Pubdate: Sun, 17 Jun 2001
Source: St. Paul Pioneer Press (MN)
Copyright: 2001 St. Paul Pioneer Press
Contact:  http://www.pioneerplanet.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/379
Author: Kristine Holmgren
Note: Holmgren is a writer, broadcast commentator and Presbyterian pastor, 
with a daughter in high school. She also is a board member of the Minnesota 
Civil Liberties Union, which is considering legal action against the school 
district.

FAITH OF OUR FATHERS

Once upon a time, I believed in the good intentions of drug-abuse 
prevention programs in the public schools. No longer.

In April, Northfield schools secured $1,500 from the Minnesota Department 
of Children, Families and Learning for a drug-abuse prevention assembly. 
With the blessings of the principal, superintendent and school board, Kevin 
Merkle, Northfield High School activities director, hired a Christian 
evangelist to do the job.

Don't bother to read that paragraph again. You got it right the first time. 
Public dollars. Public school. Christian evangelist.

The evangelist is Bradlee Dean, a former cocaine addict who took Christ as 
his savior, picked up an electric guitar, and has been reaping the benefits 
from his born-again nonprofit tax status ever since. During the past school 
year, Dean appeared in 28 schools, sucking up money intended for drug-abuse 
prevention programs and abstinence-only sex education.

Faribault schools paid him $3,000 for two assemblies; Centennial in 
Minneapolis gave him $5,000. Your tax dollars at work.

Northfield schools were easy pickings for Dean. Every spring, our high 
school secures federal and state money for events during WAITT (We're All 
in This Together) Week. It is our annual orgy of workshops, performances 
and lectures on the importance of juvenile abstinence, sobriety and 
self-esteem.

Every year, the district dances closer to the edge of social engineering 
and fascism.

This year, Northfield High School went all the way during two mandatory 
assemblies at which Bradlee Dean's blond wife sang her rock-version of 
"Jesus Loves Me" to an auditorium filled with captive high school children. 
Then, after blasting them with loud, ear-crippling guitar garbage, Dean 
accused Northfield youth of loving pornographic movies, booze and guns. He 
charged them with drug abuse, sexual promiscuity and something called 
"impure thoughts."

His wife instructed the girls on appropriate ways to be "chaste" for their 
husbands to be and said disparaging things about homosexuality, lesbianism 
and single-parent-families. Meanwhile, Dean's goon squad worked the 
assembly crowd, handing out tracts with calls for repentance. The 56-page 
booklet tells the sad, sordid tale of Dean's drug-filled, promiscuous youth 
and how he was saved by his personal relationship with You Know Who. All of 
this was packaged as preventative education to the children of the farm 
families of Rice County; the sons and daughters of St. Olaf and Carleton, 
Sheldahl and Malt-O- Meal.

I called Merkle to find out his version of what happened. "Well, two 
interesting assemblies today," he said. "Inspired a lot of great conversation."

When I asked him if he thought the content was inappropriate for public 
schools, he said, "You just don't want us to do anything Christian, that's 
your problem."

Merkle is correct. And I am not alone in my allegiance to the Constitution. 
I hang out with folks who would take a bullet in the forehead over this 
issue. They believe, as I do, that schools have no business in the business 
of religion.

The mission of our public school system is to teach responsible 
citizenship. Rather than attempting to convert children to faith, public 
schools should be about converting students to be intellectually curious, 
critical thinkers who challenge societal assumptions.

Teaching the love of God is the work of religious professionals and people 
of faith. Discipleship is a discipline learned in the home, church, 
synagogue and temple. Not the public schools. For some reason, these 
straightforward ideas are too complex for the timid souls in my school 
district.

But not for the rest of us. After the assembly, I joined more than 60 
citizens who signed a petition, calling for the district to take action. We 
wanted our school board to investigate possible malfeasance by an 
administration that turned the other cheek while Dean humiliated our children.

In response to the petition, the superintendent placed Kevin Merkle, the 
school official who arranged for the assemblies, on the committee to 
investigate.

Like many small towns, our school board is a cozy club of decent, law- 
abiding hand-holders. The Northfield board consists of sunburned 
Norwegians, one or two fathers of high-school jocks and several silent, 
baffled women. They all want to believe in the good intentions of our 
administration. And they don't want anyone to get in trouble over the 
Constitution. Bradlee Dean knows this all too well. He told me so when I 
phoned him after the event in Northfield.

"The time is right for my kind of witness," he said. "The "abstinence only' 
money is there, and young people are hungry for the truth. And principals 
love me. Especially in the small towns. That's where people are most open 
to the word of God."

Maybe so. For many of us in the heartland, the Lord is our shepherd. That 
doesn't mean we want our schools to become spiritual troughs for the sheep. 
And the school district may have forgotten something: Northfield folks 
don't do well with people who don't respect our laws. Don't try to rob our 
bank or spit on our Constitution. We can get downright nasty.

Watch us fight this one.
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MAP posted-by: Terry Liittschwager