Graduation, Churches & the Summer Sun

(Writer's note: Well school is out and summer is here, and I need a break. So-o-o-o I will be sharing posts made on technorati here from time to time. I still plan to post weekly. So make sure you come by. The following article was first published as "Graduation Venues Heating Up Controversy" on technorati.)

We all survived graduation in the sweltering near 100 degree heat at our football stadium. Until about three years ago, we used to hold it at Potter's House until it became too expensive.

But even if we could have passed around the ol' collection plate and rustled up enough donations to head back over to the very nice, air conditioned Potter's House, apparently the ACLU and a federal judge would have tried to stop that.

Something about separation of church and state. Oh, did I forget to mention Potter's House is one of those megachurches? 

A school district in Connecticut  had a big brouhaha showdown over wanting to hold graduation in a megachurch there. After a U.S. District judged issued a preliminary injunction saying it was unconstitutional for the Enfield School District to hold its commencement ceremonies at The First Cathedral, the school board voted not to appeal the ruling.

Like so many other high schools across the country, megachurches offer great air conditioned spaces that can accommodate everyone from Uncle Bob to Cousin Jake and even the neighbors down the street. Not only can they accommodate huge crowds, they even have enough parking spaces for them, and, as an added bonus, they even have state of the art video feeds to view your graduate up close and personal. What's not to like about that?

The superintendent of Windsor Schools told Fox News that the board voted not to appeal the injunction because "the board felt that if it remained with the Cathedral and faced the ACLU, the cost to the taxpayers would be significant and the board could not justify that cost."

With temperatures expected to soar into the triple digits here, administrators at Southlake Carroll Senior High School opted to move their graduation ceremonies to the new Dallas Cowboy Stadium with its cool 78 degree indoor temperature. Still, all that fuss in Connecticut got me wondering if moving the Southlake Carroll graduation bothered the sensibilities of parents or kiddos who are Philadelphia Eagles fans, or maybe that little move violated some sort of NFL thingy. 

When my daughter graduated a number of years ago at Potter's House, I don't recall even remotely thinking her high school was endorsing any religion. We were too busy doing the dance of joy to pay much attention to the venue.

I wonder if that judge would have changed her mind if she had had to sit on the 50 yard line in near 100 degree heat, in her black robe.

Just wondering.

A few things of note…

Hideeho friends,

Just a few things of note…

•The Carnival of Education has been in full swing over at my friend Loonyhiker Pat’s Successful Teaching blog. I don’t have a post over there since my last post wasn’t education related, but you can read it here. But you really need to hop on over there, so you’ll know what’s going on in the EduSphere.

•Although I’m back from my beach vacation, I am headed out again on a girls’ trip for an almost week in the sun in celebration of two milestones––my eldest daughter’s graduation from Texas Tech and my youngest daughter’s graduation from high school and soon-to-be freshman in college.

•Because of all of that, I don’t plan on posting an education related entry unless, of course, I finish washing the South Padre sand out of our clothes, finish my errands and get everything repacked. The last time I opened the laundry room door and looked at my errand list, well, let’s just say, fat chance of any postings.

However, I did post a rather amusing entry called, “Goldilocks and the Shade Hijackers: My Beach Vacation” for BC magazine. That should keep you occupied while I am gone. You can read about it here. In fact, I would be ever so thrilled if you would go there, read it and even post a comment.

Lines, Graduation & Ninnyhammers

I don’t know how I manage to do it, but I have a knack for getting in the wrong line. Surely, some of you can related to that.

Maybe it’s genetic, or perhaps it’s some undiscovered virus plaguing me, or just a penchant for bad luck. Who knows?

My only consolation is that I know, brothers and sisters, I am not alone.

About a month or so ago, I met a rabbi in the security line queue at Denver International Airport. I guess I had visions of Moses parting the Red Sea and figured it was a safe bet to follow the rabbi into his security line. But the very nano-second Mr. Rabbi and I arrived in our line (you know, the line that originally was moving rather speedy quick), it came to an abrupt and grinding halt.

The rabbi just looked at me and rather apologetically said, “I always get in the slowest line—even at the grocery store.”

Jeez Louise, who would have thought that? So much for my Moses and Red Sea vision.

Now, I probably wouldn’t care very much about this little problem of mine except it has managed to spill over into other areas of my life. Somehow I’ve become a magnet for annoying people. And not just a tiny little magnet either. No siree, Missy, we’re talkin’ the magnetic power of the superconducting supercolliding type--except mine’s not broken.

I’m not exactly sure when all that happened, but the entire magnet theory became especially relevant this weekend when my husband and I attended our eldest child’s graduation ceremony at Texas Tech University. It was such a great Mother’s Day gift to watch our daughter graduate magna cum laude. (Woo-hoo!)

A friend of my daughter’s joined us to witness the two and half hour ceremony. As he got himself situated, he told me he had stuffed an air horn down his boot. Most of you probably know that such nonsense is banned from these kinds of ceremonies because air horns tend to take away from the dignity of the event. In fact, at my school's graduation (as well as at other high schools across our great land) teachers are assigned to confiscate such offending noise makers, and in some cases, sometimes even flag down police officers to escort the offenders out. (I know all this because such is my usual job assignment at graduation. See how lucky I am?)

So when Christopher told me about the air horn stashed down his boot, I told him I would smack him upside his little pointy head if he used it because after spending thousands and thousands of dollars on my daughter’s education, I did not intend to be tossed unceremoniously out of graduation. Although he looked somewhat crestfallen, he promised not to. (I think I might have thrown in a threat involving his liver and nose, too.)

Things (there are those darn tootin’ things again) were rockin’ along pretty well, but you know they always do at first.

Well, as I said, things were rockin’ along pretty well. We were seated in the perfect section directly above where our daughter would be sitting. Scott Pelley of 60 Minutes fame gave the commencement speech, and I loved it (and not just because I am a journalist). In fact, I enjoyed all the pomp and circumstance.

What I didn’t enjoy were the poops and ninnyhammers

The row behind us consisted of a really annoying man who pretended to talk in an announcer voice and who repeatedly kicked the back of my husband’s chair. Then, of course, there was the 3-to 4-year-old girl who did stuff and said stuff that only families find cute, but everyone else on the planet finds, well, rather annoying and disruptive.

I thought we were safe once that row vacated after their graduate received his diploma. Sadly, they were merely replaced by another group jockeying for a better position who talked about restaurants, directions and their jobs all in rather loud voices.

As if that weren’t enough (and don’t ya think that should have been?), let’s not forget about the preteen boy who pumped up the volume on his cell phone so he could hear some rather bad music about two hours into the ceremony.

I looked at the rows away from me, and no one else seemed to have such problems. For a brief moment, I looked around for that rabbi in hopes that perhaps he was somewhere there, and we could commiserate about the poopheads and ninnyhammers.

But sadly, I was very alone in all this. Either the other rows paid these guys to move closer to me, or apparently the poops and ninnyhammers just naturally gravitated towards my row because of that superconducting supercolliding magnet thing.

Now, if only I had been thinking clearly, I should have grabbed that air horn from Chris’ boot and given those poops a toot or two.

Except with my luck, the usher would have kicked me out, and then I’d have lots of explaining to do.