Recruiting Blues

Activists want military off high-school campuses

Damon Hodge

Microphone pressed to his mouth and a steady stream of pizza-toting Little Caesars customers staring him down, Joe Sacco unleashes on the U.S. military: "We are here to combat the message of a U.S. government that continues this racist and sexist practice ..."


It's Friday afternoon and Sacco is talking about the military's near-omnipresence on high-school campuses. He's talking about this in front of the locked doors of the U.S. Army Recruiting Station on the southwest corner of Lake Mead and Nellis. Good thing the office is closed: The Army might not take too kindly to seeing its office graffiti-ed with disparaging placards.


The only soldier in sight is a lifesized poster of an armed, helmeted warrior. If he could talk, he might spray Sacco and the half-dozen or so peace activists with vitriol about how they're anti-American, antimilitary, pantywaists. About how their movement, Project Counter Recruitment—part of a national push to limit military access to high-school campuses—undermines the war on terror and demoralizes troops. About how they'd prefer we go all Dr. Phil on America-hating jihadists.


Wearing days' worth of stubble and an American flag draped over his shoulders, Sacco has that not-quite-hippie look—just needs a tie-dyed shirt and some Birkenstocks. But he's serious as all get-out about what he says are the military's hyper-aggressive recruitment tactics. So what if the military is struggling to meet recruitment goals? Brainwashing high-school students is the wrong way to fortify an all-volunteer fighting force.


"This is not a partisan issue, it's not about being antimilitary, it's not a pro-war or antiwar issue, it's not about being pro- or anti-Bush," says Sacco, a full-time union stagehand. "It's about raising awareness of the lies and deception and marketing practices of the U.S. military. The Army even has a school recruiting program handbook. We want to explain to parents how to get out of giving the military access to their child's information and that taking the (military placement) ASVAB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) test is optional. Ultimately, the goal is to get the military out of our schools."


At some schools, Sacco says, recruiters are everywhere—classes, hallways, cafeteria, bathrooms. They had Debra Ghobrial's 14-year-old daughter ready to strap on an assault rifle and look for Abu Musab al-Zarqawi herself. Ghobrial says the recruitment extended outside of school. Evening brought a fusillade of calls that stopped only when she put the smack down. "It's like they're used-car salesmen," Ghobrial says on her way into Little Caesars. "They're not supposed to talk to kids until they're 16."


High schools have long been fertile recruitment grounds for the military. The web page for the Clark County School District's Curriculum and Development Division even touts the benefits of a career in uniform: "Educational and/or career training through graduate degrees, opportunity to become a commissioned officer through ROTC or military academies, travel, specific guaranteed training upon entry, a community with a variety of attractions, free medical and dental care, lower cost commissary and post exchange service, guaranteed pay, promotion opportunities, access to a cadre of trained consultants and counselors, and free legal assistance."


In a December report on PBS' The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, Army Lt. Col Dan Daoust defended military recruiting in high schools. "It would be great if we had all the resources in the world to be able to go throughout all the neighborhoods and contact them in their homes, but they simply don't. The easiest way to make contact with them is when they are all in one location."


District policy on military recruiting conforms to a provision in the 2001 No Child Left Behind Act mandating public schools give military recruiters access to students' personal information, including home address and telephone number.


"The federal government says we have to provide the military access to juniors and seniors," says Jane Kadoich, CCSD's director of guidance services. "Recruiters will set up tables in cafeterias or do classroom presentations. We look at the military as another career pathway. Some students will go to college. Some will go into apprentice programs. Some will go into the military."


Kadoich also notes the popularity of ROTC programs. Basic and Desert Pines have Marine ROTC. Centennial, Chaparral, Clark and Eldorado have Navy ROTC. Durango, Palo Verde, Rancho and Western have Air Force ROTC. Bonanza, Las Vegas and Valley have Army ROTC.


Genelle Baltutis, a founder of Project Counter Recruitment's local chapter, says school board trustees got all pro-war, pro-Bush when the group first tried to amend the district's all-or-nothing opt-out policy. If students opted out of receiving military recruitment information, they also forfeited correspondence from colleges and universities. More troubling, though, were recruitment efforts disguised as something else.


"At Rancho, they bused a bunch of ESL (English as a second language) students to CCSN (Community College of Southern Nevada) for a Planning for Life event sponsored by the Army," says Baltutis, a database analyst for a marketing firm. "They had the highest-ranking Latina in the Army speaking to students. They were basically recruiting them. Interrupting education for military recruitment is not right."


Sacco says students at Desert Pines High were receptive to Project Counter Recruitment handouts distributed on the public sidewalks fronting the school. One flier notes seven reasons not to enlist. Reason No. 7: It's very difficult to change your mind once you sign up.


Many of the soldiers fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq are "darker than me," says protestor Justin Kidd, who is white and ponytailed. His sign elicits a honk or two from Hispanic motorists driving south on Nellis. "La Muerte En Iraq No Es Un Opportunidad De La Carrera." Death is Iraq in not an opportunity for a career.


The rally is wearing down. Sacco still has the protesters enrapt. One lady's sign—"He didn't go. Why should you?"—draws a glare from a man coming out of Cash 1, a payday loan business.


So what's next for Project Counter Recruitment?


Sacco or Baltutis aren't sure. Could be more rallies. Could be targeting high schools with high concentrations of minorities, such as Rancho and Western. "We haven't thought about it," Baltutis says.


They'll certainly press school trustees to fulfill a promise made during last Thursday's board meeting to change the opt-out policy next semester to allow students to keep their information from military recruiters and still receive notices from colleges and universities.


"That is a success," Sacco says.


Coming out of Little Caesars, Chris Devereaux is pissed. Not necessarily because the protest is drawing attention. She's a military wife. Lives on Nellis Air Force base. Has a husband who recently completed a 16-month tour of Korea. Our troops need support, she says, not criticism.


"I know what they're doing and I'm not happy," says Devereaux, who teaches at Nellis' on-base elementary school, Lomie Heard. "Not all children have a chance for (higher) education. The military is a good option. It gives people the ability to get out of their situations. I'm very upset about this protest."

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