I got my vote right here, Pensacola Christian College.
Here is part of an article from the Chronicle of Higher Education. You can Google the title for the rest of it, but most of the religious stuff won't fly here so I edited to be TOS friendly.
So in summation, this is an unaccredited college loaded with snitches and whom will expel you if you so much as look at someone funny.
Anyone else wanna go to this college to see how long it would take to be expelled just by being yourself. I'd be gone within the hour.
Here is part of an article from the Chronicle of Higher Education. You can Google the title for the rest of it, but most of the religious stuff won't fly here so I edited to be TOS friendly.
A College That’s Strictly Different
Secretive Pensacola Christian controls student life with tough regulations and unwritten rules
By THOMAS BARTLETT
Pensacola, Fla.
The campus looks just like the glossy brochure: clean, green, and beautiful. The students are well dressed and well groomed, not a pair of jeans or scrappy goatee in sight. Inside the Commons building, two students engage in a spirited game of Ping-Pong. When one of them misses an easy shot, he cries, “Praise the Lord!”
Pensacola Christian College prides itself on being different, not just from secular colleges, but from fellow Christian ones, too. Some of those differences, like the way students dress, are obvious to any visitor. Others are not. Since its founding, more than 30 years ago, Pensacola has blossomed from a tiny Bible college into a thriving institution of nearly 5,000 students. Along the way it has become known as among the most conservative — and most secretive — colleges in the country.
Not to mention one of the strictest. The rules at Pensacola govern every aspect of students’ lives, including the books they read, the shoes they wear, the churches they attend, and the people they date. Many of those regulations are spelled out in a handbook sent to students after they enroll, but there are plenty of unwritten rules as well. Demerits are common and discipline swift.
It’s all in the name of preserving Pensacola’s “distinctives” — the word the college uses for what sets it apart. But many former students say the enforcement of the rules is often cruel and capricious. Dissent is never tolerated, they say, and expulsions for seemingly minor infractions are routine.
They also complain that Pensacola plays down (or never mentions) an important fact: It is not accredited. For many students, that lack of accreditation has not been a problem; for some, however, it has meant starting college over elsewhere or being rejected by employers.
In keeping with its distrust of outsiders, Pensacola’s administration declined repeatedly to comment for this article. A spokesman says college officials “don’t want to stir up a hornet’s nest.” But as interviews with dozens of current and former students make clear, the buzzing has already begun.
The Rule Book
Lisa Morris was walking to class with her boyfriend last October when something happened. At first Ms. Morris, a sophomore music major, is reluctant to divulge the details. Eventually, however, the truth comes out: He patted her behind.
Someone who witnessed the incident reported Ms. Morris and her boyfriend. At Pensacola any physical contact between members of the opposite sex is forbidden. (Members of the same sex may touch, although the college condemns homosexuality.) The forbidden contact includes shaking hands and definitely includes patting behinds. Both students were expelled.
Of Pensacola’s many rules, those dealing with male-female relationships are the most talked about. There are restrictions on when and where men and women may speak to each other. Some elevators and stairwells may be used only by women; others may be used only by men. Socializing on particular benches is forbidden. If a man and a woman are walking to class, they may chat; if they stop en route, though, they may be in trouble. Generally men and women caught interacting in any “unchaperoned area” — which is most of the campus — could be subject to severe penalties.
Those rules extend beyond the campus. A man and a woman cannot go to an off-campus restaurant together without a chaperon (usually a faculty member). Even running into members of the opposite sex off campus can lead to punishment. One student told of how a group of men and a group of women from the college happened to meet at a McDonald’s last spring. Both groups were returning from the beach (they had gone to separate beaches; men and women are not allowed to be at the beach together). The administration found out, and all 15 students were expelled.
Even couples who are not talking or touching can be reprimanded. Sabrina Poirier, a student at Pensacola who withdrew in 1997, was disciplined for what is known on the campus as “optical intercourse” — staring too intently into the eyes of a member of the opposite sex. This is also referred to as “making eye babies.” While the rule does not appear in written form, most students interviewed for this article were familiar with the concept.
