'Battle of ideology' in Ohio
(By Tim Jones, Chicago Tribune, August 4, 2008)
MT. VERNON, Ohio ?- It's the kind of story that turns heads and stomachs alike, especially in a small town. A well-known and popular middle school science teacher known for strong religious beliefs is charged with branding the shape of a cross onto the forearm of an 8th-grade student.
The teacher is in big and possibly career-ending trouble, a quiet college town is bitterly divided and, rightly or wrongly, the Bible is at the center of it.
The case of John Freshwater, a 21-year veteran of Mt. Vernon City School District, has split this pleasant central Ohio community into squabbling camps?-those who see Freshwater as a heroic father figure, persecuted for his Christian beliefs and his insistence on having his personal Bible on his desk, and those who condemn him as a religious predator promoting creationism and intelligent design and undermining the teaching of evolution, in violation of school policy.
Many here wish the whole messy matter would go away, along with the television media that have swooped in for another chapter in the simmering national saga of creationism versus evolution, complete with Bible-waving rallies and shouts that religious freedom is being trampled.
"There's a battle of ideology going on here," said Don Matolyak, pastor of Trinity Worship Center and a Freshwater supporter. "I believe the ultimate issue is the Bible on the desk."
No way, argues Beth Murdock, who runs a downtown bakery. "This makes us look like a bunch of hicks, and that's not what this is," Murdock said.
"I don't think he meant to burn anybody. He got some bad counsel to make this all about the Bible and God. All he needed to do was say he was sorry, but he wouldn't do that," Murdock said.
Around town, there are some not-so-quiet suggestions that the unidentified child made the story up or that the photo of the child's forearm was doctored. Others say Freshwater, who teaches creationism and intelligent design at Matolyak's church, has been pushing his personal religious agenda in the public school for years. In 2003, Freshwater proposed a policy to "critically analyze evolution," which the school board rejected.
One yard sign read, "The student goes. We Support Mr. Freshwater. The Bible stays!"
Freshwater, 52, has vehemently denied branding anyone and insists he teaches evolution. In a brief interview, Freshwater said the investigation into his activities is "biased."
All this is prelude to an Aug. 26 hearing at which a referee will consider the board's recommendation that Freshwater, who has been suspended without pay, be fired.
The alleged branding occurred last December during a classroom science experiment. Freshwater was using an electrostatic device common in science classroom demonstrations. Science teachers at the school say they have used the device for many years to identify the color of gases.
Freshwater told investigators, according to an independent probe, that students often ask if they could touch the device, which carries high voltage but low current. On that day, several students volunteered, including one unidentified child whose parents complained that the crosslike mark left a "burn that remained on their child's arm for three or four weeks," the report said. The parents are suing Freshwater and the school system.
The alleged branding has overshadowed a more complex story of religious beliefs and public education. Freshwater supporters argue that religious freedom is on trial here, along with the teacher. The school district begs to differ.
"To try to put this in the context of Scopes," said attorney David Millstone, referring to the Tennessee teacher tried in 1925 for teaching evolution, "would not be appropriate."
"This is about the safety and well-being of students and protecting their constitutional rights to get an education," said Millstone, who represents the school board.
Mt. Vernon is a politically conservative town of 14,000 people, about 50 miles northeast of Columbus. "Religion in this area is a very emotional subject," said school Supt. Stephen Short.
The town is home to several thriving manufacturers and Mt. Vernon Nazarene University. A few miles down the road in Gambier is Kenyon College, founded in 1824 to educate clergymen "for frontier America," according to the Kenyon Web site. Kenyon's alumni include President Rutherford Hayes, author E.L. Doctorow and actor Paul Newman.
Freshwater's case has strained the eclectic community.
Lori Miller, a mathematics teacher at the middle school, said Freshwater is being singled out for his religious beliefs. Miller said she keeps a Bible on her desk and, like Freshwater, has posters on her classroom walls with religious themes. Other teachers have Bibles in their classrooms, she said.
