The Bell Curve:

So now we take a brief detour from health care to education — and to why Newport-Mesa is one of what news stories call “the handful of schools across the country” that did not show President Obama’s Tuesday afternoon speech in their classrooms when it was happening.

I’ll accept Supt. Jeffrey Hubbard’s explanation for this failure because I have no reason to doubt his word. But I would attach some reservations.

Chief among them is to wonder if our school district is so rigid that it can’t, on short notice, provide a channel of communication between its students and the president speaking directly to them.

And was the failure to provide this channel when it was taking place explained to the students, at least some of whom must have been aware they were being bypassed?

I can’t think of a better opportunity to define for them the dual role of our president as an accountable individual directing the machinery of our government and as the temporary holder of an office that demands respect. God knows, we had to learn that lesson when George Bush held that office.

And, finally, even subliminally, did the run-of-the-mill venom being directed at Obama these days make this decision easier?

Comments like the head of the Republican party in Florida saying, “As the father of four children, I am absolutely appalled that taxpayer dollars are being used to spread President Obama’s socialist ideology”?

This for a 20-minute motivational speech totally devoid of politics and strong on using Obama’s own experience in urging young people to use their mistakes and challenges as a pathway to growth. If this was a subversive enlistment call to projected socialists, it was buried even beneath the shovels of his right-wing critics. This will be remembered — simply, if at all — as a momentary leveling off of the bumpy ride of health-care debate.

But to me, it brought up a very vivid memory of history repeating itself. It wasn’t the first time that a presidential candidate was hit with a charge of brainwashing students, and I was there to watch the earlier case evolve. The year was 1954, in between Adlai Stevenson’s two runs for the presidency against Gen. Dwight Eisenhower.

Stevenson then lived in a Chicago suburb called Libertyville, in what ironically was regarded as one of the most Republican counties in the U.S. So Republican, indeed, that the City Council had rejected a sign at city’s edge identifying it as the home of Adlai Stevenson.

As the 1954 school year approached, Libertyville was preparing to celebrate the completion of a new wing of the high school that Stevenson’s three sons had attended.

A speaker was needed for the event, and the obvious choice was Stevenson, former governor of Illinois and candidate for the highest office in the land. But the School Board majority didn’t see it that way. Supported by the City Council, they passed over Stevenson and were about to invite a little-known congresswoman who also lived in Libertyville.

But there was an elephant in the room — a newly elected member who was also a Democrat. He convinced his fellow members that they would look silly for ignoring Stevenson and that he wouldn’t be able to work it into his schedule anyway.

So the board, the Democrat concluded, should offer Stevenson a courtesy invitation which would be turned down and the congresswoman invited. And so it was done. But when the Democrat told this story to Stevenson, he was greatly amused and accepted the invitation.

When that was made public, it turned on streams of vituperation very similar to those being directed at Obama today. Stevenson, it was loudly charged, would bring politics into the school dedication and get both the school and its students off to a bad start.

There was even a growing movement of parents and students to boycott the event altogether. Stevenson’s response was to invite the entire school board to a tea at his home just prior to the dedication event. And I was there as a visiting journalist, invited by the Democratic member and approved by Stevenson,

For two hours, I watched him turn an awkward situation into a gracious one. Then, I went to the dedication with Stevenson’s sons, walking into a tense and silent gathering of students and their parents.

When Stevenson was introduced, the crowd was silent as he walked to the platform. Then he went to work. For 45 minutes, he talked without notes about education. Nary a political word.

Like Obama on Tuesday, Stevenson was warm and funny, and personal and persuasive. He made education sound like a glorious opportunity. And when he finished, there was a standing ovation.

Stevenson didn’t win the election that followed. But he won the respect and admiration of his fellow townspeople. And maybe a few of their votes. But that isn’t what he was after that day. Nor was Obama on Tuesday.

JOSEPH N. BELL lives in Newport Beach. His column runs Thursdays.