22% of Teachers Smoke Weed

[MarleySubs]

I bet a few teacher's I've had smoke/still smoke. The teachers I have now can't be smoking, most of them are all hyped up on the DARE bullshit.

I really wouldn't think any different of them whether they smoked or not, I wouldn't call it unprofessional nor professional. As long as their doing their job and doing it correctly then it's pretty much...Who cares? I've noticed some of your parents are teachers and they have been "best teacher of the year"...Well, that's pretty damn good in my book.

If I where a teacher, i'd still smoke pot, I wouldn't or couldn't ever be open about it.

And smoking with a student is like...harassment, in a way, it's just awkward and weird.

[Jewlez]

Originally Posted by aft3rsh0kk

jewelz youd have to be straight retarded to actually think it was ok to admit being a pot smoker to your students.

Dude I never once said it was ok to admit to being a pot smoker;you tell every student to not smoke pot! "It’s a bad thing" bla bla bla all the shit they told all of us!Obviously I would never tell some little kid to go hit a joint! I said it was fine to be a teacher and burn it down! what the hell is wrong with that!

why are you people so far up my ass

[badgoalie85]

i think someone said earlier that you should look at this the same way you would look at a teacher drinking with a student. it's just a line that shouldn't be crossed.

[OldMan&TheWeed]

ACCLAIMED TEACHER ARRESTED ON MARIJUANA CHARGES

Dallas Morning News 10-13-95

Slidell, La.-- A former teacher of the year in St. Tammany Parish and her husband were arrested Thursday after deputies found 10 marijuana plants growing in their home. Laurie Wilder Maschek, 32, a fifth-grade teacher at Abney Elementary School, and James Maschek, 34, face charges of marijuana cultivation and possession with intent to distribute. Deputies said that the plants, which were about 7-8 feet tall, were growing in specially treated soil in individual plastic containers inside a room with a 1,000-watt light bulb used to provide maximum growing conditioins. Mrs. Maschek's plaque for being 1992 parish teacher of the year was hanging behind the plants.

[Ziggy Fry]

So obviously weed wasn't keeping her from being the best teacher in the school.

Sin.Ziggy.

[OldMan&TheWeed]

Originally Posted by Ziggy Fry

So obviously weed wasn't keeping her from being the best teacher in the school.

Sin.Ziggy.

I believe that was the statement she was making by mounting the plaque with her plants.

[OldMan&TheWeed]

04-27-2008 17:25
6 Teachers Arrested for Smoking Marijuana

By Park Si-soo
Staff Reporter

Native English teachers working at private language schools were arrested on charges of repeatedly consuming an illegal drug.

The Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency said Sunday that it caught six native English teachers smoking marijuana. The foreigners in question have taught English at private language schools in Seoul and Gyeonggi Province. But police found they have taught students without an E-2 visa — a type of visa required to teach English here.

Police also apprehended two drug suppliers — a 40-year-old Ghanaian and a 31-year-old Korean going by the name of Lee. Another Korean running a private language institute was also arrested on charges of employing unqualified foreign teachers.

According to police, the foreigners, who purchased the drug from the Korean supplier, had smoked it more than 10 times at the supplier's house in Ilsan, Gyeonggi Province.

The Korean, the son of a professor at a prominent university here, had bought 160 grams marijuana worth 2.4 million won from the Ghanaian from August 2007 till early April this year.

``Most of those arrested have used the drug in their home countries,'' said Kim Ki-sung, a police officer. ``They smoked the illegal drug three or four times a week and some of them made tools on their own to inhale the smoke easily.''

The officer pointed out this kind of crime is on the rise in the wake of the government's move to loosen regulations on E-2 visa issuance, resulting in a growing number of E-2 visa applicants.

According to the Justice Ministry, annual E-2 visa applicants were less than 10,000 in 2006 before topping 13,782 last year.

Last September, the government tightened visa regulations after a group of native English teachers were arrested on charges of smoking hemp, mandating E-2 visa applicants to submit police checks and undergo blood tests. But it suddenly withdrew the regulation on March 15, saying ``In some countries, smoking marijuana is not illegal. Thus, we see the restriction is unnecessary.''

