By George N. Schmidt

The feeling of being under military occupation that has pervaded Chicago’s Nicholas Senn High School since the opening of the ‘Rickover Naval Academy’ inside Senn in September 2005 was palpable not only inside the school but to the surrounding community on November 7, 2005.

That day, Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley ordered the streets surrounding Senn cleared of vehicles. Daley’s advanced teams ensured that the lawns surrounding Senn were cleared of autumn leaves. The staff parking lot behind Senn High School was partially cleared of teachers, students, and members of the press, who were told by police, Board of Education security, and federal Homeland Security personnel that the parking lot was off limits to all. The Senn High School auditorium was protected from Senn’s 1,500 students and 120 teachers behind a phalanx of more than 100 Chicago police officers, Board of Education security personnel, and unidentified others (reported to be federal Homeland Security people)

It took more than one-hundred security people deployed inside and around Senn High School for Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley (above, fourth from left) to join U.S. Navy officials and others for the November 7 dedication of the Hyman G. Rickover Naval Academy at Chicago’s Senn High School. The security procedures for the event excluded the Senn faculty and student body, while local officials tried to fill seats in the auditorium with public school bureaucrats, politicians,  and senior citizens. Approximately 100 Rickover “cadets” were present, some with their families, while double that number of Senn High School stdudents walked out in protest as the event was taking place in the well-guarded Senn auditorium. Substance photo by George N. Schmidt.

Meanwhile, public relations people tried to assure that the TV cameras were all pointed in the right direction to film the mayor and other dignitaries at a happy media event celebrating, once again, the greatest mayor of the greatest city in the USA. The challenge for the media handlers was to do the Rickover dedication without noticing that a large group of citizens — representing the majority of every group in the community from Senn students to Senn neighbors — were protesting against the Rickover dedication and the fact that Rickover was driving Senn High School out of its building after a honorable history stretching back a century.

The two “Ps” — police and publicity —were omnipresent November 7. Why the massive police and propaganda presence? As it became clear throughout the morning, all of the arrangements were done so that Richard M. Daley, U.S. Senator Dick Durbin, Daley’s handpicked schools CEO Arne Duncan, and several high-ranking U.S. Navy officers could preside over the dedication of the controversial military school without Daley having to hear from a community that has overwhelmingly rejected his militarization of public education in Chicago or answer the growing chorus of questions about his militarization of Chicago’s public schools.

Clearing the leaves and painting the roses red

“Welcome to our Potemkin Village,” said Craig Mousin, a member of the Save Senn coalition who lives across the street from Senn.

It was 10:00 a.m., an hour before the dedication of Rickover was to begin inside the massive building. A dozen grounds workers — more than Senn had seen in a decade — frantically rushed to clear every fallen leaf and scrap of waste paper from the expansive lawn in front of the school. The leaves and scraps were packed in black plastic bags, then hauled away before the mayor — characterized a few months ago by Time magazine as “imperial” — arrived.

The streets were also cleared, a bit ruthlessly in the eyes of some of Senn’s neighbors. A few minutes after 8:00 a.m., City of Chicago Department of Streets and Sanitation tow trucks began clearing the three streets adjacent to Senn of parked cars. The massive towing job began few minutes after a hastily posted 8:00 a.m. “No Parking” deadline had passed.

Even two dumpsters parked outside Senn for the expensive rehabilitation going on inside for the Navy had been moved away, while some of the grew that was clearing away the leaves also polished the mailboxes along adjacent streets.

Craig Mousin was standing in front of his home sipping a cup of tea.

A TV reporter came up to interview him while another reporter walked around the blocks surrounding Senn High School, counting a total of 24 Chicago police cars and other “M” (“Municipal”, often used by unmarked police cars) license vehicles on the three streets adjacent to the school and on the school’s parking lot.

The sound of leaf blowers and lawn tractors echoed throughout the community. By 10:00 the tow trucks were gone and most of the waste paper and leaf bags had been hauled off, too. Someone was washing the postal boxes on the street. By the time the official program began, Senn’s grounds would sparkle like they hadn’t in years.

Dissent a threat to Daley

The efforts to suppress dissent that characterize Daley’s Chicago were palpable all morning.

A little after 7:00 a.m., a Board of Education security guard had threatened a local pacifist who was distributing leaflets opposing the military academy.

