It Ain't Like Coolidge Street

I recall one time as a kid helping my Dad paint the outside of our house on Coolidge Street in Phoenix. (That was before they installed the vinyl siding.) The original brick exterior was white. We painted it gray. For access we had an extension ladder and a simple stepladder. That involved a lot of climbing up and down the ladder, carrying paint cans and roller pans, not to mention brushes and rollers, and rags, and edgers, and all the accoutrements of DIY housepainting. I don't remember how long the project took, but I imagine quite a few days...a bonding experience for Dad and son.

Recently a Japanese contractor repainted the exterior of our house here on the Yokosuka Navy Base. The process would have fascinated Stuart.

First, a very nice Japanese lady who speaks excellent English stopped by to inform us that this project would take place over about a two week period. She also provided us with a detailed written game plan, telling us exactly what to expect on any given day. Follow-on daily notes stuck to our front door documented progress to plan, which included some unavoidable weather delays. Sometimes the nice Japanese lady would stop by, with the non-English speaking foreman, to provide verbal updates and a preview of the day ahead.

Several days were devoted to erecting elaborate scaffolding encircling the entire house. I am reminded of the erector set with which I whiled away countless childhood hours on Coolidge Street. 

Then the entire house was powerwashed. Following this step, an outer veil of material was attached to the scaffolding, presumably to keep paint spray and debris from escaping into the environment. It could also shade the painters as they worked in unseasonably high temperatures and afternoon sun.

Following the actual painting, a series of inspections resulted in another day of touch-up work. Then another inspection before the contractor was allowed to tear down the scaffolding. This step took two days. A final inspection authorized the contractor to actually remove the disassembled scaffolding to the next house down the street.

Careful advance planning. Attention to detail. Daily documentation of progress to plan. Frequent communications with the customer. Rigorous quality assurance. All resulted in a very nice-looking product. A good model for business, or for government.

I wonder how that house on Coolidge Street is looking these days.

Checking Sugar

The thin 55-year old man looks older than me. His name sounds Chinese and he does not speak much English. Per his triage sheet, he wants his blood sugar checked.

 "Why do you want your blood sugar checked?"

"I did not bring medicine to Palau."

"When did you come to Palau?"


"Five years."


"Oh. Okay. Are you diabetic?"


"I did not bring medicine to Palau."


"Okay. Got that." (So I'll do an actual history, looking for symptoms of diabetes.)


"Have you lost any weight?"


"Nine pounds."


"Over how long a time?"


"When I came to Palau."


"So you've lost 9 pounds in five years?" (Hmmm. I've lost and gained and lost and gained again three times that much weight over five years...)


"I did not bring medicine to Palau."


"Right."


"Are you thirsty? Hungry?"


"I drink much water and always hungry."


"Over how long a time?"


"I came to Palau five years ago."


"Right. Do you urinate a lot?"


"When I drink water I urinate."


"Okay. Any moreso recently?"


"I came to Palau five years ago."


"Okay. So, again, why did you want your blood sugar checked?"


"I did not bring medicine to Palau."


"What medicine?"


"Don't know."

"Blood sugar medicine?"

"Don't know."


"Right. Do you have any other symptoms?"


"Weak."


"How long?"


"Since I came to Palau."


"Right. Along with the nine pound weight loss?"


No answer. The man looks puzzled. Not as puzzled as I feel. I see that his blood glucose was 412. That would be high if it was a fasting blood specimen.


"Did you eat anything before you came here today?"


"Big breakfast."

"Right." I do a quick exam. He's thin, but no muscle weakness and no physical signs of diabetes.


"Okay, so the blood sugar we did doesn't count because you ate first. It needs to be done again when you are fasting, I mean when you haven't eaten since the night before. You can come back here tomorrow morning and we'll do it again. Or you can do it at the hospital. But we can't give you any medicine until we know what that fasting level is. Then there might be some other tests that need done. You would have to get those at the hospital." (I've seen the Palau Hospital. It's a good place. Much like a small rural community hospital in the States.)


"Okay."

I write out an order for a fasting blood sugar. He very pleasantly shakes my hand and thanks me.


We are running a free clinic in Palau this week as part of Pacific Partnership. Guess this man got his money's worth. On the other hand, if seen by a civilian practice in our country, the exact same episode would have racked up a healthy fee for "Office Visit, Initial."

Not sure I understand the value there.

Duped? Or Just Naïve?

If I invited you to a movie, would you come?
 
You'd probably want to know more before you commit your precious time. Title perhaps? Genre? Cast? Theme? Discerning theater patrons would likely opt in or out only once sufficiently informed whether the cinematic offering meets their preferences.
 
What if I invited you to a religious service? You'd probably want to know more about that too. Type of service? Denomination? Purpose? Sponsor? Few people would choose to dress up and attend just any religious service, especially in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.
 
What if the invitation was to a baccalaureate ceremony? Do you know what that entails? Does the following cryptic invite provide sufficient information as to the nature, theme, and purpose of the event?
 