Opining that the deregulation has largely attributed to an increase in drug-related crime, Kim said ``Visa screening needs to be intensified further.''

[marauder]

bullshit

[MrDro]

i believe it i know a few ppl who are in school now to be teachers and they smoke. i have teachers who have admitted they smoked and always talk about the 60s-70s being the greatest times of their lvies

[magicbus]

Techies almost always smoke weed, in my experience.

That being said, I'm a bit of a techie myself.

[OldMan&TheWeed]

I'm sure there are many here who work in education.

[OldMan&TheWeed]

Community in shock over Harford man's drug charges
Ecologist, decades-long teacher revered by residents

By Kevin Rector

Sun reporter

August 10, 2008

For many, Bob Chance has been the face of ecology in Harford County.

He taught earth science during a three-decade run in the public schools - and was named to the school system's Hall of Fame. He promoted recycling long before the government got involved. He wrote a nature column for the local paper, won election to public office, and showed countless youngsters the wonders of the great outdoors as Ranger Bob.

And now he is, at 62, a defendant in a drug case.

Authorities say he has been growing marijuana at the farm where he raises and sells Christmas trees. And they say they found enough of the drug, either in plant form or packaged in freezers, to roll thousands of joints - so they are taking steps to seize his farm.

Some who know Chance think that's going too far. He is an "old hippie," but is no drug dealer, said Terence O. Hanley, a Bel Air town commissioner and former mayor who has known him for 30 years.

"Everybody, quite frankly, that I have run into thinks it's absurd that he's being charged with the intent to distribute," Hanley said. "Here's a guy who has really done a lot of great things for our town, our community, our kids. I'm shocked that he's in this predicament, and I only wish the best for him. I would hate to see this man lose his farm."

But Harford County State's Attorney Joseph I. Cassilly said police and prosecutors have a duty to treat Chance the same as everyone else.

"I don't think there's two standards in the community - that there's one standard for regular people who go around and don't do all the things this guy does and then there's another standard for people who have done all the things this guy does," Cassilly said.

Chance has pleaded not guilty to the charges, which also include allegations that he had hallucinogenic mushrooms at his farm. He declined to discuss his case, on the advice of his lawyer.

But he gave a tour of his property, Environmental Evergreens Tree Farm.

"I always try to bring nature into a place," he said.

The farm is down a rural road off Route 1 in Darlington, not far from the Susquehanna River. Plants thrive there, and ponds harbor rare species of turtles and fish. Frogs rest on lily pads, and dragonflies buzz about. His six yellow Labradors run free.

His home, which he says dates to 1888, is full of artifacts and fossils from his jaunts to Africa, the South Pacific Islands, Costa Rica and New Zealand. Walls are covered with awards and pictures of him with kids who attended his nature camps and with customers who bought their Christmas trees from him.

"He's just a great, community-minded guy," Hanley said. "His volunteerism here in Harford County has been invaluable."

An Evening Sun editorial described him in 1992 as an "ecological visionary."

Chance grew up in Carney and received bachelor's degrees in geology and geography from what is now Towson University before moving to Harford County in 1968 to teach earth science and ecology at Bel Air High School.

In 1972, he started the Susquehannock Environmental Center, believed to be one of the country's first recycling centers. In 1974, he won a spot on the Bel Air Board of Town Commissioners, serving until 1978.

In 2001, after teaching for more than 30 years at Bel Air and C. Milton Wright high schools and the Harford Glen Environmental Education Center, Chance was inducted into the Harford County Public Schools Educators Hall of Fame.

For decades, Chance has written an environmental column for local newspapers called Earth Line. In 2006, he was featured in the book Weird Maryland as "the region's Bigfoot expert."

Since retiring from teaching in 1999, Chance has run nature camps for children as Ranger Bob, a name he also used years ago in appearances on the children's television show Romper Room. He has sold evergreen trees from his farm since the early 1980s, growing out his beard and dressing as Santa each holiday season.