As she tells it, Ms. Poirier was not gazing lovingly at her boyfriend; he had something in his eye. But officials didn’t buy her explanation, and she and her boyfriend were both “socialed,” she says.
There are three levels of official punishment at Pensacola (four, if you count expulsion). Students can be “socialed,” “campused,” or “shadowed.” Students who are socialed are not allowed to talk to members of the opposite sex for two weeks. Those who are campused may not leave the college grounds for two weeks or speak to other campused students.
Being shadowed is the worst of the three. Shadowed students are assigned to a “floor leader” for several days. A floor leader is a student who is paid by the college and has the power to issue demerits. Shadowed students must attend the floor leader’s classes and sleep in the floor leader’s room. During this time, the shadowed student is not allowed to talk to anyone but the floor leader.
Ms. Poirier was later told she would be shadowed after being spotted riding in a car in mixed company. She tried to explain that it was an innocent outing, but to no avail. When told she would be shadowed, Ms. Poirier decided to withdraw. “I said ’screw it’ and I left,” she says.
There are plenty of other ways to run afoul of the rules. Shadowing is usually a prelude to expulsion. Last spring Timothy Dow was caught playing the video game Halo 2. Such games are banned by the college. Movies are also forbidden, including those rated G. Music is restricted to classical or approved Christian (”contemporary Christian” artists are deemed too worldly). Students are allowed to watch television news at 6 o’clock, but that’s it. The TVs are controlled by college employees, who flip a switch to black out the commercials, lest students see anything inappropriate.
In the library, books and magazines are censored. One student says she saw a pair of black-marker boxer shorts on a photograph of Michelangelo’s David. Any books that students wish to read that are not in the library must first be approved by administrators. Those containing references to “magic,” for instance, are normally rejected. The rule book specifically prohibits “fleshly magazines and books.”
For playing the video game, Mr. Dow was campused. Later, in the cafeteria, he ran into a friend who had just been expelled. Mr. Dow had been told not to talk to his friend, who had previously been campused. But he figured it would be OK now that his friend was leaving. “I gave him a hug and said, ‘See you later, man,’” he says.
Someone witnessed the exchange and turned Mr. Dow in. Students routinely turn each other in for violating rules and are rewarded by the administration for doing so. According to several former students, those who report classmates are more likely to become floor leaders.
Mr. Dow was called to the office of the dean of men, where, he says, he waited for about four hours. Then he was expelled.
------
The campus also has several computer labs and wireless Internet access, although there is a catch. In the mid-1990s, Pensacola had e-mail and limited Internet access, but it shut the services down after several students started an online newsletter criticizing the college. (Needless to say, the students who created the newsletter were expelled.) Internet access was not restored until last year, and it comes with significant restrictions. T here are a few hundred approved Web sites; students must ask permission to visit any other site. Amazon and eBay, for instance, are reportedly not on the approved list. Several students say they leave the campus to surf the Web.
-------
But that is not the only reason for its growth. Along with the college, Mr. Horton founded A Beka Books, acknowledged as the largest Christian-textbook company in the world. A Beka sells textbooks to more than 10,000 Christian schools across the country, offering a complete curriculum for kindergarten through 12th grade. It has also won a big share of the lucrative home-school market.
The company brings in about $70-million in annual revenue and is valued at $280-million, according to Dun & Bradstreet. A sizable chunk of that revenue goes to support the college, which does not come close to breaking even on its own. According to its 2003 tax filing, the university collected $20-million in tuition and fees and $3-million from contributions. The filing attributes $15-million in income to “royalties,” presumably from A Beka.
In the mid-90s, A Beka paid nearly $50-million in back taxes after the Internal Revenue Service ruled that it should have been classified as a for-profit entity. The college itself remains nonprofit.
Revenue from A Beka helps keep costs extremely low. Students pay $6,000 a year for tuition, room, and board. That’s about a third or a quarter of what most other Christian colleges cost. When asked what other colleges they considered, Pensacola students often mention Bob Jones, Cedarville University, Northland Baptist Bible College, and Abilene Christian University. Cost is usually cited as the deciding factor.