A few minutes after the security guard hastily retreated in the face of a reporter’s questions, a local vigilante “parent” had arrived on the scene to spread a bit of local rumor and demand loudly to know why the peace protesters were “inciting violence” inside the school by opposing the military presence.

Meanwhile, dozens of police officers from a distant police district — not officers from the local district who knew the residents and Senn’s students and teachers — were having breakfast in a nearby restaurant before being deployed to keep the protests away from the mayor and his entourage.

From the beginning of school in September, members of the Senn community had been asking when the military would dedicate the new military academy. As early as the beginning of October, it was clear that the military and city officials were going to keep the date of the dedication a secret for as long as possible.

In early October, Michael Biela, whose title is “Academy Superintendent” (not “principal”) of the Rickover Naval Academy, told this reporter that the date of the dedication had not been set. Other sources made it clear that it was known, and then a disinformation campaign began. Biela scheduled, then cancelled, a tour of the school and interview for Substance. He claimed that he was too busy. Board of Education officials made is clear that the only reporters who would get to see the new “Rickover Naval Academy” officially in action would be those the mayor counts on to provide him with positive public relations.

Throughout October, staff in the Chicago Board of Education’s massive Office of Communications either provided inaccurate information or claimed that they didn’t know the date of the dedication. Ultimately, they channeled all calls to the Mayor’s Press Office, which only returns calls those from reporters who routinely praise the mayor and his works.

To this date, the Mayor’s public relations staff, which is one of the largest municipal PR departments in the United States, has refused to provide Substance with its regular materials.

Less than a week before the Rickover dedication, Michael Vaughn of the Board of Education’s Office of Communications told Substance that the dedication was going to be held on November 7 (not on November 11, as other officials had earlier claimed).

Senn High School teachers were not told until Friday, November 4, that the building would be following special security procedures the following Monday (November 7). The November 4 meeting advised them not to park in the parking lot they generally used, because it was being turned into a security zone. Nobody in the school or community was warned that the city would also be towing vehicles from Ardmore, Glenwood, and Thorndale streets, adjacent to Senn. To the end, the Mayor’s Office refused to provide Substance with additional information and didn’t return phone calls asking for more detailed information. Even the number of vehicles towed on November 7 and the deployment of police from the Belmont District (rather than the district nearest Senn) was to remain something for which “none of your business” or “no comment” was the official answer.

Substance was not the only entity that was denied access to the planning information regarding the Rickover dedication. As late as the end of October, the principal of Senn High School, Richard Norman, told teachers he didn’t know when the event was taking place. No one on the faculty was informed, either. But as the planning for the event became clear, “Senn High School” was replaced by “Senn Campus” on the school sign. It became clearer to staff that higher ups at the school board were intimately involved in the planning and the paranoid security procedures that would descend on Senn’s 1,500 students, more than 100 teachers, and surrounding community on November 7.

At first, the Local School Council was also snubbed. Only after community protests were a small number of invitations extended to some members of the community and to members of the LSC. At least two layers of security screening were checking the passes that allowed people to enter the Senn auditorium for the event. Students were being detoured around the auditorium by aggressive outside security staff who had no concern with how the students were to get to classes in the huge building.

By the time the dedication began at 11:30 a.m., the auditorium was less than half full. The Senn auditorium can seat more than 1,000 people, but the paranoid security procedures put in place by the military and the mayor’s office ensured that more than three-quarters of the seats were empty. An attempt by schools CEO Arne Duncan to fill seats with high ranking administrators couldn’t do the job, and a few additional Navy officers and local VFW and American Legion types weren’t going to do it, either. Public relations people positioned TV cameras facing the stage over the small area that was actually almost filled with people. Behind the cameras loomed a vast stretch of empty seats — more than 500 — on the main floor and in the balcony.

Banishing leaves and scraps of paper

Cutbacks in engineering and custodial staff at the city’s high schools has left certain activities undone for years. One of these is annual leaf raking. Before Mayor Daley took over the public schools in 1995, most high schools had a custodial staff under the direction of the chief engineer. Lawns were mowed and leaves raked regularly. Once Daley took over, privatization and cronyism left most of the jobs undone, while the money out of the budget for such things actually increased.

As the day dawned on November 7, the vast lawn in front of Senn High School was covered with mostly yellow leaves from the dozens of trees in front and along the sides of the building. By noon on November 7, the leaves were gone from around Senn. At 8:00 a.m., when the tow trucks began putting the hook on cars in front of Senn, the leaves still covered both the lawns and the sidewalks around Senn. By 11:30 a.m., when the mayor’s limousine and tail car arrived, the leaves were gone.