"Nobody's ever told me to remove my Bible or to remove the other religious material hanging on my walls," Miller said. Freshwater is teaching children to ask questions "and not just to take what a teacher said as a fact."
The investigative report said Freshwater "challenged kids to question [Charles] Darwin," the English naturalist who formulated the theory of evolution. The report also cited work sheets given to students that ask, "Is there an I.D. [intelligent design] involved?"
On Main Street, opinions reflect the community's discomfort.
Anne Storan, who runs a bookstore, called Freshwater "a wonderful man" who is well-liked by the community. "And because they like him they've protected him."
Up the street, Lori Metcalf, who runs a music store with her husband, said Freshwater is the best teacher her daughter ever had.
"Do I think he might have overstepped his bounds? Yes," Metcalf said. "But he should be reprimanded, not fired."
It could take several days, or perhaps more than a week, for the hearing officer to decide Freshwater's fate, Millstone said. No one is predicting how long it will take to heal the community wounds from the dispute.
Our political tradition sets great store by the generalized symbol of evil. This is the wrongdoer whose wrongdoing will be taken by the public to be the secret propensity of a whole community or class. We search avidly for such people, not so much because we wish to see them exposed and punished as individuals, but because we cherish the resulting political discomfort of their friends. To uncover an evil man among the friends of one's foes has long been a recognized method of advancing one's political fortunes. However, in recent times [1980] the technique has been greatly improved and refined by the added firmness with which the evil of the evildoer is now attributed to friends. acquaintances, and all who share his way of life.
Suspended science teacher Freshwater defends self in meeting
(By Alayna DeMartini, THE COLUMBUS DISPATCH, August 5, 2008)
MOUNT VERNON, Ohio -- A suspended Mount Vernon science teacher was like a rock star in the crowded auditorium of Bible-clutching, American-flag-waving people last night.
Most stood clapping and cheering when John Freshwater walked to the lectern and tearfully defended his teaching record.
He denied all grounds against him that have him fighting for his job as an eighth-grade science teacher in Mount Vernon schools.
Freshwater denied ever branding a cross into a student's arm, and he said he never taught creationism to his students.
"I never taught anything in the classroom that was prohibited," Freshwater said.
So many people showed up at last night's school-board meeting that it had to be moved from the Mount Vernon Middle School library to its auditorium. About 500 people came to hear Freshwater address the board; most were there to support him.
The issue of whether Freshwater discussed his Christian beliefs in class has been at the forefront since the family of one of Freshwater's former students sued the teacher and the school board, alleging that Freshwater had burned a cross onto their son's forearm during a science class.
The suit and an independent investigation said that Freshwater was teaching creationism in the classroom after the school board had told him not to.
Freshwater pointed out last night that his personnel file is solid and that he has a good record as a teacher.
"In my personnel file -- all 240 pages of it -- I have no reprimands. It's clean, it's absolutely clean," he said.
Freshwater, 52, has taught in Mount Vernon schools for 24 years. He was suspended without pay two weeks ago and has appealed his suspension.
Last night, he asked school-board members why, if the allegation is that he had been teaching creationism for 12 years, the issue is surfacing now.
He also questioned why school-board members aren't deciding whether he should be fired. Instead, that will be decided by an independent referee who has been selected by the state. Freshwater's appeals hearing begins Aug. 26.
Lori Miller, who teaches science and math at the middle school, said she thinks Freshwater "is being singled out."
Miller said she has religious items in her classroom, including a Bible, and has never been asked to remove them, as Freshwater was.
Dozens spoke in favor of Freshwater last night, as they have in previous school-board meetings.
Some people drove several hours to support him. Brian Gaiser and his wife, Linda, came from Cleveland after reading about the situation in an e-mail that circulated at their church.
"We believe religious freedom is not a violation of church and state," Brian Gaiser said.
But Paula Barone, whose three children were students in Freshwater's classroom, emphasized the importance of not favoring a religion in a public classroom.
She said that if one teacher is allowed to teach Christianity, "the question becomes whose particular Christian belief system will be taught."