Just as the textbook company helps support the college, the college helps support the textbook company. Many of Pensacola’s students work for A Beka, operating binding equipment, packing books into boxes, loading those boxes onto forklifts. Some students complain about the working conditions; others say it’s a good deal. For women, A Beka is usually the only employment option because they are not allowed to hold off-campus jobs. Or leave the campus alone, for that matter.
----------------------
Insurmountable Problems
Several previously unaccredited Christian colleges, like Bob Jones, have recently become candidates for accreditation. Pensacola, however, has shown no interest in outside approval of any kind. Nor does it advertise its unaccredited status. A search of the Web site turns up no mention of accreditation. It is not mentioned in the college’s viewbook either, which dedicates four pages to sports activities and two to campus facilities.
It is mentioned, in small print, on the inside flap of the course catalog: “Pensacola Christian College has never made application for regional accreditation as the College believes it would jeopardize the College’s philosophical distinctives.” The catalog goes on to say that getting other colleges to accept Pensacola’s credits “has seldom been an insurmountable problem.”
It was an insurmountable problem for Abel Harding. Near the end of his junior year, Mr. Harding placed a sign on his dorm-room door that said, “Welcome to the Party Room.” He glued cutouts from a magazine, including a beer bottle, to the poster. It was meant as a joke, he says, because the very idea that he would have beer in his room was laughable.
The administration didn’t see it that way. Mr. Harding was shadowed for three days.
That was one of several run-ins he had with the administration. All students join a “collegian,” Pensacola’s version of the Greek system. Mr. Harding’s collegian was nicknamed “the Scorpions” and one member got a tattoo of a scorpion to demonstrate his loyalty. Tattoos are not allowed, and the student was campused. In protest Mr. Harding and his fellow collegians wore all black to chapel one day. They were forced to leave the service and told they would be expelled if they wore black to chapel again.
The shadowing, however, was the tipping point. Even though the administration told Mr. Harding that he could return for his senior year, he decided to withdraw.
“I just couldn’t deal with it anymore,” he says.
He applied to the University of Florida and was told that none of his credits would transfer. “I had to start over,” he says. So, after three years at Pensacola, he enrolled as a freshman at nearby Santa Fe Community College and later transferred to Southern Illinois University at Carbondale, from which he eventually graduated.
He says he called Pensacola for help, and offi-cials there provided none: “There’s no label that says, ‘We’re not accredited.’ How many 18-year-olds know enough to ask that?”
When he was a student, Mr. Harding traveled with a singing group that promoted Pensacola. When prospective students asked about accreditation, Mr. Harding says the singers were instructed to tell them that Harvard and Yale are not accredited, either, and so accreditation doesn’t matter. (Harvard and Yale, for the record, are accredited.)
Lack of accreditation has been a problem for Amy Brown, too. She graduated from Pensacola in 2003 with a degree in early-childhood education. But because the college is not accredited, she cannot teach in public schools, she says. She had no idea what accreditation was before enrolling at Pensacola. “I never tried to transfer,” she writes in an e-mail message, “because I had friends that did and ended up with all of their credits as electives,” meaning that they had to retake required courses.
Mr. Ghobrial, the student from Egypt who doesn’t mind the rules, wants to attend dental school. His first choice, West Virginia University, has already said it would not consider his application, because Pensacola is not accredited. “I’m hoping they change their minds,” he says.
Many Christian colleges do accept Pensacola’s credits, as do some secular institutions. Several former students say they have had no difficulty transferring credits or applying for jobs. But others have. And as more states crack down on degrees from unaccredited colleges, it may get even tougher for Pensacola graduates.
Donald Barber asked about accreditation before he enrolled. The first time he asked, he says, a college representative evaded the question. Then the representative said it wasn’t important. “I had to ask three more times before he said no.”
Mr. Barber left the college in 2004 after “butting heads” with administrators over an event he was planning. He wanted to invite a speaker from Bob Jones to an off-campus Christian-revival meeting. Pensacola officials told him he could not. “I was appalled by that,” Mr. Barber says.
He did not object to the college’s many rules. But he did mind that Pensacola’s leaders would not tolerate dissent of any kind. “I felt like it stifled my personality,” he says.
