Not wanting to be too blatant, they proceed staring straight ahead until they are dead even with us.
I can feel eyes on my back and hear mutterings about my insincerity. "Your parents would want to know about it, and if it's OK with them, it's OK with the university."Although it shows signs of striving to reach some brand of acceptance, the troubled analogy between black and troublemaker is not far from Dr.Today's chapel message addresses the sins of the fool, which include "slander, perverse lips, contention and rage." It is a thinly veiled reference to the media, and I wonder if before I even got here the media had already overplayed its hand; it has certainly overstayed its welcome.BJU is no longer granting any interviews, and members of the press are forbidden on school grounds.Their appearances didn't have the same fallout as when presidential hopeful George W. The theory is that mixed breeding could lead to the destruction of earth and disintegration of humankind as we know it, according to Genesis 10 and 11, in which God destroys the Tower of Babel, scattering humans across the globe to prevent them from creating a one-world government. "The university wishes to give God the benefit of the doubt," explains the BJU Web site. Bob," as he is affectionately known to students and faculty), made a March 3 appearance on CNN's "Larry King Live." During the show, Jones offhandedly remarked, "As of today, we have dropped the [interracial ban]." Three days later, Dr.Bob clarified his statement, saying that students would need to submit a signed parental consent form to the dean before the school would allow them to commingle. Although neither of us was sure what BJU defines as a "serious dating relationship," we figured it was somewhere between first and third base.When I reveal myself as media, however, their eyes cloud over and their voices adopt an icy, formal politeness with just a slight edge of "get out of my sight" disgust."You need to talk to [university spokesman] Jonathan Pait," one student says in a monotone. My only hope is to assume I am in the cross hairs, so I put my head down and set off in an elusive zigzag pattern for the getaway car, where Denise -- I hope -- is waiting with the engine running.The subterfuge doesn't completely work -- at least four young men in coats and ties demand, "Are you a student?" I give them a reassuring but complexly noncommittal gesture before ducking into the throng.So Denise and I hit the campus grounds on foot, tucked and buttoned into our Sunday best and full of ersatz evangelical zeal.To get the full campus tour, I thought I'd pose as a gung-ho prospective student who, along with my chocolate honey bear, had managed to avoid every single newspaper and television and radio broadcast in the past six weeks. Craig, a senior in the humanities department, meets us at the admissions desk. He slings a blue blazer over his starched-cotton shoulder as we walk."You know, I'm surprised you haven't heard more about this place," Craig says without missing a beat, still sounding friendly, a little too friendly.