Hate

I Hate High School

High school is, for the most part, a waste of time. But administrators and teachers at Glencoe High School in Hillsboro have learned to waste it in new, creative ways.

BY FARRAH L. BOSTIC

"It's not enough to emerge from high school a happy person, and most people don't." -- Prof. Priscilla Southwell, UO Dept. of Political Science

High school marks the end of a sense of childhood, and the beginning of a sense of adulthood. For many teenagers, it can be exhilarating. For some it flies by unnoticed. And for others, it is the source of humiliation, angst and frustrated confusion. For students like Steve*, administrators and teachers can become the most appalling perpetrators of harassment, slander and violations of civil liberties.

At the beginning of Steve's sophomore year, he asked his principal, Dr. Suzanne Kusick, for permission to take the jazz band class during his "zero" period, before the start of the regular school day. The rule to this point was that participants in the jazz band class were required to take the regular symphonic band class. Knowing that Steve was taking private lessons and was passionate about music, Kusic gave Steve a verbal "okay" to be in the jazz band.

On three occasions, Steve and his parents reconfirmed with Kusick the exception. Inexplicably, Kusick suddenly claimed that "she couldn't remember any of the other conversations and demanded that Steve waive his PE class and take the band second semester. We didn't trust the 'waive,' refused and insisted on no change to the original deal. [Kusick] angrily agreed," Steve's parents recalled.

This was the beginning of a pattern of hostile behavior coming from Glencoe's administrative offices, from the District office, and from the teaching faculty.

Steve's junior year, at parent conferences, his journalism teacher, Juanita Reider, asked for "our help in 'getting to know' Steve better. She wanted to know what adults he talked to, what he liked to do, what he was like at home. And she shared how good-looking she thought Steve was and how much he reminded her of Keanu [Reeves] and Kevin [Costner]," Steve's mother said.

"We decided to tell [Kusick], but she assured us nothing was meant by it. We told Steve, and he told us that she talks like that in class all the time and that he just avoids her."

One of Steve's assignments was a story about the girls' basketball team. Reider required Steve to get a quotation from the coach, who had already refused an interview. One day in the hall at school, Steve spotted the coach in the hallway, and called out his question. She responded, and he used it in his story.

The coach read the article, and not remembering an "interview," she called the quotation to the attention of Reider. On a Friday after school, Reider told Steve that he was "a disgrace to himself, to the paper, to the school and the district, that he 'plagiarized the quote' and would get a zero for the assignment, and for the quarter," Steve's mother recalled.

Steve's parents, concerned about this reaction, spoke with a vice principal, who eventually agreed with Steve that what he did was not plagiarism and that Reider had overreacted. Steve was removed from the class, by his parents' request, and his report card was changed to remove any record of his participation in the class for the semester.

Instead, he finished the year in a calligraphy class.

Nine weeks after it was requested, Steve's parents were granted yet another conference with Reider. She was non-responsive, but they were assured that he could reenroll in the class the following year and that Reider would be professional.

Also that year, Joe* began harassing Steve. Trying to solve the problem, Steve asked his counselor for mediation with Joe, but Joe refused. Steve's counselor, Toni Crummett, told Steve to continue to report any harassment so that they could build a case. "Toni told me that another person had reported about twelve incidents with another student but that they were still 'building,'" Steve's mother recalled.

Joe attacked Steve at swim practice, prompting the coach to assign "bodyguards," since Joe had already been in a fight with another team member. "Joe was rewarded in the end, though, because he swam JV all year long and still managed to letter," Steve's mother said.

"We had a meeting with the athletic director at the end of the season, and he almost came across the desk at Steve's dad for no reason. Vern told us that Joe lettered because his parents might sue, and that Steve must have done something to provoke Joe's wrath," Steve's mother said.

Joe threatened to kill Steve with a baseball bat in hand twice at school, and yelled obscenities at Steve and his girlfriend in the halls. Steve's parents talked to Kusick about these incidents, who instructed Steve to report further incidents oly to her. He tried to report to her, but she repeatedly cancelled and never rescheduled.