What They Teach you at Harvard Business School: My Two Years Inside the Cauldron of Capitalism by Philip Delves Broughton The Sunday times review by Christopher Hart: the inside track on the world's most famous MBA course
In 2004, the journalist Philip Delves Broughton walked away from what sounds like a peach of a job, Paris bureau chief for the Daily Telegraph, to enrol in Harvard's world-famous MBA (Masters in Business Administration) course. As a reporter he had managed to get himself blacklisted by the French foreign ministry for asking impertinent questions of the preening, poetry-writing Dominique de Villepin: surely a career high for any self-respecting hack. But he had serious doubts about his future in journalism, and indeed about newspapers themselves. "I wanted control over my time, my financial resources, and my life, and I imagined that a general competence in business would stand me in better stead."
So off he went to Harvard Business School (HBS), where a coveted MBA represents the "union card of the global financial elite". Harvard MBAs run the World Bank, the American Treasury, General Electric, Goldman Sachs, Procter & Gamble. Even George W Bush is an alumnus. To some indefinable extent, Harvard MBAs run your life: "The hours we work, the vacations we get, the culture we consume, the health care we receive." And they are supremely confident they should.
The result of Delves Broughton's time there is this funny and revealing insider's view, revealing precisely because he is genuinely fascinated by the world of business, and his fascination is infectious. Yet feelings of unease emerge even before he arrives. He reads a student guide on What to Bring. "Don't bring that guitar . . . Don't bring any books from literature or history classes . . . Don't bring your cynicism. Do bring all the diverse rest of you. We can't wait to share the experience." Immediately, his bolshie British bullshit- detector thrums into life: "Who were these people? And why did they talk like this? Why can't I bring my cynicism? Or my books? Aren't they a part of the ?'diverse rest of me'?" "Your calendar will be jam-packed with amazing, fun things to do," warbles the guide.
Amazingly, despite this terrible threat, he persists. Instantly, he is swamped with work: company case studies, spreadsheet analysis, books called things such as Crossing the Chasm and Inside the Tornado, intended to make him feel he's doing something terribly daring and manly. He is surprised at the large presence of earnest Mormons and unimaginative former-military men in this cauldron of capitalism. But gradually this begins to make sense, for HBS is pervaded with an oppressive atmosphere of unquestioning obedience and creepy religiosity. There is the confessional My Reflected Best-Self exercise, to encourage students "to create a developmental agenda for leveraging their reflected best-self" and "work maximally from positions of strength". Approved results sound like this: "I do not take on the negative energy of the insecure . . . I stay centred . . . I try to model the message of integrity, growth and transformation." Delves Broughton is quietly incredulous that people actually talk about themselves like this, in public, straight-faced.
The weirdest and creepiest episode is when a student writes to the entire school, confessing to a "regrettable property- damage incident", a gorgeous euphemism for urinating against a neighbouring student's door. "His behaviour had made him realise he still had work to do figuring out exactly who he was." Ye-es . . . or maybe he should just resolve not to pee against people's doors in future. Even more creepily, Delves Broughton finds that he no longer responds to such tosh with a healthy snort of laughter. "It was serious, right? Leadership. Core values. Transformation. Being true to oneself." It takes his wife ?- his American wife ?- to inject some common sense. "These people are freaks."
The total bill for his time at HBS is $175,000. Was it worth it? For all its vast reputation, power and pomposity, you feel that HBS neither understands the complexity nor acknowledges the chaotic unpredictability of the world economy any better than anyone else. More conclusively, it encourages its little alumni to major in hypocrisy. You go there for one simple reason: to make shedloads of money. Fine, so it's no crime in itself to want to be absurdly and pointlessly rich, although it's certainly no virtue. What sticks in the gullet is graduates' self-flattering delusion that they're on some kind of crusade, their "very American" insistence, as Delves Broughton puts it, on being not only "the most powerful, the richest and most successful", but also "the most morally good". At the same time as learning how to manipulate billions in order to profit, say, from ordinary people's fretful indebtedness during a recession, you can believe that you are a philanthropic leader of men. Yet these are people whose answer to their own question, "How will I know how much is enough?" is, "When you've got your own jet." Any notion that such jet-setting plutocrats are truly concerned about the rest of us, or the planet, or the future, is laughable.