Students interviewed for this article were asked whether they would recommend the college. Some, even a few who had strong criticisms of the college, said they would. Others said absolutely not. Matthew Arnold, whose sister enrolled in Pensacola against his advice, argues that it depends a lot on the student. “If God told them to go, then there’s not a lot you can do about it,” he says.
But, he adds, they should know what they’re getting into.
Secretive Pensacola Christian controls student life with tough regulations and unwritten rules
By THOMAS BARTLETT
Pensacola, Fla.
The campus looks just like the glossy brochure: clean, green, and beautiful. The students are well dressed and well groomed, not a pair of jeans or scrappy goatee in sight. Inside the Commons building, two students engage in a spirited game of Ping-Pong. When one of them misses an easy shot, he cries, “Praise the Lord!”
Pensacola Christian College prides itself on being different, not just from secular colleges, but from fellow Christian ones, too. Some of those differences, like the way students dress, are obvious to any visitor. Others are not. Since its founding, more than 30 years ago, Pensacola has blossomed from a tiny Bible college into a thriving institution of nearly 5,000 students. Along the way it has become known as among the most conservative — and most secretive — colleges in the country.
Not to mention one of the strictest. The rules at Pensacola govern every aspect of students’ lives, including the books they read, the shoes they wear, the churches they attend, and the people they date. Many of those regulations are spelled out in a handbook sent to students after they enroll, but there are plenty of unwritten rules as well. Demerits are common and discipline swift.
It’s all in the name of preserving Pensacola’s “distinctives” — the word the college uses for what sets it apart. But many former students say the enforcement of the rules is often cruel and capricious. Dissent is never tolerated, they say, and expulsions for seemingly minor infractions are routine.
They also complain that Pensacola plays down (or never mentions) an important fact: It is not accredited. For many students, that lack of accreditation has not been a problem; for some, however, it has meant starting college over elsewhere or being rejected by employers.
In keeping with its distrust of outsiders, Pensacola’s administration declined repeatedly to comment for this article. A spokesman says college officials “don’t want to stir up a hornet’s nest.” But as interviews with dozens of current and former students make clear, the buzzing has already begun.
The Rule Book
Lisa Morris was walking to class with her boyfriend last October when something happened. At first Ms. Morris, a sophomore music major, is reluctant to divulge the details. Eventually, however, the truth comes out: He patted her behind.
Someone who witnessed the incident reported Ms. Morris and her boyfriend. At Pensacola any physical contact between members of the opposite sex is forbidden. (Members of the same sex may touch, although the college condemns homosexuality.) The forbidden contact includes shaking hands and definitely includes patting behinds. Both students were expelled.
Of Pensacola’s many rules, those dealing with male-female relationships are the most talked about. There are restrictions on when and where men and women may speak to each other. Some elevators and stairwells may be used only by women; others may be used only by men. Socializing on particular benches is forbidden. If a man and a woman are walking to class, they may chat; if they stop en route, though, they may be in trouble. Generally men and women caught interacting in any “unchaperoned area” — which is most of the campus — could be subject to severe penalties.
Those rules extend beyond the campus. A man and a woman cannot go to an off-campus restaurant together without a chaperon (usually a faculty member). Even running into members of the opposite sex off campus can lead to punishment. One student told of how a group of men and a group of women from the college happened to meet at a McDonald’s last spring. Both groups were returning from the beach (they had gone to separate beaches; men and women are not allowed to be at the beach together). The administration found out, and all 15 students were expelled.
Even couples who are not talking or touching can be reprimanded. Sabrina Poirier, a student at Pensacola who withdrew in 1997, was disciplined for what is known on the campus as “optical intercourse” — staring too intently into the eyes of a member of the opposite sex. This is also referred to as “making eye babies.” While the rule does not appear in written form, most students interviewed for this article were familiar with the concept.
As she tells it, Ms. Poirier was not gazing lovingly at her boyfriend; he had something in his eye. But officials didn’t buy her explanation, and she and her boyfriend were both “socialed,” she says.
There are three levels of official punishment at Pensacola (four, if you count expulsion). Students can be “socialed,” “campused,” or “shadowed.” Students who are socialed are not allowed to talk to members of the opposite sex for two weeks. Those who are campused may not leave the college grounds for two weeks or speak to other campused students.
