LAWS MAY GET IN THE WAY OF SCHOOLS MAKING MORAL CHOICES

It has become woefully difficult to practice morality in the United
States. We not only have a president who searches for loopholes in the
Holy Scripture, our legal system also gives far greater leeway to
sinners than to saints.

Let me give you a simple example involving my hometown high school -
Princeton High in Cincinnati.

The school for years has combined rigorous academic standards and
excellence in sports and the kind of diversity that would impress even
the most ardent multiculturalist. It was one of the first districts in
the nation to undertake a voluntary integration program - it absorbed
a neighboring all-black school system. Back in my day, we had one of
the nation's top debate teams and football squads.

Princeton in the early 1970s was like most other academic institutions
in the country - riven with racial and ideological conflicts, besieged
with the first onslaught of the drug war. One guy won a niche in the
Moron Hall of Fame by opening his coat one morning and showing an
undercover narcotics officer a dizzying array of acid tablets attached
to a long piece of scotch tape.

But despite such troubles, the place had standards. The would-be
peddler got booted out of school. Similarly, jocks of that age were
expected to behave like Marines on parade. Every coach but two sported
crew cuts. The assistant principal was a former drill instructor known
to toss miscreants up against a locker in order to instill a respect
for decorum.

Alas, times change. These days, the Princeton football team features a
defensive lineman who has distinguished himself by punishing opposing
players and selling narcotics. He soon will plead guilty to two
separate felony counts of possessing and distributing crack cocaine.

The plea stems from an incident last winter when he tried to sell
crack to a narc. At the time, the young man attended another high
school. Now, he plays for my alma mater.

The school argues that state regulations don't forbid convicted felons
from playing for athletic teams, not if the felonious activity took
place when the student was enrolled elsewhere.

This sounds like Al Gore's "no controlling legal authority" alibi, but
it's legally accurate. Blair Irvin, assistant commissioner of the Ohio
High School Athletic Association, says: "We don't have anything in our
bylaws that applies to this situation. We don't have anything in there
regarding any crimes. ... It doesn't matter whether it's a bank
robbery or what. We've never been confronted by this kind of thing
before."

The high school finds its hands tied, as well. District Superintendent
Dennis Peterson says the school lawyers won't let him keep the young
man off the team: "We have no legal basis for punishing him for things
he did when we was not a student. If he had done this when he was a
student, he would have been off the team."

Peterson shares the frustrations of people who want the schools to
take a stand. "We do very few things in terms of discipline of
employees or kids without talking to our lawyer," he sighs. "It's a
terrible way to run things. ... We often don't give good examples when
our hands are tied."

The case illustrates the extent to which petty legalism has interred
our common sense. America's justice system no longer restricts its
activity to the punishment of scofflaws. It has assumed an additional
duty: protecting anything not forbidden explicitly by statute.

Court rulings have established the proposition that a public school is
merely an extension of the public square. There is nothing distinctive
about a campus. By this theory, a 16-year-old in English class has the
same right to deliver his or her opinions as the sterno bum holding
forth at the corner of Hollywood and Vine.

Ironically, our legal temples have made it virtually impossible for
administrators to maintain discipline in schools. This reflects a
disturbing trend: As a nation, we seem far more intent on protecting
our sociopaths than defending our honest citizens. When any
institution, whether it be the White House or a high-school football
team, goes wobbly on matters of right and wrong, it surrenders some of
its soul.

That is literally demoralizing - even in this case, which includes
some interesting ethical nuances. School officials think the young man
has been transformed, Saul-like. He has confessed his sins without
making excuses. Team members elected him their captain.

Despite this heartwarming turnaround, the fact remains that confession
and respect don't give a felon the right to crack the starting lineup.
In this case, the tragedy isn't that he will play every Friday night,
but that the schools didn't even have the option of telling him, "No."

Checked-by: Patrick Henry