Marijuana school: Prescription for a higher education
February 24, 2010
Mitch Potter
WASHINGTON BUREAU
SOUTHFIELD, MICH.– Budding opportunity is the lesson at marijuana school, where everyone, it seems, wants to be the teacher's pet.
In a scene almost unimaginable during the George W. Bush era, a standing-room-only class of 42 people is taking down the professor's every word at an inconspicuous industrial plaza on the outskirts of job-depleted Detroit.
Some are laid-off autoworkers, others straight out of high school. But the goal is the same: to graduate with a green thumb to quietly grow and distribute medical marijuana – and the legal smarts to avoid getting caught by Michigan's finest.
In a few more weeks, they'll be ready to plant their lives anew, just like the 250 already in business after attending Med Grow Cannabis College since its launch last November.
In theory, this medicine is strictly for the sickly – sufferers of cancer, glaucoma and other debilitating conditions.
But tonight's lecturer, Detroit attorney Matthew Abel, offers a nudge and a wink as he explains to the class what one local cop told him last week: "Anybody who smokes pot and doesn't have a medical marijuana card at this point is just an idiot."
Abel continues: "The law may have been sold as intended for dying people. But it applies to a lot of other people as well. If you have some kind of severe or chronic pain, you very well may qualify. That's what you all wanted to hear, right?"
Much laughter ensues. And later the lesson becomes more hands-on, as Abel hands over to the school's horticulturalist, who opens double-doors to reveal an indoor garden.
The Med Grow facility, along with California's Oaksterdam University, are among the first in a new wave of how-to schools popping up in states that have enacted medical marijuana legislation in recent years.
But attendance in Michigan is especially strong, according to Nick Tennant, the 24-year-old Detroit entrepreneur who abandoned his failing auto detailing business to found the school last year.
"Attitudes about marijuana are changing all over the country – but I think they're changing more rapidly here in Michigan because of our depressed economic conditions," Tennant told the Star.
"Do I think the medical marijuana industry is going to stimulate Detroit back to vibrancy? Of course not. ... We have 17 per cent unemployment.
"But medical marijuana has the potential to become probably a billion-dollar industry in Michigan. The state authorities are bursting at the seams trying to process a backlog of about 15,000 patient and caregiver cards. It pales against (the auto sector) but it is not small – and some people are creating a viable opportunity for themselves as growers."
Michigan is one of 14 states with medical marijuana laws on the books and others, including New Jersey and the District of Columbia, are readying to write statutes of their own. Although marijuana remains a federal Schedule 1 controlled substance, the Obama administration's apparent reluctance to enforce Washington's will on the states has emboldened marijuana activists and led to the formation of schools.
The state laws vary and in Michigan's case, the 2008 medical marijuana act allows registered caregivers to care for as many as five registered patients – at a rate of 12 plants and 70 grams (2.5 ounces) of usable marijuana per patient.
But with much of that law still to be tested, confusion abounds. Police in some cases continue to seize marijuana from registered caregivers and patients and some Michigan towns and counties are initiating their own bylaws aimed at limiting grow-ops in private homes.
Abel, during a lecture monitored by the Star, warned his class that "good karma" matters. He cited the example of a caregiver he knows in Colorado, where the state law sets no limits on the number of patients growers can provide for.
"He has 1,000 patients. He has a warehouse. And the feds are not bothering him. But he is paying his taxes, he's paying his employees, he's complying with the zoning ordinances and he's being nice to everybody," said Abel. "He's not playing 'f- - - the government' and making videos and bragging about making money and driving his Ferrari. Those guys are in prison."
Abel's students prove to be quick studies – Lesson One included the cardinal rule, "tell nobody," and consequently none were willing to share their names with a Canadian reporter. One who spoke on condition of anonymity said he was a former General Motors assembly line worker who lost a close family member to cancer last year.
"I do want to make a living from this. But just a living, not a fortune. I can see the danger of getting carried away but I'll be playing by the rules. Nothing I grow will end up on the street corners," he said.
"I just want to be a good gardener, help a small number of people who are suffering and end up with enough at the end of each month just to cover the bills."
Toronto Star
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