Kids’ Drug Fight Slowed By Rules
So great is their disdain for drugs that Nathan Gray and Kim Pearson tiptoe past words like marijuana and acid as if just saying them makes them culpable.
“We’re tired of seeing kids in the hall, during lunch, knowing it’s out there,” Nathan says, leaving no doubt he’s fed up.
“We know who’s high in class. We know people who get drunk every weekend. But nothing happens,” says Kim, with equal disgust.
Nathan, Kim and five of their fellow seniors at Coeur d’Alene High declared war against drugs at school this spring and learned a valuable lesson in government process and constitutional rights.
They had no problem finding student support. Dozens signed petitions agreeing drugs are a problem. Dozens wrote down their experiences with illegal substances on campus. For example, “I have seen athletes popping steroids before games. I have had coaches come to practice drunk and high,” wrote one senior.
Nathan’s group didn’t mind risking its popularity, which is substantial, for the cause. But administrators weren’t willing to risk lawsuits over constitutional rights violations.
Students quickly wearied of what they saw as bureaucratic hurdles and eventually lost momentum.
“We had the facts. The problem is staring us in the face,” says Kim, her red hair dancing with each emphatic shake of her head. “All the procedures we had to go through frustrated us a lot.”
But Steve Casey, Coeur d’Alene High’s principal, says there’s reason for the procedures.
“We’re dealing with civil rights issues,” he says. “What we have to remember is that there is another group out there that doesn’t feel the same way they feel.”
Worries about friends they’d seen stoned more often than not, drunken athletes they believed no one punished, started the seven seniors brainstorming in February.
“I have a really close friend I’ve known for 10 years who smokes grass, gets drunk, high,” Nathan says. “He won’t stop. I’d rather have him go through some punishment now than have him gone by our 10-year reunion.”
Their attack plan was merciless. It called for definite rules and absolute consequences, automatic referrals to police, random drug tests for athletes and random car searches. They also wanted the school to ask parents to approve student drug and breath tests.
They invited Lake City High to participate.
The students didn’t know a drug-dog search of school parking lots was about to occur. But they wholeheartedly approved it, after the fact. They wanted more.
Administrators encouraged the seniors’ plans at the same time they herded the kids into the mind-boggling maze of school district officialdom.
Administrators at a variety of levels analyzed and debated the plans. In letters to parents, they defended their turfs and their programs. Meanwhile, the seven students begged for action.
Their enthusiasm waned when their attack plan landed on an attorney’s desk and spring sports began demanding their time.
Ironically, the attorney found ways to implement most of the steps the students want to take. But he advised against letting parents sign away their children’s constitutional rights.
“Our biggest regret was that we couldn’t get more done, that there were too many loopholes,” Kim says.
She and Nathan worry that their student-initiated fight against substance abuse will end with their graduation. But Casey says it won’t.
“This senior class is excellent, took the bull by the horns. We just have to challenge the juniors to do the same,” he says. “This is a hard one. Change takes time.”
Which is something the kids don’t have.
Wake-up call
Afternoon milkshake runs to Paul Bunyan revitalize The Idaho Spokesman-Review newsroom. How does your office shake off the sleepies? Share your secret formula with Cynthia Taggart, “Close to Home,” 608 Northwest Blvd., Suite 200, Coeur d’Alene, ID 83814; send a fax to 765-7149; or call 765-7128.
, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo