Bashfully modest though she is, Miss Manners cannot help being aware that her appearance creates suspicion among those charged with spotting the criminal element.

Would an honest person wear gloves when it's not cold? Would a patriotic citizen move through airport crowds neither shoving ahead nor declaring "I'm in a hurry!" to those who presumably flock there only for the amenities?

Miss Manners is therefore personally familiar with the airport security search. In what could become a dangerous precedent, she is beginning to associate the adventure of travel with removing items of clothing in public.

But if it no longer seems odd to hand over her shoes to strangers, a habit she tries to keep in check when riding the subway, Miss Manners cannot accustom herself to impoliteness. The least people can do when they want to handle one's person is to ask nicely.

And so they do -- at least in her experience, and at least so far -- under the new federalized system. She awaits any less sanguine reports from others before conceding that the politeness she encountered might have been unintentional.

As it happened, when the changing of the guards was occurring, Miss Manners was gadding about more than usual (and more than what is sensible). She noticed that behavior had also changed. Although she had occasionally encountered politeness in those performing the security-check job before, they seemed to be acting out of personal, rather than professional, courtesy.

To command attention and move people along, the new security squad has learned substitute phrases for "You! Over here!" These include "Good morning, ma'am, could you step this way, please?" and "Sir, there's a shorter line over there."

She noticed that when they asked the rhetorical question, "May I search your bag?" they went through the ceremony of appearing to wait for an answer. Searches were conducted with as much dignity as the situation permitted.

"Please" accompanied the instructions, making them sound more like directions than orders. Accommodations were made to enable those being searched to monitor the progression of their belongings through scanning machines and further searches.

Most surprising to Miss Manners was the soothing patter accompanying the process by which one is revealed to be a treasure-trove of hidden metals. "It's probably the backing on your buttons," was the innocent explanation offered by the guard who administered the search. "I'm only going to touch you with the back of my hand, and I'll tell you each time before I do so." She was as good as her word, and said "Thank you" when she had to let Miss Manners go for lack of incriminating evidence. (It was the buttons.)

This is a higher standard than is maintained by another profession that handles people for what they profess is their own good. Medical manners require the same perfunctory requests for permission and running explanations, but this is not widely known because it is so rarely practiced.

For that matter, all those who deal with the public, even if legally required to keep their hands to themselves, need to learn that polite patter and soothing tone. Not only does it make a cumbersome necessity less unpleasant, but it speeds things up. It takes less time to be polite than to subdue someone who is rapidly moving from irate to irrational.

If the government has mastered the skill of teaching this to some of its employees, it should teach it to them all, and make the techniques available to the business world.

Then it could turn its attention to teaching its employees to repack luggage without making such a mess.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My mother is a widow of five years and is just now starting to date again. I'm naturally very happy for her. In our weekly phone conversations, she goes on at length about her wonderful (and sometimes humorous) dates.

The fact that I am gay was a bitter pill for my mother to take, and to this day she very strictly does not want to talk with me about that aspect of my life. It is hurtful for me to hear my mother talk about her dating life so enthusiastically, when I am not able to talk about my dating life with her. Is there any way to approach this topic without hurting my mother's feelings? GENTLE READER: Miss Manners recommends showing too much interest in your mother's dates, asking her how late she's staying out, whether she kisses on the first date, and so on.

When she gets fed up, you can then say, "Oh, I thought you wanted me to be the parent now -- the one whose own love life is not open to discussion, but who's allowed to interfere in yours."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am a female student, and most of my friends happen to be male classmates. Occasionally, when I go out for dinner with one of them, the waiter will apparently assume that we're dating and chide my friend for letting me pay my share as we're dividing up the bill.

We normally just turn a little bit red and ignore it, but is there any better way to handle it? These waiters never say specifically that they think we're dating, so we can't refute that -- and, frankly, I generally pay my own way when I'm out with my boyfriend anyway.

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners is surprised to hear that those waiters are still active. They got such a workout in the 1970s, thwarting businesswomen by chastising their clients and employees for not treating them to lunch, that she would have thought them driven into retirement by exhaustion.