The liturgy of the school reform ‘miracle’

Officially, the dedication was for the students of Rickover, all 100 or 110 of them, most of whom were there, some with their parents. The students from Rickover — but not the students from Senn — were the ostensible guest of honor November 7. Each of the main speakers duly noted their presence.

But the real purpose of the dedication was to once again venerate the work of Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley and what Chicago’s corporate leaders have hailed as a successful model for urban “school reform.” That purpose requires that a script of almost liturgical seriousness be followed whenever the mayor appears in an educational setting. The script calls for a certain level of veneration and the rededication of everyone present to the prevailing myths that corporate Chicago tells itself whenever the public schools are discussed. From a literary and theological point of view, every such event is designed to reinforce the “dominant narrative” by the kind of repetition of articles of faith usually reserved for religious ceremonies.

On November 7, Richard M. Daley was angry because his carefully scripted liturgy and recitation of beliefs was being disrupted by the presence of Senn High School’s 1,600 students and teachers and by a dignified community protest outside the building.

For the hour prior to the beginning of the event, Daley’s aides were regularly on the telephone with security personnel to make certain that the mayor’s limousine and tail car did not have to even pass the demonstration. This became more difficult when the unusual level of security resulted in the blockage of one end of the Senn parking lot by the arrival of the Great Lakes Naval Training Center “Ceremonial Band” in an unmarked truck. The truck carrying the military band secretly to Senn rolled across the parking lot and plugged the entrance into which the mayoral limousine was supposed to arrive.

Every mayoral media event is scripted to ensure, to the greatest extent possible, that the mayor is central to the television version of the narrative that goes out to the public. Mayoral aides even haul around a special podium (with handles on the sides) equipped with an extra step to increase the mayor’s height when he is speaking. The entire process is orchestrated was to give Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley another chance to be on television touting his “Renaissance 2010” plans to privatize as much as public education in Chicago as possible, it was a partial success.

There was a bank of television cameras carefully placed halfway back in the auditorium, facing the stage so that the vast array of empty seats in the back half of the auditorium and the entire balcony could not be seen.

Even before his arrival, it was clear to joking security personnel that Daley was angry at the protests and critics of his military and educational reform policies.

At most major media events, the main speakers work from prepared scripts that are given to them beforehand. Neither Richard M. Daley nor Arne Duncan ever appears in public without these scripts, and both Daley and Duncan had theirs for the November 7 event. Illinois Senator Richard (Dick) Durbin also had a script, repeating the same talking points about Daley’s success that are required whenever the mayor and schools meet for the media.

The event began after fanfare from the Navy band and the posting of the colors by marching Rickover cadets. The audience was greeted by Academy Superintendent Michael Biela. After Biela, Alderman Mary Ann Smith spoke, ignoring the fact that most of the people in her ward opposed the Rickover.

“Welcome to our beautiful wonderful neighborhood to those who don’t live here.” After thanking everyone present, she went on to claim that the community wanted the Rickover and to begin the recitation of the official version of events — that Rickover really wasn’t about the military training of children, but about “college preparatory option.

“We are seeking the best of the best for the City of Chicago,” Smith said. She said that her husband had been a Navy man and she had heard many Navy stories. “Listening to his stories,” she said, “I felt so confident that this was the right thing for our community.” Smith told the audience that the main role of the U.S. Navy in the world has been as “peacemakers…”

Like the mayor was to do, Smith cited World War II as an example of good things the U.S. military does. She did not mention Iraq. Smith also added the usual praise for Mayor Daley for his great work fixing the public schools, then introduced Daley himself.

Daley’s prepared remarks were relatively mild, although in no way proven were his claims about the successes of Chicago’s military academies. Two of the three existing academies have checkered records, and the Bronzeville Academy, which is always cited as a success, is acting more like one of the city’s selective enrollment magnet high schools. Daley went straight into the recitation of facts he is confident he will never be asked critical questions about.

Things were going smoothly for a few minutes. Then, about half way into his speech, Daley became visible angry, began waving his hands and raising his voice. Deviating from his prepared remarks, he chided those who criticized his military programs in the public schools. [A copy of the mayor’s prepared remarks will be posted at www.substancenews.com when this Substance is posted January 10].

