir to lead without a lot of outright congregational singing. Also, the Catholics have an almost anarchic sense of following the printed order of service, changing the order or skipping elements at will (although they never omitted anything essential). Finally, the Catholic church has an almost exotic immigrant quality to it. The two priests at St. Catherine's are Irish and Indian and speak with very distinct accents. The faithful represent every shade of America with stolid Germans sitting next to rambunctious Hispanic families, African Americans and Asian Americans, young and old.
The Lutheran service is very orderly. It follows the order of service precisely. While the Lutheran service closely follows that of the Catholic, the main difference to me is the music. The Lutheran music seems more democratic, with choir, instruments and congregration all serving as co-creators of the mighty sound. It is said that Martin Luther wrote hymns from German beer-drinking songs and the Lutheran hymns (even when they are the exact same songs as the Catholic hymns) have a full-throated, amost lusty feel to them. The central role of congregational singing was made clear when the organ trailed off and stopped playing on the third verse of a hymn, leaving the congregation to pick it up a capella.
Holy Week consists of the eight days from Palm Sunday through Easter. This year, parts of our family participated in observances from four different religions and denominations.
Palm Sunday
The week started on Palm Sunday. I attended the Lutheran church by myself, while Val and Stephanie went to their Catholic church. Palm Sunday is a preview of Holy Week. It begins with the procession of palms into the church and features the reading of the passion Gospel which leads up to the crucifixion. The music captures this contrast with "All Glory, Laud and Honor" leading in and "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord" ending.
Passover
On Wednesday night, Stephanie and I attended a passover seder at the home of one of the lawyers in my firm. The seder was almost a firm event, with five families of lawyers and employees attending along with two families of clients. Like many Jewish observances, this was held in the home and featured a hearty meal. The home setting made it more comfortable for the Christians like Stephanie and me. It was a combination of religious ceremony and socializing. The contrasts were interesting. There was a lot of singing, including both the traditional Hebrew from the Haggadah, and sillier songs in English, such as the Eight Days of Passover. There were the traditional religious symbols of passover, such as the bitter herb, the four cups of wine and the matzoh. However, there was almost an irreverent attitude toward rote recitation of the traditional "Maxwell House Haggadah." At one point, after several glasses of wine, while listening to Howard chant in Hebrew, I had a feeling of being in another place and time. For a Christian, the shared symbolism of passover and the last supper was very meaningful. Stephanie and I also had a lot of fun.
Holy Thursday
Thursday night began the Triduum. I did not know this before, but the Thursday, Friday and Saturday before Easter are not part of Lent in the Catholic Church. They are a separate three day season inbetween Lent and Easter. The three days consist of Holy Thursday commemorating the Last Supper, Good Friday marking the crucifixion and the Easter Vigil.
I took Stephanie to the Holy Thursday and Good Friday services at St. Catherine of Sienna Catholic Church. Val works nights so that she was not able to go with us. Stephanie is still at an age where she takes church seriously, so that it was a good time for father-daughter bonding. Holy Thursday ended with a candlelight procession taking the communion representing Jesus out of the sanctuary into the day chapel. All of the congregation filed out holding candles and lined up along with walkway. It tooks a long time for everyone to process out and for the group containing the priest and the cross to wind its way along. The long trail of hundreds of candles lining the way for the procession of the cross was very profound.
While Stephanie and I were at the Catholic Church and Val was batching paperwork at the IRS, Kristen attended a Jehovah's Witness meeting with friends. The two boys who are at the center of one of Kristen's circles of friends are Jehovah's Witnesses. Because one of Kristen's best friends is dating one of them, she was invited and Kristen went along for support. This particular meeting is called the Memorial and it is the Jehovah's Witness version of the last supper. It was serious enough that Kristen and Raven both bought dresses so that they would be properly attired. They are at the age where peer pressure is a lot more effective than parental demands. Kristen said that the meeting was "interesting" but offered few details. I had to go online to learn that the Memorial is the one time of the year when Jehovah's Witnesses celebrate communion and that only a very few (about 9,000 out of 17 million) actually take communion. In some meetings, the bread and wine are passed around without anyone being able to partake.