Yet to support this sense of righteous mission there's a whole new raft of jargon, not just daft but pretentious and nauseating. These money-loving graduates must nurture "heightened self-awareness" and "a strong moral compass", they must "foster integrity strategies", acquire "leadership and values". But why the hell would the rest of us want to be led by these spreadsheet-reading, PowerPoint-presenting swots who've devoted the best years of their lives simply to making moolah?
The final, oddly moving moment of epiphany comes to Delves Broughton as he is wandering through a rainy Boston and pauses to read the plaques on the Old North Church. One is to "Paul Revere, 1735-1818. Patriot. Master Craftsman. Good Citizen. Born on Hanover Street. Lived on North Street. Established his bell foundry on Foster Street and died on Charter Street." The brevity and quiet pride, the pioneer hardiness and unshowy self-sufficiency of Revere's plaque seem in powerful contrast to the bloated and blustery style of the town's world-famous business school, its restless, rootless, money-driven alumni now "disappearing to the ends of the earth in search of opportunity, worrying about work and life". On reflection, "I felt better not being among them."
Last night on television: The Genius of Charles Darwin (Channel 4)
By James Walton
In advance, The Genius of Charles Darwin (Channel 4) seemed to offer the rare and pleasing prospect of Richard Dawkins enthusing about somebody he likes rather than yet again laying into somebody he doesn't (ie God).
The introduction to last night's opening episode looked quite promising as well. Dawkins grew almost dewy-eyed as he piled up the superlatives and declared what an inspiration Darwin has been to him. Evolution by natural selection, we were told, is "perhaps the most powerful idea ever to occur to a human mind". It's also "nothing less than a complete explanation of the complexity and diversity of all life".
But as it turned out, Dawkins couldn't keep up this positive approach for long. Within 45 seconds, he'd already announced that the main aim of the series is "to persuade you that evolution offers a far richer and more spectacular view of life than any religious story" - with the last two words delivered, of course, in particularly withering tones. ("It's one reason I don't believe in God," he added, somewhat unnecessarily.)
And so, by and large, the programme continued. On the one hand, we got a brilliant and heartfelt guide to how Darwin's ideas developed. On the other, virtually every point was accompanied by a vigorous yet entirely predictable sideswipe at religious believers and their benighted ways. This only had the effect of constantly interrupting the interesting stuff. It was also like watching someone with a sort of anti-religious version of Tourette's syndrome - and certainly confirmed that the downside of having an obsession is that you become a bit of a bore.
Maybe one problem is that because of his evangelical atheism, Dawkins has had to field so many objections from mad creationists that he's forgotten how rare they are - at least in Britain. Either way, as he kept up his fierce arguments with people who weren't there, you had to keep reminding yourself that far from being a matter of deep controversy, Darwin's discoveries are so accepted here that the man is on every English tenner.
To be fair, Dawkins did manage to find a science class in a London school that seemed populated by an unusually religious bunch of teenagers. Faced with their belief in God as the source of life, he did his plucky best to remain twinklingly avuncular. Again, though, it was only a matter of time before he snapped - in this case by angrily lamenting their "lifetime of religious indoctrination", and packing them off on a coach trip to look for fossils.
In fact, what these teenagers were doing in the programme at all never became clear. Luckily, once they'd been left on a beach looking rather bored, they did disappear from the screen for a while, leaving Dawkins free to get on with the story of Darwin.
In this, little was left to chance. (Darwin, Dawkins felt the need to remind us, lived "in the days before the internet".) Occasionally too, there were possible elements of confusion. For most of the time, Dawkins emphasised that Darwin spent the 20 years between the voyage on the Beagle and the publication of On the Origin of Species painstakingly working out his ideas. Towards the end, we heard that Darwin had known the truth all along, but had decided not to publish because of the fuss it would cause. Nor was it easy to square Dawkins's belief in the "beauty" of natural selection (the process itself rather than just the concept) with the enormous cruelty involved - which he described with some relish.