"The Class of 2010 baccalaureate ceremony will take place on June 5^th at the base chapel.  Please encourage your child to attend and participate in his/her baccalaureate exercise."  -- KHS Senior Class Advisor Newsletter to Parents dated 10 May 2010.
 
What, exactly, is a baccalaureate ceremony?
 
Between the two of us, my wife and I have attended a total of 10 high school or college graduation ceremonies at both public and Catholic schools. We have never witnessed an event similar to last Saturday's "baccalaureate ceremony," to which the high school urged our offspring to attend, and for which we dutifully dressed up to support. By the end, we felt that our son and we had simply been proselytized by an evangelical branch of Christianity to which we don't care to subscribe. Nothing against them, mind you, just not our preference and not the one we've taught our son. Had we known ahead of time the nature and slant of the ceremony, we would have simply opted out. 
 
According to the leaflet issued at the ceremony, "The Baccalaureate ceremony...originated in 1432 at Oxford University....Today, this service is usually an interfaith one that celebrates the completion of an undergraduate academic career."
  
Wondering about the primary reference for this historical information, I later conducted a Google search, wherein I found multiple undocumented sites such as "Wikipedia" stating roughly the same description, including the inconsistent use of capitalization for the words, "baccalaureate," "service," and "ceremony." Apparently these non-authoritative websites simply quote each other, but none of them cite a primary source. 
 
Several other websites proffered some interesting definitions and legal advice to Christian sects wishing to host a religious baccalaureate ceremony at a public high school:
  
One court succinctly described a typical baccalaureate service as "generally intended to honor the high school's graduates, and characteristically included speeches, prayer, and songs with a Christian theme, organized and presided over by church pastors or other community religious leaders."
  
School officials may not ... organize a religious baccalaureate ceremony. If the school generally rents out its facilities to private groups, it must rent them out on the same terms, and on a first-come first-served basis, to organizers of privately sponsored religious baccalaureate services, provided that the school does not extend preferential treatment to the baccalaureate ceremony and the school disclaims official endorsement of the program.


Are baccalaureate services constitutional?




Yes, if they are privately sponsored. Public schools may not sponsor religious baccalaureate ceremonies. But parents, faith groups, and other community organizations are free to hold such services for students who wish to attend. The school may announce the baccalaureate in the same way it announces other community events. If the school allows community groups to rent or otherwise use its facilities after hours, then a privately sponsored baccalaureate may be held on campus under the same terms offered to any private group.

The terms "baccalaureate," "baccalaureate service," and "baccalaureate ceremony" carry a variety of definitions and manifestations. Just like the term, "movie," one really doesn't know what will accost one's senses and mind once the show starts, and whether it will make a pleasing or uncomfortable experience. We certainly did not expect a narrowly focused religious event featuring prayers that sounded like sermons, religious poetry, a single religious song by the high school choir, and a lengthy quasi-academic sermon. Beyond the choir rendition, no students or faculty played a role in the ceremony. It was, purely and simply, a Protestant service conducted by Protestant ministers and chaplains.

Upon asking, we were assured that this was not a school-sponsored event. It was organized by parents of graduating seniors. Must have been a subgroup of seniors' parents, since we two senior's parents knew nothing about it before it was advertised. Surely the organizers were well-meaning, but misguided in thinking that their particular viewpoint or beliefs would apply across the entire graduating class. Or maybe they just don't understand fundamental communication. 

This admittedly lengthy polemic is not about religion, high school graduation, or baccalaureate ceremonies. It is simply about communication: clear, concise, yet thorough and useful exchange of information. However well intentioned, the baccalaureate organizers and school officials failed miserably in communicating. The printed program strongly suggests lack of attention to detail. Otherwise how could the featured speaker's surname be spelled two different ways, each time incorrectly? How could a basic apostrophe be misplaced twice, in "Graduate's Entrance" and "Graduate's Exit." (Unless the authors really expected only one graduate to attend.) 


Sadly the dismal communication evidences a deeper underlying issue, one that is even more disturbing coming from an academic institution. Apparently the organizers and school officials simply assumed that their invitees understand the term "baccalaureate" the same as they do. No need to explain its nature, because surely everyone knows what to expect. Therein hides a frightening possibility. Our son attends a Department of Defense school. The students and their families represent the very essence of American diversity: ethnic, cultural, and religious. To assume that such a diverse group of motivated students and accomplished professional parents should all subscribe to a single faith perspective on the transition from youth to adulthood is a dangerous and unworthy precedent. 


The diversity of Americans makes our nation strong and enduring. We should celebrate that diversity at every opportunity. We cannot all be threaded through the eye of a single needle. And our children should not be subjected to a fundamentalist Christian ceremony as their only option for instilling faith into their commencement from high school youth to young adulthood.

So, anyone for a Baccalaureate Mass next year? Or maybe we should just go to a movie.