Good Friday
On Friday night, Stephanie and I went to the Good Friday service at St. Catherine's. All I really remember is that they chanted the entire Passion gospel and that it seemed to go on for an hour.
Easter Vigil
Saturday was the third night of the Triduum. Valeska could finally join us. This is a major service in the Catholic church because it is when they receive new members. Valeska was confirmed at this service two years ago. The service was rich in symbolism. It began outside with the lighting of the Paschal candle from a fire. The priest and the congregation processed into the church and candles were lit from the Paschal candle. The sight of the darkened church being lit up from the candles represented the light of Christ entering the world and was a powerful image. The service was so long that they had an intermission after the first hour and a half. There was a lot of repetition in the service, so that it was almost hypnotic. There is one hymn called the Liturgy of the Saints which is basically a chant asking various saints to pray for us. Also, there was a refrain which was sung after each candidate was baptised or confirmed. After 25 times, it was still meaningful because it was being sung for each person individually. The service ended with an Easter hymn. It was one of the few hymns that involved straight congregational singing as opposed to a leader singing the verses and the congregation singing the refrain. People started filing out and talking once the priest recessed which seemed odd, since the hymn had two verses left to go.
Easter Sunday
On Sunday morning, I returned to St. Martin's Lutheran where my Holy Week journey had begun. Val, Kristen, Val's mom and I went together. We were late because Kristen took forever getting ready, so we had to sit in the overflow seating in the narthex. The Lutheran service was heavy on music. There was a brass ensemble which caused the church to ring out with song. There were many joyful hymns to sing and everyone sang, even in the overflow area.
Final Thoughts
After going back and forth between different faiths, I have a few thoughts. The Catholic tradition appeals to all of the senses. Two of the three nights of the Triduum featured candlelight and two featured incense as well. The service was a combination of sight, sound and smell. The Catholic service was long on repetition. Sometimes this took on a hypnotic, almost mystical state and other times it was just boring. The Catholic music relied heavily on the choir to lead without a lot of outright congregational singing. Also, the Catholics have an almost anarchic sense of following the printed order of service, changing the order or skipping elements at will (although they never omitted anything essential). Finally, the Catholic church has an almost exotic immigrant quality to it. The two priests at St. Catherine's are Irish and Indian and speak with very distinct accents. The faithful represent every shade of America with stolid Germans sitting next to rambunctious Hispanic families, African Americans and Asian Americans, young and old.
The Lutheran service is very orderly. It follows the order of service precisely. While the Lutheran service closely follows that of the Catholic, the main difference to me is the music. The Lutheran music seems more democratic, with choir, instruments and congregration all serving as co-creators of the mighty sound. It is said that Martin Luther wrote hymns from German beer-drinking songs and the Lutheran hymns (even when they are the exact same songs as the Catholic hymns) have a full-throated, amost lusty feel to them. The central role of congregational singing was made clear when the organ trailed off and stopped playing on the third verse of a hymn, leaving the congregation to pick it up a capella.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Saving Taylor Swift
One of the perils of radio stations playing the same song over and over again is that you might actually pay attention to the lyrics. Taylor Swift's "Love Story" has been all over the airwaves lately. The 19 year old country singer has scored a major cross-over hit with her song about a modern day Romeo & Juliet. The song is a sugary confection sung by a woman with a passionate voice. However, the Juliet in this song sits around passively waiting for the men in her life to take charge.
In the song, her daddy tells Romeo to stay away and she reacts by crying and begging him not to go. In each chorus, Juliet cries out "Romeo save me." Finally, in the end Romeo says: "marry me Juliet/You'll never have to be alone/I love you and that's all I really know/I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress/It's a love story, baby just say yes."
The strong characters here are the dad who gives commands about who can see his daughter and Romeo who summons up the courage to talk to him so that he can protect Juliet from having to be alone. Meanwhile, Juliet sits around crying and waiting to be saved.
It's probably a bit silly to pick on a romantic song with a happy ending. However, as the father of two daughters, I would hate for them to get the message that their role in life is to passively wait around to be saved. There is a great scene in Shrek the Third where the princesses are captured by the villains. When asked what they are going to do about it, they sigh and wait to be rescued. Not willing to take captivity sitting down, the queen head-butts her way through a stone wall and leads the princesses out to kick bad guy butt. Watching Snow White and Cinderella fight back is not only entertaining, but it sends a good message about strong women. I hope that my daughters learn that there is more to life than waiting to be rescued by a guy.