Being shadowed is the worst of the three. Shadowed students are assigned to a “floor leader” for several days. A floor leader is a student who is paid by the college and has the power to issue demerits. Shadowed students must attend the floor leader’s classes and sleep in the floor leader’s room. During this time, the shadowed student is not allowed to talk to anyone but the floor leader.
Ms. Poirier was later told she would be shadowed after being spotted riding in a car in mixed company. She tried to explain that it was an innocent outing, but to no avail. When told she would be shadowed, Ms. Poirier decided to withdraw. “I said ’screw it’ and I left,” she says.
There are plenty of other ways to run afoul of the rules. Shadowing is usually a prelude to expulsion. Last spring Timothy Dow was caught playing the video game Halo 2. Such games are banned by the college. Movies are also forbidden, including those rated G. Music is restricted to classical or approved Christian (”contemporary Christian” artists are deemed too worldly). Students are allowed to watch television news at 6 o’clock, but that’s it. The TVs are controlled by college employees, who flip a switch to black out the commercials, lest students see anything inappropriate.
In the library, books and magazines are censored. One student says she saw a pair of black-marker boxer shorts on a photograph of Michelangelo’s David. Any books that students wish to read that are not in the library must first be approved by administrators. Those containing references to “magic,” for instance, are normally rejected. The rule book specifically prohibits “fleshly magazines and books.”
For playing the video game, Mr. Dow was campused. Later, in the cafeteria, he ran into a friend who had just been expelled. Mr. Dow had been told not to talk to his friend, who had previously been campused. But he figured it would be OK now that his friend was leaving. “I gave him a hug and said, ‘See you later, man,’” he says.
Someone witnessed the exchange and turned Mr. Dow in. Students routinely turn each other in for violating rules and are rewarded by the administration for doing so. According to several former students, those who report classmates are more likely to become floor leaders.
Mr. Dow was called to the office of the dean of men, where, he says, he waited for about four hours. Then he was expelled.
------
The campus also has several computer labs and wireless Internet access, although there is a catch. In the mid-1990s, Pensacola had e-mail and limited Internet access, but it shut the services down after several students started an online newsletter criticizing the college. (Needless to say, the students who created the newsletter were expelled.) Internet access was not restored until last year, and it comes with significant restrictions. T here are a few hundred approved Web sites; students must ask permission to visit any other site. Amazon and eBay, for instance, are reportedly not on the approved list. Several students say they leave the campus to surf the Web.
-------
But that is not the only reason for its growth. Along with the college, Mr. Horton founded A Beka Books, acknowledged as the largest Christian-textbook company in the world. A Beka sells textbooks to more than 10,000 Christian schools across the country, offering a complete curriculum for kindergarten through 12th grade. It has also won a big share of the lucrative home-school market.
The company brings in about $70-million in annual revenue and is valued at $280-million, according to Dun & Bradstreet. A sizable chunk of that revenue goes to support the college, which does not come close to breaking even on its own. According to its 2003 tax filing, the university collected $20-million in tuition and fees and $3-million from contributions. The filing attributes $15-million in income to “royalties,” presumably from A Beka.
In the mid-90s, A Beka paid nearly $50-million in back taxes after the Internal Revenue Service ruled that it should have been classified as a for-profit entity. The college itself remains nonprofit.
Revenue from A Beka helps keep costs extremely low. Students pay $6,000 a year for tuition, room, and board. That’s about a third or a quarter of what most other Christian colleges cost. When asked what other colleges they considered, Pensacola students often mention Bob Jones, Cedarville University, Northland Baptist Bible College, and Abilene Christian University. Cost is usually cited as the deciding factor.
Just as the textbook company helps support the college, the college helps support the textbook company. Many of Pensacola’s students work for A Beka, operating binding equipment, packing books into boxes, loading those boxes onto forklifts. Some students complain about the working conditions; others say it’s a good deal. For women, A Beka is usually the only employment option because they are not allowed to hold off-campus jobs. Or leave the campus alone, for that matter.