After the second threat, Steve's mother called the police, who did speak with Joe's parents. "We were told that Joe's parents wanted to have a conference to make sure Steve was okay and to assure us it wouldn't happen again. It took a month, and by then they thought that Steve and I were just out to get Joe. At the conference, [Kusick] told us all that the school had called Joe's parents in February, but they said they didn't know until the police called.

"I told Joe's parents that the system had let us both down, and that the school is clearly at fault for the problem," Steve's mother said.

But the harassment, at least from Joe, stopped.

Back in band, Steve was unofficially demoted from first chair to make way for the director's daughter, who had played for only one year. Steve complained, and the director retaliated by giving Steve a hard time and threatening his grade.

"We decided the pressure was too much, and pulled him out, thinking that if [the director] wanted Steve, he would call. He never did. It took us months to get a conference, and when he did he said that Steve wouldn't be let back in that year," Steve's mother said.

This year, Steve's senior year, has been no different.

Last spring, Steve was made the school's reporter to the Hillsboro Argus. He was told that they wanted something controversial and that he would not be censored except for obscenities, inappropriate or inaccurate material.

The start of the fall semester brought an end to that promise.

"We were called by [Kusick] before school started for a command performance to have a conference with [Reider]. We were given a contract [for the journalism class] to review and we were expected to review it on the spot. We objected to several of the clauses, but [Kusick] overruled. We decided to think about it and stated that none of the clauses should be an issue because they don't apply to Steve. No one said anything to the contrary, or anything at all," Steve's mother said.

Since then, the Argus column has been repeatedly censored, or cut altogether, all at the discretion of Kusick. Rules have been issued for Steve that no other high school reporter to the Argus is expected to adhere to.

In his journalism class, Steve was required to have all of the people he interviewed sign off stating that they had indeed been interviewed, implying to those teachers that he was somehow suspect. This new requirement effectively slandered Steve's character to the teachers at Glencoe, a character previously unimpeachable.

"I talked to the State Department of Education and they told me to call the district office, and to tell them to stop it and stop it now," Steve's mother said. But the district had no intention of stopping anything.

Shortly thereafter, Steve's father was called at work. Steve was being kicked out of the journalism class again. Steve's father and grandfather, a former public school superintendent, attended yet another conference. Kusick and the representative from the district office were present, but Reider was not. Reider had refused a conference unless a union representative was present. They gave only vague reasons for their decision to remove Steve from class, like "he undermines teacher's authority." Steve's father asked for his son's school and behavioral records, and was told that "they would have to think about it."

"I called the state again, and they offered to act as intermediaries. They called Bev Gladder at the district office and asked for a mediation session, but she refused. The state asked them about Steve's due process rights and were told that it wasn't applicable for electives. The state suggested calling the school board," Steve's mother recalled. "I called the district and asked for the names of the school board. I was told I had to follow some kangaroo court process before I could talk to them. I complained and got a nasty letter from [Superintendent] Nikki [Squires], which was the only time I had ever heard from her--she doesn't take phone calls, and she doesn't make appearances."

A new teacher declared war on Steve this semester. Steve was recently given detention by a Mr. Baines for "driving crazy in the parking lot." It wasn't the first run-in with this teacher, a teacher Steve didn't even know.

As a final slap in the face, Steve's transcripts for college were sent to the wrong place and Steve almost missed the application deadline. Today, Steve has the worst case of "senioritis" imaginable. And he hopes that college will be better. He plans to matriculate in the fall, and has already been greeted with what is, to Steve at least, a hostile letter from UO President Frohnmayer, demanding that Steve be a model citizen, an engaged learner, and an involved student. Steve wonders if he isn't simply entering into Glencoe High School, Part Two. To make matters even more ironic, Joe, the student who threatened Steve's life, has received nearly a free ride from the University of Oregon in scholarships, while the principal has been promoted to the district office.

The most important lesson that Steve has learned, is that being the good kid, the exceptional student, and involved in a half-dozen extracurricular activities doesn't pay. The work, when it comes to education, does not come first. But egos do.

Farrah Bostic, a senior majoring in Journalism, is Publisher Abroad for the Oregon Commentator *Student's names were changed.