In the song, her daddy tells Romeo to stay away and she reacts by crying and begging him not to go. In each chorus, Juliet cries out "Romeo save me." Finally, in the end Romeo says: "marry me Juliet/You'll never have to be alone/I love you and that's all I really know/I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress/It's a love story, baby just say yes."
The strong characters here are the dad who gives commands about who can see his daughter and Romeo who summons up the courage to talk to him so that he can protect Juliet from having to be alone. Meanwhile, Juliet sits around crying and waiting to be saved.
It's probably a bit silly to pick on a romantic song with a happy ending. However, as the father of two daughters, I would hate for them to get the message that their role in life is to passively wait around to be saved. There is a great scene in Shrek the Third where the princesses are captured by the villains. When asked what they are going to do about it, they sigh and wait to be rescued. Not willing to take captivity sitting down, the queen head-butts her way through a stone wall and leads the princesses out to kick bad guy butt. Watching Snow White and Cinderella fight back is not only entertaining, but it sends a good message about strong women. I hope that my daughters learn that there is more to life than waiting to be rescued by a guy.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Authority Figures Going Way Too Far
Two cases in federal court demonstrate a shockingly arrogant attitude by government officials toward 13 year old girls in their undergarments. In one case, a 13-year-old girl was forced to submit to a strip search based on vague suspicions that she might be concealing ibuprofen in her clothes or underwear. In another case, two girls who were photographed in their bras when they were 13 are being threatened with felony prosecution for child pornography. These cases show an unhealthy obsession with young girls' underwear and a police state mentality.
Savana and the Creepy Asst. Principal
On April 21, 2009, the Supreme Court will hear arguments in Safford Unified School District No. 1 v. Redding. In that case, middle school officials were concerned that students were bringing controlled substances onto campus. When a boy told authorities that he had received ibuprofen from a girl named Marissa, school officials searched Marissa, who was found to have prescription strength ibuprofen in her pockets. Marissa asserted that she had received the pills from Savana, an honor student with an unblemished record. Marisa also stated that she had borrowed a binder containing cigarettes, a lighter and knives from Savana.
The Asst. Principal called Savana into his office and asked her about the binder. Savana admitted that she had loaned the binder to Marissa, but that the contraband was not hers. The Asst.Principal then showed her the pills, which Savana denied knowing anything about. The Asst. Principal asked to search Savana's belongings, which did not turn up anything. At this point, the Asst. Principal asked two female employees to take Savana to the nurse's office and strip search her. Savana was forced to remove her clothes except for her underwear and then pull out her bra and underpants so that school employees could look inside. They did not find anything in their search.
Needless to say, Savana's parents were upset. When the school didn't see anything wrong with what happened, they filed suit. Amazingly, a district court judge and two court of appeals judges saw nothing wrong with the search. However, an opinion by the entire Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals reversed the decision, finding that Savana's constitutional rights had been violated.
The Supreme Court will be asked to decide whether students subject themselves to invasive and embarassing searches based upon the vaguest of suspicions. The School Board of Safford Unified School District #1 should be asking itself a more fundamental question: why would they employ anyone who is obsessed with the idea that 13 year olds might be hiding ibuprofen in their bras? Isn't this just insane? Once a search of the student's backpack and pockets failed to turn up anything incriminating, why would the Asst. Principal think that a search of a young girl's private areas was justified?
Sexting in Pennsylvania
Meanwhile, on a hot summer night, two 13 year old girls stripped down to their underwear. A friend took a photo of them in their bras as one talked on the phone and another one flashed a peace sign. Another girl was photographed topless while emerging from the shower. Two years later, school officials concerned about sexting began confiscating cell phones. The photos of the girls were found on the phones, along with other photos of girls who were nude, semi-nude or wearing bathing suits. These photos were passed on to District Attorney Skumanick.
The District Attorney sent a letter to the parents of 20 students: accept probation and successfully complete a re-education course or be charged with child pornography. All of the parents accepted the offer, except for the parents of the three girls shown in the photographs. They had neither made the photographs nor distributed them nor possessed them. The photographs did not fit any usual definition of pornography. In any reasonable sense of the word, these girls were the victims rather than the perpetrators.