Even though your response was prompted by embarrassment, ignoring this intrusiveness was the right thing to do.

You probably wouldn't tolerate questions and suggestions about your personal relationships and spending habits from your parents, so why should you attempt to justify yourself to your waiter?

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A class of 30 high school students is being instructed by a teacher in the school library where I work. The room is quite large so it is possible for others to be in the library at the same time as a class. Two other teachers were loudly socializing in the front of the library, and were joking and laughing so loudly that the teacher across the room had to shout to have his students hear him.

While I used all the body language I could to try to get a message across to the loud teachers, who were oblivious, I was at a loss as to what to say. If it were students, this would not be a problem, but with other teachers, I could hardly say "Be quiet! Can't you see a class is in session?"

Is there a polite, nonconfrontational way to tell people who should know better how to be quiet in a library or other place where loud talking of adults interferes with the rights of young students (who would never be allowed to behave this way)?

This problem occurs in many other situations where children and adults share the same space and children are expected to behave in a certain fashion, but adults ignore the rules. Many teachers just get stressed for lack of an appropriate thing to say.

GENTLE READER: Is it possible that with so many libraries turning into classrooms and activity centers, library science no longer includes rigorous training in the gentle art of shushing?

Now, more than ever, the ability to quiet people down without riling them up is a skill that everyone needs. The sticking point, Miss Manners observes, is just the one you identify -- a reluctance to correct adults, perhaps because it is rude, and perhaps because they might be bigger or more menacing than oneself.

What you could have done was alert them to a situation you know they must have overlooked -- the presence of the class, the way their voices carried -- because, being polite people, they would never have been disruptive on purpose.

This is done by flashing them a regretful and sympathetic little smile, while tilting your head toward the class and humorously laying your finger across your lips. If this fails to shut them up, to put it as bluntly as one should not, you should say, "I'm sorry, but would you please talk elsewhere?"

And by the way, authority over children should not be invoked to treat them any less politely.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have attended several courses and workshops, some costly and all scheduled for a limited time period, and I am made uncomfortable right from the start.

The first thing the course conductor does is to order the participants, one by one, to identify themselves and divulge personal information to the roomful of (mostly) strangers. I don't want my privacy invaded and my safety compromised; I want the conductor to get right to the course material!

Nothing is stopping the course attendees from getting to know each other on their own if they have the inclination. I believe this time-wasting and nosy practice should be eliminated.

GENTLE READER: This is one of those leftovers from the popular therapy craze of the second half of the 20th century, when it was believed that people accomplish more when they become pals. It is in direct contradiction to what every schoolteacher knows about separating friends during class.

Miss Manners would have thought that the custom had been dropped by now. Surely we have all sat captive through enough long professional and personal resumes, in both the bragging and the whining modes, to know better.

When your turn comes, you can at least not add to the tedium. You need only state your name, your profession if it happens to be related to the subject matter of the course, and your level of ability in regard to the class. Having been regaled by others, your classmates are not likely to beg for more, but if they do, you should reply modestly that this is all that is relevant.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Last month, my husband and I invited a former colleague of mine over for a casual dinner. After an enjoyable meal, my colleague's husband announced that he had to make an 8 p.m. conference call.

I offered to let him use our den for privacy and he emerged 145 minutes later to announce that he had just helped found a new (rather radical) political party in our state. We congratulated him on his accomplishment and enjoyed a heated political debate before he went home.

I opened our phone bill last night, shocked to see a rather large cross-country phone call made the evening of his visit. I had assumed that he used a toll-free number or at least his own calling card and am surprised that he did not mention that he made a direct-dial call. Should I confront him with the bill or consider it water under the bridge?

GENTLE READER: How deep is the water under that bridge? Miss Manners would have been tempted to pitch your guest overboard for the crime of doing business at your house during a social engagement.

But then she supposes she would have tossed him a lifeline, for humanitarian reasons and also so he could live to pay the telephone bill. Send it to him with a note saying that he probably needs this as a record for his expense account or taxes when he reimburses you.

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