The drug charges are not Chance's first. In 2004, he received probation before judgment on a marijuana possession charge that stemmed from a 2003 arrest for driving under the influence of alcohol. According to court documents, officers searching Chance's pickup truck after pulling him over found a glass cylinder containing a burnt joint in the glove compartment. He was given two years' probation for the charges.

In May, Harford County detectives and investigators from the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, acting on a tip, raided his farm, court records show.

According to a statement by Harford County Deputy Sheriff Sean Marston in federal court documents, detectives found 12 marijuana plants growing outdoors, seven plants growing indoors, more than a pound and a half of packaged marijuana in freezers in outbuildings, and about 33 grams of hallucinogenic mushrooms.

Marston wrote that the number of plants growing on the property indicated to him that the marijuana was not just for personal use. And he did some math. He wrote that an average plant produces about one pound of processed marijuana and that each pound of marijuana yields about 908 joints. If Chance smoked one joint every two hours, it would take him about four years to smoke all the marijuana on his property, Marston calculated.

Detectives also found multiple marijuana joints, one of which Chance was believed to be smoking when the raid began, Marston wrote.

The details provided by Marston are under dispute, said Augustus Brown, Chance's attorney, but he declined to elaborate. Chance has filed a motion to suppress the evidence taken from his home, contending that it was obtained without probable cause and without a necessary warrant.

Chance is charged with possession of marijuana; possession of marijuana with intent to manufacture or distribute it; manufacturing or distributing marijuana; possession of hallucinogenic mushrooms; and common nuisance, which is a charge for allegedly using his property to orchestrate drug activities.

Cassilly said that the charge for manufacturing or distributing the marijuana stems from the quantity of marijuana found on Chance's property and that it is "more of a manufacturing case" than one of distribution. Other than quantity, there is no mention of evidence suggesting distribution in federal court documents.

Chance's trial is scheduled for Oct. 22. If convicted of all five counts, he will face a maximum of 20 years in prison.

In addition, the federal government has filed a civil complaint to seize his house and farm under a law that allows the taking of land used for illegal drug dealing.

According to land records, the value of Chance's property, including his home, was $267,390 as of last year.He and his ex-wife bought the property in 1978 for $88,000, records show.

The property represents his entire life savings, Chance said.

Susan Burdette, programs specialist for the Harford County Public Library, where Chance has long taught educational nature programs featuring live snakes and turtles, said she was surprised by the charges.

"He's a natural teacher," Burdette said. "A lot of the kids are scared of the snakes at first, but always by the end of the program, everyone wants to touch them."

Chance is "a party guy, and he likes to have his fun, but I never pictured him as a drug dealer or a kingpin or anything like that," said Todd Holden, who served on the board of the Susquehannock recycling center with Chance before it closed in 2004. "I've never heard anybody bad-mouth him." Chance says he isn't as robust as he used to be, having fought prostate cancer in the early 1990s and with skin cancer now. But he still plays tennis on his property's clay court. He has continued running his summer nature camps for children and recently took them kayaking, he said.

In a 1995 article about him in The Sun not long after his prostate cancer had gone into remission, Chance called tending to the property his "therapy."

"I put all the energy I have left onto this little piece of land," he said. "I come here to search for peace."

Community in shock over Harford man's drug charges -- baltimoresun.com

[Dozer McDozer]

Hmm i'm gonna read this later but yeah i had teachers last year that did and i think one still does.

2 were english teachers, the other taught gov't and economics. Few others did too i'm sure.

[SpankyMcLankey]

I know this kid that I grew up with, his parents are VERY successful people. He started going to a private school in another state in high school. He comes back every summer and we smoke with him almost everyday. He got into a (NICE!) ivy league school too, along with his buddies at his private school that smoke...

Oh and today in class a teacher basically admitted it. It went something like this..

This kid with dreadlocks and a head band says,"I'm John Doe, but every one calls me Hippy. I don't know why either."

Teacher,"Well then we have something in common."

The class is fucking awesome to say the least.

[Tai-pan]

As an IT professional and weed smoker myself, I fully endorse this article!

[slapstick]

before I got thrown out (police escort and all), I went to an art school, and you know for sure some of my teachers smoked. our friends would have a tuesdayfest, every, you guessed it, tuesday.
surprisingly, one of our teachers that had quit showed up. nobody will admit to telling her where and when it was, but damn she had some bomb weed.