Nonetheless, by the end, the story of how the theory of evolution evolved had definitely been traced with impressive care, and neatly combined with the other great scientific advances of Darwin's day - and of ours. (Dawkins was touchingly dismayed by the thought that Darwin didn't live long enough to see his ideas vindicated by the discovery of DNA.) There were also several moments that lived up to those advance hopes for a less cross Dawkins than usual. The sight of him looking awestruck as he gazed at a first edition of On the Origin of Species was especially stirring. When he showed us some of Darwin's own pigeon specimens from the 1850s, he duly handled them like holy relics.
And yet, all the time, those anti-religious outbursts just kept coming, with each glorious breakthrough in human understanding becoming another chance for Dawkins to say how rubbish religion is. As a true Darwinian disciple, he evidently felt obliged to admire everything about the man - which here included approving of the fact that Darwin was never "an aggressive polemicist". Ironically, of course, this only goes to show that, like many a religious believer before him, Dawkins doesn't always find it easy to live up to the ideals of his Master.
Local dentist wins state ed board primary
(By Barbara Hollingsworth, The Topeka Capital-Journal, August 06, 2008)
For the second time, Topekan Bob Meissner is headed for a general election battle for a seat on the Kansas State Board of Education.
Meissner, a dentist and Shawnee County GOP chairman, was trouncing his Republican primary opponent, Alan Detrich, an artist and self-described "fossil hunter" from Lawrence.
"I'm excited," Meissner said Tuesday night from Joe Vagabond's Coffee House, 3627 S.E. 29th. "I certainly am appreciative of all the support people have given me and their votes of confidence."
At 11:20 p.m., Meissner led Detrich with 76 percent of the vote with 234 of 275 precincts reporting. In Shawnee County alone, Meissner raked in 85 percent of the vote. The District 4 seat also includes Wabaunsee County and parts of Douglas and Osage counties.
Four years ago, Meissner narrowly lost to Bill Wagnon, a Topeka Democrat not seeking re-election.
In that election, the 57-year-old former Shawnee Heights Unified School District 450 school board member didn't have a primary opponent. This time, Meissner said having an early opponent may work to his advantage in the Nov. 4 general election, when he goes up against Carolyn Campbell, a former Topeka USD 501 school board member.
"It's kind of energized me earlier than I think what it might have been otherwise," Meissner said.
Detrich said he was "happy and honored" to have won Douglas County in the race, and he wished Meissner luck in the general election.
In the District 6 race, incumbent Kathy Martin, 62, was more focused on reading late Tuesday than watching her lead grow in election returns.
"It's always been in the good Lord's hands," she said. "That's where I left it."
Martin was defeating Bill Pannbacker, 59, in the Republican primary with 52 percent of the vote. Of 441 precincts, 432 had reported results in the northeast and north-central Kansas race.
Martin is the only incumbent seeking re-election to the state board. A retired teacher from Clay Center, Martin has been a staunch conservative during her time on the board, pushing in 2005 to add criticisms of evolution to the state science standards. Martin also recommended that school districts provide sex education only to families who opt their children into the lessons. Pannbacker, a Washington farmer with experience serving on a local school board, took an opposing stance on such issues.
The winner will face Manhattan Democrat Christopher Renner, who ran in large part to ensure that Martin would face opposition in the general election.
Everything is rubbish, we're all going to die, what's the point anyway, to hell with it all.
He's right, of course, we are all doomed, but most of us prefer to ignore this. Or at least keep it tucked away in a dark corner of the brain. To be ostriches. Or Christians.
...he actually says that, he really does--and he hasn't even left the house, sorry office, where he's sleeping, miserably, fitfully on the floor.
Religious distress is at the same time the expression of real distress and the protest against real distress. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is required for their real happiness. The demand to give up the illusion about its condition is the demand to give up a condition which needs illusions.
Today is the last day of the 2008 International Conference on Creationism. It is being held in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (I wonder if Farmerman had time to attend any of the presentations.)
