Church and School:

At long last, it’s the holiday break! Two weeks away from school, grading work, scraped knees, runny noses, and spelling quizzes. A chance to relax and come back refreshed in January. So of course, I started my break by visiting my parents and going to church with them. School and church. At least I’m keeping them separate.

Church Brings Back Fond Childhood Memories for Me

When we arrived at church on Christmas day, I was comforted by the familiarity of crossing yourself with holy water. I breathed in the scent of votive candles and remembered my childhood days in religion classes, pretending to pay attention while giggling with my friends. I passed by the statue of Saint James the Greater. When I was a kid, I thought he grated cheese. I chuckled to myself at the old joke as I took a seat at the pew. 

I didn’t see any people I recognized. A lot of people left this church, my dad explained, because the priest gives boring sermons. The people who were present were mostly older adults. A few babies were present, but it didn’t look like a lot of families were around. 

Church and School: How Religious are my Kids?

I wonder how many families still send their kids to Sunday school, or the religion classes I took after school when I was younger. In the second-grade class that I teach, religion doesn’t come up much. When someone’s dog or grandma passes away, we discuss it a bit, but I don’t go into detail about heaven or souls unless the student does first. Usually, I ask what the child’s parents have already told them, and go from there. 

Jesus Loves your Dead Dog and Hates when you Lie

Religion is a handy, trusted source of comfort for some of the kids in my class with dead dogs. Some feel better when they think Fido is in heaven, having a lovely time. I also notice kids using religion to justify their behavior in positive ways, like, Jesus says you’re supposed to tell the truth. The best thing is for kids to tell the truth because it’s the right thing to do and keeps order and trust in the classroom; but yeah, Jesus also says so, you’d better listen to him. 

Please don’t Make me Teach Religion to your Kids

It’s moments like this when I’m glad I teach second grade because that means the kids aren’t very sophisticated. They love to ask questions, and they can be persistent. But they also don’t ask very deep questions. I do sometimes feel uncomfortable standing on that line between what I want to say and what I’m allowed to say. But I’m glad that line is there. Because I don’t want to talk to your kid about God. I barely want to talk to my own family about God.

Going to Church with my Grandmother

My grandmother, who came to church with me that morning, did not have much of a formal education, but she was learned in Christianity. She knows all the prayers in English and in Creole, her native language. Her hobbies include collecting votive candles, but never lighting them because she can’t smell them anyway. I actually had to convince her to let me pick her up and drive her back to my parents’ house for Christmas Eve dinner, an hour each way, because she wanted to go to midnight mass in her neighborhood. She caved when I promised that I would go with her to church in the morning. 

I pull up to her second-floor walk-up apartment, leaving my car in idle with blinkers on, to help her with her bags. In a bus lane. I jokingly ask: Do you have all your medications? All of them? Even the insulin? I’ll turn this car around, grandma! That makes her laugh. For a serious woman, she has a great sense of humor, and loves to laugh. 

Stories from Youth

We pull away. I have a 2000s love song playlist playing on Spotify, and after singing along to a few songs while she sits silently, I ask her if she has a favorite song. She says she doesn’t, but she likes hearing me sing. I remind her of her sister who lives in Maryland, who knew every word to every song when they were younger. I ask if she misses any of her old friends from Haiti, and she tells me a long story about a friend she worked as a housekeeper with when she was trying to get a work visa to come to the United States. 

My grandmother is a woman who has worked as a gardener, a nanny, a taxi driver, a factory worker. She lost a fingertip in a sewing machine when she worked in a textile mill. She raised my father on her own. With the help of her sisters, but without the help of a husband. And never showed any interest in falling in love after that. She remarked that she always accepted the challenges God sent her way, because she knew He had a plan for her. And, it seemed, she didn’t indulge her own wants or needs, to the point that she would never demand that her granddaughter pick her up and bring her to Christmas dinner. She might accept an invitation, but she wouldn’t ask. 

The Place of Religion in my Life

I’m glad my parents raised me with religion. I value the work ethic, the sense of right and wrong, and the importance of gratitude and forgiveness that my faith instilled me with. But I feel I have grown out of it. I tell the truth because I want to be someone who people can trust, not just because it’s a commandment. I don’t go to Church because it’s Christmas and I’m supposed to, and I don’t go to confession so a priest can forgive me of my sins. If I make a mistake, if I sin, I need to take action to make myself a better person, or repair the relationships in my life that I have damaged. Not confess to God.

If going to church helps people make good choices, then great. But I don’t want the grandmas of the world to feel they need to deny themselves the pleasure of spending Christmas Eve dancing and telling stories with their granddaughters because God wants you to be hardworking, and gluttony is a vice. 

I hope my students are having a good holiday break with their families. I hope they are having fun, and celebrating their traditions, religious or not. And I hope they are having conversations about character and morality, sharing gratitude for the good things that happened this year, and making resolutions for the year to come. These things are best learned in intimate, home settings, and not in school, with me, their teacher.