Rather than giving in to intimidation, the parents of the three girls depicted in the photographs contacted the ACLU, which filed suit on their behalf. While any parent would concede that 13 year old girls should not allow themselves to be photographed without all of their clothes on, this case is just plain baffling. In order to protect underage girls from being exploited, the district attorney has threatened to prosecute the very girls whose images were distributed. This is no longer about protection, but retribution. The girls acted foolishly and the district attorney demands that they participate in a re-education process or face felony prosecution. The DA is on a power trip which would make Stalin nod with approval.
Summing It Up
These are two cases of 13 year old girls in their underwear. In one case, the school administration demands that an innocent girl strip down and be degraded. In another case, an overzealous prosecutor demands that girls be punished for failing to stay covered up. In both cases, the authority figures are the aggressors and the teenage girls are the victims. It is hard to admit this, but these are cases where the 9th Circuit and the ACLU are the good guys, protecting the privacy of young girls both innocent and risque.
Savana and the Creepy Asst. Principal
On April 21, 2009, the Supreme Court will hear arguments in Safford Unified School District No. 1 v. Redding. In that case, middle school officials were concerned that students were bringing controlled substances onto campus. When a boy told authorities that he had received ibuprofen from a girl named Marissa, school officials searched Marissa, who was found to have prescription strength ibuprofen in her pockets. Marissa asserted that she had received the pills from Savana, an honor student with an unblemished record. Marisa also stated that she had borrowed a binder containing cigarettes, a lighter and knives from Savana.
The Asst. Principal called Savana into his office and asked her about the binder. Savana admitted that she had loaned the binder to Marissa, but that the contraband was not hers. The Asst.Principal then showed her the pills, which Savana denied knowing anything about. The Asst. Principal asked to search Savana's belongings, which did not turn up anything. At this point, the Asst. Principal asked two female employees to take Savana to the nurse's office and strip search her. Savana was forced to remove her clothes except for her underwear and then pull out her bra and underpants so that school employees could look inside. They did not find anything in their search.
Needless to say, Savana's parents were upset. When the school didn't see anything wrong with what happened, they filed suit. Amazingly, a district court judge and two court of appeals judges saw nothing wrong with the search. However, an opinion by the entire Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals reversed the decision, finding that Savana's constitutional rights had been violated.
The Supreme Court will be asked to decide whether students subject themselves to invasive and embarassing searches based upon the vaguest of suspicions. The School Board of Safford Unified School District #1 should be asking itself a more fundamental question: why would they employ anyone who is obsessed with the idea that 13 year olds might be hiding ibuprofen in their bras? Isn't this just insane? Once a search of the student's backpack and pockets failed to turn up anything incriminating, why would the Asst. Principal think that a search of a young girl's private areas was justified?
Sexting in Pennsylvania
Meanwhile, on a hot summer night, two 13 year old girls stripped down to their underwear. A friend took a photo of them in their bras as one talked on the phone and another one flashed a peace sign. Another girl was photographed topless while emerging from the shower. Two years later, school officials concerned about sexting began confiscating cell phones. The photos of the girls were found on the phones, along with other photos of girls who were nude, semi-nude or wearing bathing suits. These photos were passed on to District Attorney Skumanick.
The District Attorney sent a letter to the parents of 20 students: accept probation and successfully complete a re-education course or be charged with child pornography. All of the parents accepted the offer, except for the parents of the three girls shown in the photographs. They had neither made the photographs nor distributed them nor possessed them. The photographs did not fit any usual definition of pornography. In any reasonable sense of the word, these girls were the victims rather than the perpetrators.
Rather than giving in to intimidation, the parents of the three girls depicted in the photographs contacted the ACLU, which filed suit on their behalf. While any parent would concede that 13 year old girls should not allow themselves to be photographed without all of their clothes on, this case is just plain baffling. In order to protect underage girls from being exploited, the district attorney has threatened to prosecute the very girls whose images were distributed. This is no longer about protection, but retribution. The girls acted foolishly and the district attorney demands that they participate in a re-education process or face felony prosecution. The DA is on a power trip which would make Stalin nod with approval.
