What did you learn in school today, dear little boy of mine? (Rebel Girl)

Magic Tricks or How On his 9th birthday, in his Public School Classroom, Rebel Girl's Son is Told He is Going to Hell by his Substitute Teacher 

     Thursday was the little guy’s ninth birthday and despite her packed schedule, Rebel Girl made time to drive home for an intimate celebratory dinner before heading back to the college. 

     They had celebrated big earlier: a Saturday party of seven nine-year-olds and twin 12-year-old party crashers; a birthday morning breakfast of homemade pancakes and presents including a year’s subscription to Mad magazine. Good times. 

     The Little Guy spent the day at his school, the little school where Red Emma volunteers every other week to read in class. Rebel Girl imagined that the Little Guy’s class would have sung to him the special birthday song they sing at such times. She asked him while driving home. 

     No, he said. His regular teacher, much beloved, was absent. In her place was the much-admired occasional substitute, let’s call him Mr. Sub. He didn’t know about birthdays. 

     “But he did do a magic trick,” said the Little Guy. 

     The Little Guy is a big fan of magic. Last year the family celebrated his birthday at the world famous Magic Castle. 

     “That must have been fun,” replied Rebel Girl. “What kind of magic?” 

     The Little Guy, a fine storyteller, proceeded to tell a doozie involving Jesus and his devoted apostle Paul who traveled the world after Jesus’ death talking about Jesus to the unbelievers who often persecuted him. One time Paul was imprisoned and challenged by the guards to construct a cross from a single piece of paper. The guards gave him no scissors (it was, after all, a few years A.D.) and a stack of paper. 

     Where do prison guards at that time acquire paper anyway, Rebel Girl wondered. Office Depot? Kinko's? But no matter. After all, verisimilitude is not the goal of this storyteller - magic is. 

     The guards instructed Paul that he must create the cross by folding and tearing the paper only once. That was, apparently, the "magic trick."

 

     Rebel Girl imagines the scene now – Mr. Sub with the kids gathered around folding and tearing until he made the miraculous cross. He asked for volunteers and the Little Guy (who Reb has been encouraging to participate more in class and who is an origami aficionado) volunteered. 

     Mr. Sub finished the tale by producing the cross and then, from the scraps of discarded paper, unfolding selected letters which formed two words: first LIFE and then HELL. As the third grade volunteers held up each letter as directed, Mr. Sub told the class that those who believe in Jesus Christ will have eternal LIFE and those who don’t will go to HELL. 

     The Little Guy said that the girls in the class squealed at the mention of hell. The Little Guy held one of the L's. 

     Now Rebel Girl doesn’t say this often but she is not a Christian. Neither is her husband. Neither is her son, the Little Guy. She says this now because she feels attacked, assaulted. She realizes that her reluctance to say this fact aloud is related to a sense of shame she has carried all these years, as if her lack of faith, and, in particular lack of Christian faith, somehow reduced her value as a person. That sense of shame has lingered, despite everything she has learned about herself and the world. 

     On Thursday April 28, on his ninth birthday, her son, the Little Guy, stood in front of his classmates in his public school and was told by a teacher that he, as an unbeliever, was going to hell. 

     Rebel Girl asked the Little Guy a couple questions: How’d you feel when he said that? Do you think he should have done that? The Little Guy had mixed feelings. He likes Mr. Sub after all. But yes, he knew it was wrong. Yes, he felt sort of bad. No, he didn’t say anything. If he did, he would feel worse, that nine year old holding a piece of hell in hands. 

    He didn’t want to say anything, not his truth, not his family's - so he didn’t. 

    As he talked, Rebel Girl could tell that he carried this heavily, that he knew it meant something. Rebel Girl teaches her son about religions, about why some people believe and why some people do not. Some of her most admired heroes are Catholic Worker types. There are several Bibles in the house. The Little Guy owns a copy of Tomie de Paola’s Bible stories that they consult from time to time. 

     He knows about Budhha, about the Hindu gods, about Mohammed. They have attended sedars, celebrate Christmas, Easter. His favorite song to play on the piano is “Joy to the World.” 

     When they visited New Mexico recently he was most impressed by the “spirit holes” in the floors of a Pueblo dwelling that allowed the spirits of dead to join the living during special ceremonies. 

     However, his favorite deities remain the Greek gods. There's no competing with Zeus, apparently. 

     Mr. Sub’s "magic trick," of course, was an abuse of power, an abuse of privilege, an abuse of children who trust and admire their teachers. A violation. A hit and run magic trick that has made that classroom a crime scene. Rebel Girl imagines that some children in that class are, like her family, atheists or agnostics. She knows that at least one family is Jewish. She is herself, she reminded her son, a teacher too and one who takes her responsibilities seriously. While she has views, she knows her students have their own and she is hired to teach them, not her views and values, but her particular discipline. So she does. 

     Rebel Girl will be writing more this morning: letters to the principal, the board of trustees, other interested parties. She will do what a Rebel Girl does.

       Last night as the Little Guy blew out his candles on his birthday cake, he made his wish and Rebel Girl made hers: she wants Mr. Sub to return to that classroom and stand up in front of the class with her son at his side and tell her son and the class that the Little Guy is NOT going to hell and neither is anyone else.

 

She wants more, much more, but that’s a start.

* By the way, the story of the "magic trick" has been 

confirmed via a phone call to another family. *