----------------------
Insurmountable Problems
Several previously unaccredited Christian colleges, like Bob Jones, have recently become candidates for accreditation. Pensacola, however, has shown no interest in outside approval of any kind. Nor does it advertise its unaccredited status. A search of the Web site turns up no mention of accreditation. It is not mentioned in the college’s viewbook either, which dedicates four pages to sports activities and two to campus facilities.
It is mentioned, in small print, on the inside flap of the course catalog: “Pensacola Christian College has never made application for regional accreditation as the College believes it would jeopardize the College’s philosophical distinctives.” The catalog goes on to say that getting other colleges to accept Pensacola’s credits “has seldom been an insurmountable problem.”
It was an insurmountable problem for Abel Harding. Near the end of his junior year, Mr. Harding placed a sign on his dorm-room door that said, “Welcome to the Party Room.” He glued cutouts from a magazine, including a beer bottle, to the poster. It was meant as a joke, he says, because the very idea that he would have beer in his room was laughable.
The administration didn’t see it that way. Mr. Harding was shadowed for three days.
That was one of several run-ins he had with the administration. All students join a “collegian,” Pensacola’s version of the Greek system. Mr. Harding’s collegian was nicknamed “the Scorpions” and one member got a tattoo of a scorpion to demonstrate his loyalty. Tattoos are not allowed, and the student was campused. In protest Mr. Harding and his fellow collegians wore all black to chapel one day. They were forced to leave the service and told they would be expelled if they wore black to chapel again.
The shadowing, however, was the tipping point. Even though the administration told Mr. Harding that he could return for his senior year, he decided to withdraw.
“I just couldn’t deal with it anymore,” he says.
He applied to the University of Florida and was told that none of his credits would transfer. “I had to start over,” he says. So, after three years at Pensacola, he enrolled as a freshman at nearby Santa Fe Community College and later transferred to Southern Illinois University at Carbondale, from which he eventually graduated.
He says he called Pensacola for help, and offi-cials there provided none: “There’s no label that says, ‘We’re not accredited.’ How many 18-year-olds know enough to ask that?”
When he was a student, Mr. Harding traveled with a singing group that promoted Pensacola. When prospective students asked about accreditation, Mr. Harding says the singers were instructed to tell them that Harvard and Yale are not accredited, either, and so accreditation doesn’t matter. (Harvard and Yale, for the record, are accredited.)
Lack of accreditation has been a problem for Amy Brown, too. She graduated from Pensacola in 2003 with a degree in early-childhood education. But because the college is not accredited, she cannot teach in public schools, she says. She had no idea what accreditation was before enrolling at Pensacola. “I never tried to transfer,” she writes in an e-mail message, “because I had friends that did and ended up with all of their credits as electives,” meaning that they had to retake required courses.
Mr. Ghobrial, the student from Egypt who doesn’t mind the rules, wants to attend dental school. His first choice, West Virginia University, has already said it would not consider his application, because Pensacola is not accredited. “I’m hoping they change their minds,” he says.
Many Christian colleges do accept Pensacola’s credits, as do some secular institutions. Several former students say they have had no difficulty transferring credits or applying for jobs. But others have. And as more states crack down on degrees from unaccredited colleges, it may get even tougher for Pensacola graduates.
Donald Barber asked about accreditation before he enrolled. The first time he asked, he says, a college representative evaded the question. Then the representative said it wasn’t important. “I had to ask three more times before he said no.”
Mr. Barber left the college in 2004 after “butting heads” with administrators over an event he was planning. He wanted to invite a speaker from Bob Jones to an off-campus Christian-revival meeting. Pensacola officials told him he could not. “I was appalled by that,” Mr. Barber says.
He did not object to the college’s many rules. But he did mind that Pensacola’s leaders would not tolerate dissent of any kind. “I felt like it stifled my personality,” he says.
Students interviewed for this article were asked whether they would recommend the college. Some, even a few who had strong criticisms of the college, said they would. Others said absolutely not. Matthew Arnold, whose sister enrolled in Pensacola against his advice, argues that it depends a lot on the student. “If God told them to go, then there’s not a lot you can do about it,” he says.
But, he adds, they should know what they’re getting into.
Anyone else wanna go to this college to see how long it would take to be expelled just by being yourself. I'd be gone within the hour.
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