Summing It Up
These are two cases of 13 year old girls in their underwear. In one case, the school administration demands that an innocent girl strip down and be degraded. In another case, an overzealous prosecutor demands that girls be punished for failing to stay covered up. In both cases, the authority figures are the aggressors and the teenage girls are the victims. It is hard to admit this, but these are cases where the 9th Circuit and the ACLU are the good guys, protecting the privacy of young girls both innocent and risque.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
How Not to Select a Judge
Texans get to vote for a lot of offices from President of the United States down to County Constables. Many elected officials, such as Governor, Lt. Governor, State Senator, State Representative, County Judge and County Commissioner set policy. When voting on these offices, voters choose between competing policies and philosophies as well as the merits of the individual. However, there are a whole raft of offices which do not set policy and where the main qualification is the ability to do the job. In a thoughtful editorial which ran in today's Austin American Statesman, Chief Justice Wallace Jefferson of the Texas Supreme Court reminds us that electing judges is a pretty random way to find qualified and impartial arbiters of the law. "You probably don't know me but . . .," Austin American Statesman, p. F3 (March 15, 2009).
Justice Jefferson is brutally honest about the fact that he could have been elected to his position despite being an incompetent boob merely because he was on the same ballot as John McCain. (For the record, Justice Jefferson is eminently well qualified, demonstrating that a flawed system, like a stopped watch, can be right some of the time). Despite the fact that he has been on the statewide ballot three times, 86% of Texans have "never heard of" him. How informed of a decision can voters make when only one in seven have even heard of the candidate?
The Republican primary elections for the Third Court of Appeals in Austin provide a good example of why electing judges is a bad idea. In 2002, Lee Yeakel was the Republican incumbent on the Third Court of Appeals. He was well respected as a judge and was active in the Republican Party, having served as Chairman of the Travis County Republican Party. As a result, he should have been a shoo-in to receive his party's nomination to run again. However, an unknown named Ken Law filed to run against him. In this case, the catchy name prevailed over the qualified judge. Justice Law turned out to be a mediocre judge and was defeated for re-election in 2008. Judge Yeakel's consolation prize was that he was appointed to be a United States District Judge in Austin, where he continues to enjoy an excellent reputation as a jurist.
In 2004, the Republican candidates for an open seat on the Third Court of Appeals were Ernest Garcia and Bill Green. Ernest had previously served as a Travis County District Judge and had been narrowly defeated for re-election despite running as a Republican in an overwhelmingly Democratic County. I don't remember who Bill Green was, so I can't really comment on his qualifications. In the same primary, there was a race between Steven Wayne Smith and Paul Green for the Texas Supreme Court. Justice Smith had been an unpopular judge and there was a concerted campaign by Republican leaders to unseat him. Unfortunately, some Republicans were confused about which Green to vote for (with perhaps a little prejudice against the Spanish-surnamed candidate thrown in) so that another qualified candidate was defeated by someone with a more generic name.
I practice in United States Bankruptcy Court. Our judges are appointed through a merit selection process. Positions are advertised so that anyone may apply. A merit selection committee composed of judges and practitioners reviews the applications and conducts interviews and then sends its recommendations to the Court of Appeals, which makes the appointment. It is a pretty good system. Nearly all bankruptcy judges had actually practiced bankruptcy law prior to being appointed and many were recognized as nationally prominent attorneys before being selected. While it would be difficult to replicate this particular merit selection system (with judges appointing judges) outside of a specialized court, it is an example of how merit selection delivers consistently qualified candidates.
Let's hope that Justice Jefferson gets some attention in his campaign for merit selection. However, this may be difficult, since 86% of the population has never heard of him.
Justice Jefferson is brutally honest about the fact that he could have been elected to his position despite being an incompetent boob merely because he was on the same ballot as John McCain. (For the record, Justice Jefferson is eminently well qualified, demonstrating that a flawed system, like a stopped watch, can be right some of the time). Despite the fact that he has been on the statewide ballot three times, 86% of Texans have "never heard of" him. How informed of a decision can voters make when only one in seven have even heard of the candidate?