What Daley was supposed to say sat before him as he began to add his own commentary to the text. “We get ten applicants at Bronzeville Academy for every student we take there,” Daley said, ignoring the Phoenix and Carver military academies, whose records are, at best, mixed. Daley also claimed, without data, that dropout rates in ROTC and at the military academies are better than the system as a whole. The data are more complex in such a large system, but Daley never faces critical questions about whether such comparisons are to the general high schools (which serve the city’s poorest populations) or to the handful of selective enrollment and magnet high schools (which generally serve the middle class).

It was clear as he went on in his deviations from the script that Daley was very concerned to answer public criticism that his military academies were militarizing the public schools and helping the military recruit Chicago children for careers in killing and being killed.

“Only six or eight percent go in as enlisted personnel,” he said, raising his voice. “The primary purpose of the military [academies] and ROTC is to educate your children and they are doing a very good job!”

Then Daley deviated further from his text, attacking the other city high schools, and implicitly Senn High School. “I wish the other schools would do a better job,” he continued, “at least what we’re doing in the ROTC and military academies.”

Then he seemed to echo the complaint that Senn is picking on Rickover while Rickover strips Senn: “Do not let any adult deter you from your opportunities,” he said, looking down at the cadets.

Daley’s voice raised again, and he launched into an attack on the anti-war protestors who had criticized the city’s expansion of military programs in the public schools. He claimed that those who opposed his military programs would have opposed ending slavery through the Civil War and ending the Holocaust through World War II.

“I love American history,” the mayor continued. “Some people picketing today would say it was wrong to do to the Civil War, to protect people from slavery. Some people would say, ‘Why should we go to World War II to protect people in Europe? Those are people in Europe.’ Many people would oppose the Second World War, saying why would we try to protect people in Europe, and those in concentration camps.”

In his syntactically unusual way, the mayor then wrapped up: “So the military has done a tremendous job... And even today we are doing that. And that is called public service. Instead of going to working in local or state of county government many people go into the ultimate public service, the military. The ultimate public service is the military. Dick Durbin has fought for us, stood again and again for money for public education. I want to thank him not only for the Rickover Academy, but for the other military academies.”

Daley also claimed that by providing more military programs in Chicago, he was helping Chicago children receive equal education with the suburbs, as if the suburbs were also expanding military academies the way Daley was in Chicago.

“Why should we deny children in Chicago these opportunities, while in the suburbs and collar counties they have these opportunities?” he asked rhetorically, flowing into what seemed to at least one observer as a Daleyesque non-sequitor. “And that’s why the Rickover Naval Academy is about excellence.”

And with that, Daley introduced Senator Durbin.

“This is the fourth military academy in the CPS,” Durbin said, after thanking the mayor and everyone present. “Mayor Daley has made a personal commitment. Daley has dedicated to making his administration making this the best.

“It wasn’t long ago that critics came to Chicago and branded this the worst public school system in the nation,” Durbin continued, quoting the words of former U.S. Education Secretary (and conservative propagandist) William Bennett.

“I worked with the mayor and Paul Vallas on Bronzeville Military Academy,” the senator continued. “Great Lakes is the premier naval training center in the nation,” he reminded the audience, and he said that it was only appropriate that this expansion of the military programs in Chicago’s public schools be as a naval program. “When the mayor said ‘Can you help us move forward?’ [with Rickover] I said I’d be glad to do it.”

Durbin also linked the military academies in Chicago with “school reform” nationally. “This demonstrates that the city and school system will stand together in the national effort to improve public education,” he said. Then, in an aside that struck at least some as odd, he spoke of the curriculum at Rickover as if it were unique in the public schools. “These cadets study physics as freshmen,” Durbin continued. “Physics as freshmen. I can’t wait to tell my fellow senators about these high school freshmen who are studying physics as freshmen.”

All of the prepared remarks for the event talked about Rickover as if it were a form of college prep activity, rather than as a direct pipeline to the U.S. armed forces. The official press release from the Mayor’s Office’s official press release underplayed the military aspect of the program, stated.

Schools CEO Arne Duncan stuck precisely to his prepared remarks, repeating his praise of the mayor for his wonderful leadership in making Chicago’s public schools a model for the nation. Duncan then turned the microphone over to a procession of military officers who talked about Rickover himself. The ceremony ended with an unexpected lecture on the importance of education and discipline from Eleanore Rickover, the widow of the man after whom the academy was named. After the band played “Anchors Away,” the ceremony was over. It had taken a little more than an hour.