Scene: I am in an office at an institution of higher learning, in the Education department. Feeling like utter crap with a splitting-headache-moving-toward-migraine, I am trying to get some last-minute work things completed before I have to bail on the day due to pitiful sick-faceness.

Suddenly, two people meet in the hallway outside the door and start squealing like pigs about to go for slaughter (did I mention my headache?).  And…we’re off.

Characters:
Mary* – older secretary for department who has been here since the beginning of time
Jennifer – young-mid 30′s, former student, graduated about ten years ago

Jennifer: “Are you Mary?”

Mary: (hesitant) “Yes…”

Jennifer: “Hi, I’m Jennifer Bates? I was here ten years ago, do you remem…”

Mary: “JENNIFER! I thought you looked familiar! Of course I remember you!”

Jennifer: “Wow, you have a fantastic memory, good for you!”

-more squealing ensues-

Mary: “Well, how have you been?”

Jennifer: “I stayed in, like, education, I’m teaching in a public school, I love it!”

Mary: “Oh, what a sweetheart you are! Where do you do all this?”

Jennifer: “Well, I moved to Texas, so that was, like, a change.”

Mary: “Are you here visiting?”

Jennifer: “No, well, kind of, I’m here to, like, get rid of some property, I moved, like, kind of suddenly and now I have to, like, take care of loose ends.”

Mary: “Oh, okay. So you’re staying in Texas, how is it?”

Jennifer: “I live outside of Dallas, I like it a lot.”

Mary: “That’s nice.”

Jennifer: “I became a Christian and came to Jesus and that has made everything in my life just *so much* better.”

Mary: “That’s nice.”

Jennifer: “I mean, I’m still working in education but it’s so different where I live. In my small town, you, like, know everybody and everybody, like, knows you. And, like, everybody at school goes to church together. Like, all the teachers do.”

Mary: “That’s nice.”

Jennifer: “And there’s no, like, conflict of, like, faith in the schools? You know? I mean, you can, like, be who you are.”

Mary: “That’s nice.”

Jennifer: “I mean, you can’t, like, stand up and give a sermon in front of the classroom…

Mary: “Right…”

Jennifer: “…but you can have your faith there and talk about Jesus Christ being our savior to the students and it’s, like, okay.”

Mary: “That’s nice.”

At the time I finally reached behind my ear and flicked my auditory “off” switch, this conversation was still in full swing, with “Jennifer” getting increasingly dogmatic in her descriptions to “Mary” about how great it was to be able to talk about Jesus in the classroom. To her students. To her elementary school students who, at their age, tend to take Teacher’s Words as gospel (get it, gospel?).

I am glad that Jennifer has found a place to teach in which she feels comfortable, but I really wish it was a private, parochial school that was not fully funded by the state, rather than a public school, which is essentially a government institution and should not be promoting religion in the classroom.  Call me crazy, but I am a big fan (huge!) of that pesky little Establishment Clause, and it’s super good buddy, the Free Exercise Clause, which, when taken together, basically says that Congress (and this was applied to the States via the Incorporation doctrine) both can’t create a governmental religion and can’t prevent people from practicing their religion – but can prevent people from teaching  religion in public schools.  (continued below image)

It is extremely irresponsible for a public school teacher, and in this case, an entire community of teachers within a public school, to stand in the classroom and promulgate their ideas about Jesus Christ being a personal savior. In their role as teachers, paid by the state, they are employed as agents of the government and are restricted by the rules of our constitutional and statutory laws.  It is highly illegal for them to be doing this kind of “work” among students in that setting.  It is also potentially dangerous to the students themselves, some of whom may have differing religious beliefs but who, after being forcibly exposed to Christian postulations in the classroom, may experience crises of faith and poorly understood cognitive conflicts that they are afraid to discuss with their family or religious leadership, for fear of upsetting people, saying the wrong thing, or going against their family’s belief system.

This isn’t mere speculation on my part. As a child, I saw this happen over and over again with well-meaning but incredibly wrongheaded teachers who would say inappropriate religion-based things in the classroom, alienating all non-Christian kids and sometimes all non-Catholic kids and sending us (yes, “us,” I was one of those kids, it’s personal, dammit) into spiraling emotional vortexes of self-doubt and utter confusion.  Like the time I was told IN SCHOOL that I – and all Jews – were personally responsible for the death of Jesus Christ. I was ten years old. Whoa!  There was no opposing viewpoint presented. I wasn’t the only kid who felt this way or had this experience. Come on, folks, get it together.

There’s a reason that public schools are prohibited from teaching religion. Let’s try to respect that, shall we? I mean, as a teacher, do you really want your legacy to be legions of children lying awake nights, wondering if they and their entire family will be going to hell right quick? I didn’t think so. Please take this into consideration.  As we learned from Ecclesiastes 3:1, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”  That time is not between 9am and 3pm in your classroom, Jennifer. Please stop it.

And while we’re talking about public school “fails:”  this, ladies and gentlemen, is why American students need to, like, learn about the constitutional separation of, like, church and state. Like now.

*All names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the guilty.