The Republican primary elections for the Third Court of Appeals in Austin provide a good example of why electing judges is a bad idea. In 2002, Lee Yeakel was the Republican incumbent on the Third Court of Appeals. He was well respected as a judge and was active in the Republican Party, having served as Chairman of the Travis County Republican Party. As a result, he should have been a shoo-in to receive his party's nomination to run again. However, an unknown named Ken Law filed to run against him. In this case, the catchy name prevailed over the qualified judge. Justice Law turned out to be a mediocre judge and was defeated for re-election in 2008. Judge Yeakel's consolation prize was that he was appointed to be a United States District Judge in Austin, where he continues to enjoy an excellent reputation as a jurist.
In 2004, the Republican candidates for an open seat on the Third Court of Appeals were Ernest Garcia and Bill Green. Ernest had previously served as a Travis County District Judge and had been narrowly defeated for re-election despite running as a Republican in an overwhelmingly Democratic County. I don't remember who Bill Green was, so I can't really comment on his qualifications. In the same primary, there was a race between Steven Wayne Smith and Paul Green for the Texas Supreme Court. Justice Smith had been an unpopular judge and there was a concerted campaign by Republican leaders to unseat him. Unfortunately, some Republicans were confused about which Green to vote for (with perhaps a little prejudice against the Spanish-surnamed candidate thrown in) so that another qualified candidate was defeated by someone with a more generic name.
I practice in United States Bankruptcy Court. Our judges are appointed through a merit selection process. Positions are advertised so that anyone may apply. A merit selection committee composed of judges and practitioners reviews the applications and conducts interviews and then sends its recommendations to the Court of Appeals, which makes the appointment. It is a pretty good system. Nearly all bankruptcy judges had actually practiced bankruptcy law prior to being appointed and many were recognized as nationally prominent attorneys before being selected. While it would be difficult to replicate this particular merit selection system (with judges appointing judges) outside of a specialized court, it is an example of how merit selection delivers consistently qualified candidates.
Let's hope that Justice Jefferson gets some attention in his campaign for merit selection. However, this may be difficult, since 86% of the population has never heard of him.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Some People Have More Money Than Sense
This year we went to probably the nicest restaurant in Austin for Valentine's Day. It is so exclusive that we couldn't get in on Valentine's Day and ended up going on the 15th, which was okay because it was still Valentine's weekend. We got dressed up for the occasion and have the photo to prove it. If we are going to have a special date night, we want to make it, well, special. However, not everyone in Austin is as awed by a nice dinner at a classy restaurant as we are. While we were having our post-Valentine's celebration, another diner entered the room. The first thing that struck me was that he was wearing a baseball cap backwards. What was even more discordant was that he had to be at least as old as me. He was also wearing jeans and an untucked shirt. Upon being seated, he pulled out his phone and began chatting. Goodness knows that my parents didn't succeed in everything that they tried to teach me. However, I won't wear a hat inside a building and I certainly don't wear a baseball cap turned backwards in a five star dining establishment. No one else seemed to notice. Maybe it was Matthew McConaughey and they were just relieved that he was wearing clothes.
Confessions of a Plodder
I ran the 3M Half Marathon on January 25th. Given my slow finish, I guess that it is fitting that I am only just writing about it now, three weeks later. I am not a great athlete, but four years ago I decided to try a half marathon to see if I oculd do it. I finished without a heart attack, so I have come back to it each year. Last year, I had a personal best at 2 hours, 34 minutes.
How Not to Prepare
This year I did everything wrong, but still made it to the breakfast tacos at the end of the race. I try to work out on the eliptical or treadmill year round. However, I really slacked off during the fall. Then when it was time to start training seriously in November, I had a sore knee from refereeing, so I didn't want to push myself too hard. I never really made it to the level of training seriously. The furthest I made it in training was about eight and a half miles, which is a lot less than 13.1 miles. To make things worse, I signed up to referee the day before the race. Our club has a big tournament which is always the day before the race. I did three games back to back in cold, nasty weather. I don't think that helped me too much.
After finishing up my ill-advised refereeing gig, I returned to two pre-race rituals. The first is going out for pasta the night before the race. It is hard to eat pasta without drinking red wine, but it is a sacrifice I have learned to make before a big race. We tried to go to Spaghetti Warehouse downtown, but couldn't find a parking place that didn't charge $10. We finally went to Carabba's up north. Then we checked into a hotel by the start of the race. The race starts at 7am up near the Arboretum. I have found that it is much easier to spend the night at one of the hotels nearby and get a good night's rest than to get up at 5am and fight the race day traffic.
