My brother Andy got "shipped" from Pensacola Christian College. This is the term PCC students use for expulsion. Before I knew the details, I expected he just accumulated too many demerits for tiny infractions. I certainly accumulated a lot of them when I was there. For instance, having a clean room and your bed made when the floor-leader comes in to check in the morning. (The floor leader is a student whose job is to supervise the students on his or her hall.) I typically would get 5 demerits for not emptying my trash during morning check; another five for hair too long when they lined us up against the wall once a month for the dorm supervisor to inspect us; another five for being late to a class; another five for being caught out of bed or with a light on after 11 PM. More rules are listed here and here, but there are countless unwritten ones.

There are stages to the penalties. For 75 demerits in a semester, you get "campused." It means you can't leave campus for two weeks, and you're not allowed to speak to any other campused student during that period.

If you get 150 demerits in a semester, you are "shadowed", which means a floor leader is assigned to follow you everywhere and make sure you don't speak to any student, while they go through the process of expelling you. The term "shipped" is used for being expelled. Shipped students sometimes report gestapo-like intimidation tactics pressuring them into signing a lot of damaging paperwork without consulting a lawyer. A shipped student is abruptly dumped on the next flight home with a suitcase, and the rest of their belongings are literally shipped after them. Expelled students always have to sit out the rest of the semester and the one following, but after that, re-applications are considered on a case-by-case basis.

He got shipped for the dumbest thing. This requires some setup to explain. There is a men's sports field and a women's sports field. But the thing is, the men's sports field is on the other side of a little 2-lane road, Rawson Lane. My brother's friend Jeremy was playing sports on the Men's field and his girlfriend wanted to watch the game. Andy drove her there in his car. The road goes through school property but is defined as not on campus. When they drove across the road, they were for a moment "off campus" before they got back "on campus" on the other side of the road. Women are not supposed to go to the Men's Field at all except during a chaperoned sports event (and not all are chaperoned). Being with a student of the opposite sex off campus is always automatic expulsion.

That site is nearby where Rachel and I got "socialed" for talking on her way to work past my dorm when we were students there; but we were inside the fence, so we weren't expelled. Security caught us on the surveillance cameras. Speaking to a member of the opposite sex in an area without a chaperone results in being "socialed": we were not allowed to speak to any students of the opposite sex for two weeks.

Since you all share my opinion that my alma mater Pensacola Christian College (home of the famous "making eye babies" and "optical intercourse") is creepy and demented, I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you that I'm glad my brother is out of there, hopefully this time forever. He might be upset at the loss of all the money he's given the college, but it was wasted money for an unaccredited pre-med degree. I'll encourage him to apply to Macomb Community College or Oakland University.

Why do I keep reading PCCBoard*? I'm the board's resident infidel. I don't post all that much anymore, but when someone started a thread (click here) to wish me a happy birthday, and dozens of members chimed in, I felt like it would almost be rude not to participate.

Eventually, the results became predictably uncivil. Several people baited me, and I finally responded to one of them in a manner which I felt was non-inflammatory. This one was a suggestion that I should thank God for the good circumstances 2006 has brought me. It was thought-provoking to realize how many of the things I now enjoy are in direct contradiction to their teachings; even if their deity really existed, it would seem odd to thank him for things he prohibits. In fact, scripture states that divine punishment is reserved only to improve the character of the devout, serving as evidence that I will not be in heaven. If I were to accept that teaching, that's an incongruous thing to thank God for. The thread immediately descended into claims that I am incapable of logic, I receive my life's guidance from video games, I need to repent before I'm destroyed, and I should tell Spock hello.

Fortunately there are many on PCCBoard who sincerely wish me well and even like me; but given that so many fundamentalist churches teach that a funeral is a good time and place to point out that the deceased is in hell, it seems inevitable for the virtual birthday party to be crashed.

When people sincerely believe that your eternal destiny is at stake, it's reasonable, necessary, or even unavoidable to prioritize addressing that problem above all other concerns, given their views. I thought I was participating in a classy and pleasant discussion, but they don't perceive any such discussion in those terms. This is because they consider spiritual talk a "serious" topic, and I consider it no more of a downer than debating how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. The social customs are completely different than those in the reality-based community.


* PCCBoard.com is the unofficial messageboard of my wacky fundamentalist alma mater, Pensacola Christian College, which I have posted about many times.

My brother goes back to Pensacola Concentration Camp tomorrow. Because my responsibilities to two conventions happened to overwhelm me the past few weeks, I've hardly seen him during his Christmas break. I just got an e-mail asking if I can still bring over Monty Python and the Holy Grail and watch it with him tonight as I had suggested two weeks ago. Can words describe the many different feelings that this e-mail rouses in me?
Love. Andy is one of My People. He is like me and his life is following the same path. He is not like our parents or their church. He does not belong at PCC. I love him. I musn't cry at work...
Rage. He wants to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail with me on the eve of descending into the maw of the youth-stifling machine. It's like a last meal. This poetic contrast evokes rage at PCC, that another closet proto-fan is smothering in it as I did. I musn't cry at work...
Grief. It is with despondency almost to the point of grieving that I have decided to eat as short a dinner as possible with the Concom and GoHs, transfer the publications to someone, and skip the gathering afterward. I loved the Thursday night before ConFusion so much last year. I met and chatted with Robert Sawyer about handheld computers and I didn't even know who I was talking to. I sat with Eric Raymond and Bruce Sterling listening to them banter. If you know those two, ponder that concept in your mind. It was an unforgettable night and the highlight of the convention. My place is with someone else tonight. I musn't cry at work...

8/31/04, Edited to add: Oh yes, in my haste to describe the abuses I forgot to mention it's not accredited either. Putting up with four years of PCC accomplishes a diploma that isn't worth the paper it's printed on.

This week my brother is leaving to attend his first semester at my alma mater, Pensacola Christian College. Those of you who know me are aware of my views on that.

PCC bans the internet, forbids visits to off-campus libraries, and restricts speech to compliance with their narrow interpretation of doctrine. Maybe he has carefully considered that and sincerely decided it falls within educational goals rather than indoctrination. Perhaps after thoughtful review of my stories of wiretaps, mail opening, secret search and seizure and reporting on each other, and students suddenly being cordoned off incommunicado, interrogated and expelled in the middle of the night-- he may have decided it's exaggeration. After all, describing PCC as a non-violent version of the Taliban does sound like hyperbole to someone who hasn't experienced it.

Or perhaps instead he's settling for a lot of disagreeable things because it's the easy way, being so inexpensive. It also makes the throng of aimless 18-year-old confused muppets who wander through its gates look like stalwarts of spiritualized purpose to their parents and pastors. Which way he's taking is not for me to judge. Either way it's his life and I respect him doing with it as he wishes. Perhaps he's strong enough that a dozen repetitions of "Have Thine Own Way Lord" eight times a week will not lull him into a trance.

But I'll be here for him when he wants to know where to find the gaps in the compound's barbed-wire fence.( Read more... )