[OldMan&TheWeed]

Reefer Madness: January 1997
By Drew Linsay

. . .

But Hearn will tell you one thing: Though she spent 27 years at the head of a classroom in Georgia's Savannah-Chatham County school system, and though she was once named the district's top teacher, she's not teaching. Hearn is perhaps the best teacher ever fired on account of a half-smoked, hand-rolled joint.

Her fall from grace began on April 4, 1996. That day, like every other school day for the past quarter century, she was in her classroom at Windsor Forest High in Savannah. A native of the city, Hearn had grown up with one ambitionto teach. And she was good at it. Nearly a generation of kids had fallen under her spell; she was the fiery social studies teacher who breathed life into relics like the Constitution. In 1994, she was named the district's Teacher of the Year.

By the end of that day, however, Hearn's reputation would be in tatters. In the morning, the local sheriff's department joined with campus police to sweep Windsor Forest for drugs and weapons. This wasn't unusual: As part of a safety campaign, Savannah-Chatham had conducted more than 150 such searches of its 15 middle and high schools in recent years. Each time, the target school was "locked down" while police went room to room, searching students and their belongings with drug-sniffing dogs and hand-held metal detectors. Hearn had protested the sweeps many times. They violated the kids' constitutional rights, she had complained to colleagues, officials, and even the superintendent. But this time around, she stood silently.

Later that morning, police expanded the search to include the school's parking lot. There, one of the drug dogs-Corporal Sonya, by name—hit on Hearn's 1980 Oldsmobile. In the car's ashtray, campus police found a hand-rolled cigarette. A field test proved it to be marijuana. Hearn was called out of class, read her Miranda rights, and ordered to take a drug test.

The teacher denied the dope was hers. She knew nothing about it, she told the officers; a student sneaking a toke in the parking lot might have panicked when police rolled up and stashed the joint in the unlocked car. Police couldn't even produce the evidence. Officers told Hearn it was destroyed in the field test.

District officials, meanwhile, demanded that Hearn report to a lab for a urinalysis. Policy requires such a test when a teacher is suspected of drug use. But Hearn balked. What would her students think? To the teacher, the drug-test policy, like the lockdowns, violated the Fourth Amendment's protection against unreasonable search and seizure. For years, she had urged students to stand up for their constitutional rights; those rights, she cautioned them, had been paid for with the blood of thousands of Americans. If she were to be true to her teaching, Hearn concluded, she would have to refuse the drug test. So she did.

Police didn't file charges against Hearn—it would have been hard to make a case stick without the joint as evidence—but Savannah-Chatham fired the teacher. At a 16-hour school board hearing the next month to determine her fate, dozens of students and colleagues testified to her teaching talent and to her drug-free lifestyle. But officials held firm. Hearn's contract stipulated that she abide by school policies, the district's lawyer argued; her refusal to take the drug test was "naked insubordination." Letting her off the hook would only encourage others to break rules.

With that decision, Hearn was shut out of the Savannah classrooms that had anchored her life since she was a tot. The teacher sued, but knowing the court battle would drag on for years, she began looking for work in nearby districts. On every application, she duly noted her firing and explained the circumstances. But nothing turned up. As time went on and panic set in, Hearn widened her search and traveled the state to plead her case at any school with an opening. "I just waited in the hall until I could get five minutes with the principal and let him know that I didn't have horns," she says.

Once, she was interviewed and hired at a South Carolina school a few hours away from Savannah, only to have the principal call and rescind the offer by the time her car pulled into the driveway at home. Desperate, she began applying for any post that would earn her the roughly three years of state service in Georgia she needed to collect her pension—librarian, college bookstore manager, even secretary. She briefly took a job as a caseworker for state Medicaid recipients. Finally, in the summer of 1998, she got a job teaching English—at a state-run juvenile detention center.