An Inauspicious Beginning
The morning of the race, I slept in and walked out the front door of the hotel at five minutes till seven. That gave me enough time to make my way to the back of the pack and do a little stretching. The first mile of the race is always hard to gauge. It is slightly uphill. I usually start huffing and puffing a bit as I get acclimated to the run. I finished the first mile in about 11 1/2 minutes, which was where I wanted to be.
However, the second mile was really bad. As we went under Hwy. 183 and started proceeding south on the access road, my quads started to burn. I eased up and did a very slow second mile. At that point, I knew that I would have to play it safe to finish.
Maybe It's Not So Bad After All
Miles three and four weren't too bad. I made up a little time as we winded our way through the neighborhoods of Northwest hills, following Mesa to Spicewood Springs. There was jugglers at the corner of Mesa and Spicewood Springs. One of the things that I like about this race is the pageantry of interesting people who line the course to urge the runners on. I let myself walk a bit while going over MoPac. By this point, I knew that I was almost at the five mile mark. The course loops through the Allandale neighborhood before reaching a midway point a little bit beyond Northcross mall. There is a really long stretch down Burnet which is mostly flat. I started running out of gas here and had to start walking more frequently.
The Worst Stretch
The worst part of the course is a stretch of North Loop between Burnet and Avenue F. In the space of 1.3 miles, there are three major hills. I had spent an afternoon doing this stretch over and over again so that I would be ready when the time came. It helped to an extent. I remembered every feature of the road. It starts with apartments on either side. There is a huge industrial building just before Lamar. After crossing Lamar, the course goes downhill a bit. I remembered that a guy had been breaking up concrete with a jackhammer in front of some apartments. I knew that there was a coffee shop a little ways ahead and pushed myself to keep going until there. I surprised myself and kept going until the boundary of a cemetary which also marked the start of the last hill. On the left was a frame house where some guys had been cooking hot dogs and drinking a beer and another identical house where a girl had been sitting in the driveway reading a book. However, in this case, knowledge was not power. Even though I knew what was ahead and was mentally prepared, I was rapidly tiring out. However, I was still able to keep up a rhythm of intervals between plodding running and walking. My efforts were rewarded when I made it past Room Service Vintage (my wife's favorite store in all of Austin and the source of many of our home's furnishings).
The Turning Point
After all the killer hills, the course turned south on Duval. From there, it was a straight shot down four miles to the finish. Of course, four miles is still a long way when you have been running for over two hours. Now that the course was a bit kinder, I could go longer periods of time without walking. After a little bit, I passed 51st street. Since the race ends at 15th, I could start counting down the blocks from there.
Just before the 12 mile mark, I crossed over 26th onto the UT campus. As I meandered past Darrell K. Royal Stadium, my weary brain thought that it looked more like a turreted castle than a football stadium. Orcs storming the battlements would not have looked out of place. Still I kept moving, slowly but surely. The mile through UT seemed to take forever. However, eventually I made it past the Santa Rita rig at the entrance to campus and could see the finish line four blocks away. I pushed my aching legs, telling myself that it would be unworthy to walk with the end in sight.
The End
As I approached the finish line, I heard the announcer mangle my name. Then it was over. Someone handed me my medal and a water bottle as I staggered along on depleted legs. I smiled when I saw Val and Stephanie waiting for me. Finally, I made it to the most important part: the tent where they were serving free Rudy's breakfast tacos. My final time was 2 hours 50 minutes. I was fully 16 minutes slower than last year. I finished behind 95% of the 5,000 runners who turned out that morning. However, I finished.
How Not to Prepare
This year I did everything wrong, but still made it to the breakfast tacos at the end of the race. I try to work out on the eliptical or treadmill year round. However, I really slacked off during the fall. Then when it was time to start training seriously in November, I had a sore knee from refereeing, so I didn't want to push myself too hard. I never really made it to the level of training seriously. The furthest I made it in training was about eight and a half miles, which is a lot less than 13.1 miles. To make things worse, I signed up to referee the day before the race. Our club has a big tournament which is always the day before the race. I did three games back to back in cold, nasty weather. I don't think that helped me too much.
