For a(nother) white pope. So much for my prognostication.

Two hundred and thirty years ago, the first American revolution started, when British troops attempted to enforce gun-control laws in Massachussetts. This incident was doubtless fresh in the memories of the Founders when they wrote the Second Amendment.

The baby boom echo kids (born between 1982-1995) are almost out of high school on average. It will be another 5 years of reduced enrollments until the baby boom echo echo kids start showing up in the schools. This will have implications for optimal school policy. Underlying this is a richer, better prepared, better nourished, healthier population that is increasingly going to college after high school. The high schools will increasingly adopt the trappings of junior and four-year colleges in order to adapt to the academic and funding environment.

With the schools having a temporarily sufficient capacity, there is a strong incentive for school to heavily recruit students for transfers under the No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB). The facilities costs are largely fixed. The money brought in by additional students would be marginal profit for the school system. That money could be used to provide enrichment activities for the existing student body and hold the line on general cuts in services as enrollment subsides.

NCLB encourages high schools to take a step in the direction of becoming like universities by having admissions requirements. College admissions are brutally competitive. High schools develop brands that influence college admissions officers much as the college brands influence employers. A high school needs to have high scores, achievement and diversity from its student body for the school brand to positively influence a college admission decision. It follows that a high school admission requirement be put in place to increase the academic and cultural luster of the high school.

High schools also face a budget squeeze. Money from state and federal sources is often keyed to the number of students. As the number of students fall, budgets come under pressure. Many jurisdictions have property tax caps that prevent further tax increases. School financing has a difficult battle at the ballot box as empty nesters and newlyweds grow in the demographics compared to parents of school age children. Financing pressure leads schools to turn to parents and community to establish and fund foundations and build alumni associations to assist with high school excellence. As contributions go to the foundations and the schools, the money can be used to further improve the brand and upgrade the teaching quality, supplies and equipment.

The curriculum must also evolve to become more relevant to the knowledge age. Vocational tracks should encourage students to become software developers and enter other high wage careers. As computers and the internet have nullified or inverted age stereotypes in many industries, we have already seen high school students driving new SUVs with money they earned from software development. This may be a critical national resource to tap as overseas competition forces older workers even higher up the value chain.

It will no longer be enough to simply offer AP courses. High schools will need to start considering hiring ever more qualified and illustrious professionals to teach their college courses. If many students are taking AP courses, the school must compete with the junior colleges, community colleges and four year universities for staff. With those staff will come research opportunities for students that rival those at highly rated universities. Those will be necessary to match the bios of the Intel Science Talent Search winners. As hundreds of schools aspire to be the next Bronx Science, Bronx Science is aspiring to be the next Caltech and already boasts six Nobel Prize winning alumni. High school researchers from the baby boom echo echo may well be the source of the next shot heard round the world.

It’s the hundred and fortieth anniversary of day that Abraham Lincoln was shot.

Well, actually I hope not, but northern Alabama does seem to be looking down the barrel of what’s going on in Mississipi tonight.

Colorado is actually ticketing people who hog the left lane. More of this, please.

That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.

It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.

He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”

Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”

So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.

The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.

He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”

The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”

“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”

That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.

It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.

He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”

Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”

So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.

The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.

He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”

The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”

“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”

That’s what Ann Althouse says, and I would agree. We shouldn’t be mourning his passing, which was as he wanted it–we should be celebrating his life. And as at a wake, (though it’s not, as far as I know, actually true) I have to tell a story about him that Tom Rogers, former president of the Space Transportation Association, used to tell.

It seems that often, the pontiff, weary with the cares of the world, would have trouble getting to sleep. On these occasions, one of the best cures for his insomnia was to take a ride around the beautiful city in which he lived, in the back seat of his limousine. On one of these occasions, he realizes that he’s been missing something from his life for many years.

He taps on the window to his driver, and says, “Mario, I haven’t driven a car since I was a priest in Cracow. It would give me so much pleasure if I could do it once again.”

Mario, of course, is aghast. “Your Holiness, it would be unseemly! You are the Pope!” To which the reply was, “That’s right, Mario, I am the Pope. You are the employee of the Pope. I shall drive.”

So they switch places, Mario with reluctance and the Pope with glee, and they head off for the driving tour of his life, past the Tivoli Fountains and the Coliseum, up and down the hills. Fortunately, it’s late at night, so traffic is light, and like most Romans, he pays little attention to traffic signals or speed limits. Inevitably, the sound of a siren greets their ears from behind, and so the Pope reluctantly pulls over, fearing the headlines the next day.

The patrolman gets off his scooter, walks up to the limo, taps on the smoked-glass driver’s window, and his face turns sheet white when it rolls down to reveal who is behind the wheel. He stammers, “A thousand pardons, your Holiness. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. But can you please wait for just one minute while I contact my superiors”? And the pope nods beatifically.

He goes back to his scooter, radios the station, and says, “Capitano, I need some advice. I’m about to give a traffic ticket to a very, very important person.”

The radio crackles back, “What’s the problem, Luigi? Who is it? How important are we talking here?”

“I don’t know, Capitano, but whoever it is, has got the Pope for a chauffeur…”

Well, I was a little premature yesterday, but it seems to be official now. The College of the Cardinals will be selecting a new pope in a couple weeks. I wonder if there will be white smoke for a black pope? More on that later…