The work proved hellish. The center had no janitors, so teachers were forced to scrub the classroom floors and toilets. Most days, Hearn pushed a cart piled with books from cellblock to cellblock. Her classes of 20 students ranged in age from 8 to 20 and included kids convicted of anything from truancy to sexual assault. One small boy had been jailed for setting his grandmother's house on fire.

Still, Hearn managed a few breakthroughs. She got a group of girls hooked on Emily Dickinson poems and spurred an older inmate to do SAT prep work. Once, when she read aloud from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart"—How, then, am I mad?—the kids were transfixed, the clang of jail cells and the echo of her words in the cement cellblock conspiring for eerie atmospherics. "It was truly spooky," Hearn recalls. "When I finished, they stood up and applauded."

In January 1999, about seven months into Hearn's stint at the center, NBC's Dateline aired a report on her firing from Windsor Forest and her ongoing court battle. Hearn says she told her supervisor about the potential Dateline story when she interviewed for the job. Nonetheless, officials fired her a couple of weeks after the broadcast. They denied the move was connected to the report, but Hearn says they refused to offer any explanation. In fact, she adds that only a few days before her termination, she had received a largely satisfactory performance evaluation.

Hearn had no better luck in her court case. Her lawyers took two tactics. First, they cited a double standard in the district's decision to fire Hearn for violating policy. Specifically, they noted that police had neglected to get Hearn's consent to search her car—consent required by the district's own policy. Second, the lawyers argued that the search was illegal under the Fourth Amendment. But the courts were not sympathetic. A federal district judge dismissed her suit in 1998, . . .

Though these rulings suggest she misread the Constitution, Hearn says she has no second thoughts. She kept faith with her students, some of whom have sent her letters of support. After watching the Dateline report, one wrote, "I again felt compelled—compelled to tell you thanks for inspiring me, thanks for inspiring others, and most importantly, thanks for practicing what you preach."

Even before the Supreme Court's ruling, Hearn had become a hero to civil liberties advocates. Activist and columnist Nat Hentoff used Hearn's story as a case study in his 1998 book, Living the Bill of Rights: How To Be an Authentic American. And the Rutherford Institute, a nonprofit civil liberties organization, backed her appeal to the Supreme Court.

"She showed great courage in how she taught and how she lived her life," says John Whitehead, the institute's president and the lawyer who handled her appeal. "It's too bad she didn't get her day in court."

To others, Hearn's case was a tragedy of her own making. "It was her call and her judgment," says Leamon Holliday, attorney for the Savannah-Chatham school board. "No school district wants to lose a good teacher. A lot of people are disappointed that she made the choice that she did."

Lockdowns and police sweeps continue in the district's schools, Holliday says. "It's a battle," he explains, "and it's a battle we have to fight because schools are a part of a society that's violent." The sweeps aren't done as frequently as they once were, however. "With this kind of tactic," Holliday says, "you reach a point of saturation."

Hearn, meanwhile, adjusts to a new life. Last spring, her daughter, Jennifer, finished her first year as an elementary teacher. The 23-year-old has wanted to teach all her life—just like her mother—but she's sworn never to work in Savannah. Hearn's son, Richard, lives at home and works as an electrician. A student at Windsor Forest when his mother was fired, he was deeply troubled by the turmoil. A few months before, police had singled him out for a search during a lockdown, claiming he reeked of marijuana. Afterward he caught flak from friends who believed the joint in his mother's car was his.

Hearn, however, says that would have been impossible. Only 15 at the time, Richard was not allowed to drive by himself, she says, and he had been in class all morning. Moreover, he told her he knew nothing about the pot. "Richie's not a perfect child," she says. "But I'm certain in my heart that it wasn't his. He's never lied to me."

The Hearns' new house was originally built by Dick's parents for their retirement. Richard and Jennifer learned to swim in the lake, and the family spent many happy hours there. "We've come home," Hearn says. Soon, she and Dick hope to build a cabin on some property in the mountains of north Georgia, land they nearly sold when money got tight.

As for her new job, Hearn secured the post a little more than a year ago. She'll say only that she's happy. "But it's not in a classroom," she adds. "I've known all along that, unless I win in court, I will never work in the classroom again. Now, that's lost forever."

Teacher Magazine: Reefer Madness: January 1997