WHEN TARA Williams nailed the pages of her protest on the door of Southern High School, she planted her feet in a modern version of "Here I Stand."

OK, she probably used Scotch tape, and the document was actually the unauthorized March issue of the student newspaper, The Bulldog, which she refused to remove from her classroom door even at Principal Thomas Stevens' request. Mr. Stevens subsequently terminated her contract for next year (Tara, gone with the wind?), even though by all accounts she has been an effective teacher and role model.

(Thought for the Day: The difference between "principle" and "principal" is that one of them is your pal. It's just not always clear which one.)

The Southern High School issue raises the usual questions about censorship and free speech. It also prompts us to consider what we are teaching our children about the nature of a civil society.

In the 1840s, with the nation torn by strife over slavery and by the "manifest destiny" driving the United States into war against Mexico, Henry David Thoreau penned his essay "Civil Disobedience." "It is not desirable to cultivate a respect for the law, so much as for the right," he wrote.

Today, schools find it desirable to cultivate a respect for authority. They teach the three C's: conflict resolution, character education (whatever that is) and civility. In fact, schools across the country have devoted time and money -- lots of money -- to reinstating civility in our nation's youth, efforts that seem hell-bent on compelling these youth to pull up their pants, cover their midriffs and do what they are told.

A worthy effort, surely.

But just as using the unsplit infinitive once separated the aristocracy from the lower classes in England, our current emphasis on civil discourse, politeness and harmony is often more about maintaining social control than about teaching what it means to live in a civil society -- one that nurtures generosity, self-sacrifice, integrity, tolerance, equality and justice. They are values worth shouting about, even rudely.

In Baltimore, civility has trumped dissent, and, were he living, Thoreau would be an unlikely candidate for graduation speaker at Southern High School this year.

But Southern is not alone in its lessons on civic life.

Consider the recent incident at North Baltimore's Bryn Mawr School, where administrators pressured the Johns Hopkins University Press not to publish a history of the school that they considered unflattering. Students at Bryn Mawr are surely taught the value of free speech in a democracy, but they may have learned that sometimes self-interest is more important than the open exchange of ideas.

And what about Loyola College's plans to carve an athletic complex out of a rare piece of urban greenery?

Despite a well-organized grassroots effort to prevent increased traffic, pollution and environmental degradation, the City Council voted recently in favor of the college. Students at Loyola are surely taught that we are all equal in a democracy, but they may have learned that those with power are more equal than those without it.

So, let's review:

It is easier in the name of civility to outlaw the raised third finger or the pierced navel than to teach integrity and civic courage.

It is easier in the name of harmony to suppress criticism than to tolerate dissent.

It is easier in the name of progress to promote the interests of institutions over those of individuals.

Now, for homework, answer the following question: How can we have a civil society without citizens like Tara Williams who are willing to stand on principles and without teaching our children to value what is right over what is proscribed? Skip lines, please.

Marilyn Julius is an associate professor of English at Villa Julie College and lives in Baltimore.