After finishing up my ill-advised refereeing gig, I returned to two pre-race rituals. The first is going out for pasta the night before the race. It is hard to eat pasta without drinking red wine, but it is a sacrifice I have learned to make before a big race. We tried to go to Spaghetti Warehouse downtown, but couldn't find a parking place that didn't charge $10. We finally went to Carabba's up north. Then we checked into a hotel by the start of the race. The race starts at 7am up near the Arboretum. I have found that it is much easier to spend the night at one of the hotels nearby and get a good night's rest than to get up at 5am and fight the race day traffic.
An Inauspicious Beginning
The morning of the race, I slept in and walked out the front door of the hotel at five minutes till seven. That gave me enough time to make my way to the back of the pack and do a little stretching. The first mile of the race is always hard to gauge. It is slightly uphill. I usually start huffing and puffing a bit as I get acclimated to the run. I finished the first mile in about 11 1/2 minutes, which was where I wanted to be.
However, the second mile was really bad. As we went under Hwy. 183 and started proceeding south on the access road, my quads started to burn. I eased up and did a very slow second mile. At that point, I knew that I would have to play it safe to finish.
Maybe It's Not So Bad After All
Miles three and four weren't too bad. I made up a little time as we winded our way through the neighborhoods of Northwest hills, following Mesa to Spicewood Springs. There was jugglers at the corner of Mesa and Spicewood Springs. One of the things that I like about this race is the pageantry of interesting people who line the course to urge the runners on. I let myself walk a bit while going over MoPac. By this point, I knew that I was almost at the five mile mark. The course loops through the Allandale neighborhood before reaching a midway point a little bit beyond Northcross mall. There is a really long stretch down Burnet which is mostly flat. I started running out of gas here and had to start walking more frequently.
The Worst Stretch
The worst part of the course is a stretch of North Loop between Burnet and Avenue F. In the space of 1.3 miles, there are three major hills. I had spent an afternoon doing this stretch over and over again so that I would be ready when the time came. It helped to an extent. I remembered every feature of the road. It starts with apartments on either side. There is a huge industrial building just before Lamar. After crossing Lamar, the course goes downhill a bit. I remembered that a guy had been breaking up concrete with a jackhammer in front of some apartments. I knew that there was a coffee shop a little ways ahead and pushed myself to keep going until there. I surprised myself and kept going until the boundary of a cemetary which also marked the start of the last hill. On the left was a frame house where some guys had been cooking hot dogs and drinking a beer and another identical house where a girl had been sitting in the driveway reading a book. However, in this case, knowledge was not power. Even though I knew what was ahead and was mentally prepared, I was rapidly tiring out. However, I was still able to keep up a rhythm of intervals between plodding running and walking. My efforts were rewarded when I made it past Room Service Vintage (my wife's favorite store in all of Austin and the source of many of our home's furnishings).
The Turning Point
After all the killer hills, the course turned south on Duval. From there, it was a straight shot down four miles to the finish. Of course, four miles is still a long way when you have been running for over two hours. Now that the course was a bit kinder, I could go longer periods of time without walking. After a little bit, I passed 51st street. Since the race ends at 15th, I could start counting down the blocks from there.
Just before the 12 mile mark, I crossed over 26th onto the UT campus. As I meandered past Darrell K. Royal Stadium, my weary brain thought that it looked more like a turreted castle than a football stadium. Orcs storming the battlements would not have looked out of place. Still I kept moving, slowly but surely. The mile through UT seemed to take forever. However, eventually I made it past the Santa Rita rig at the entrance to campus and could see the finish line four blocks away. I pushed my aching legs, telling myself that it would be unworthy to walk with the end in sight.
The End
As I approached the finish line, I heard the announcer mangle my name. Then it was over. Someone handed me my medal and a water bottle as I staggered along on depleted legs. I smiled when I saw Val and Stephanie waiting for me. Finally, I made it to the most important part: the tent where they were serving free Rudy's breakfast tacos. My final time was 2 hours 50 minutes. I was fully 16 minutes slower than last year. I finished behind 95% of the 5,000 runners who turned out that morning. However, I finished.
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