My last blog brought back memories of my 4 years teaching at a Catholic School. After an hour and a half recorded interview summer of 1983 conducted by the principle, and answering her different forms of the same about 10 questions over and over, she chose me. She was a nun and a story for another time. I taught kindergarten halftime my first year and move to first grade with that class the next year. I taught first grade for three years there before I married and moved.

Since we are in the season of Lent and at this point in my life I have left the Catholic Church, I would like to tell about two of my experience with my first grade classes. I have countless wonderful stories. My choice to leave was not easy.

The first experience with the class I was with for two years. During Lent, Sr. BettyAnn wanted us to take our classes to do Stations of the Cross. There are  14 stations that go through Jesus’s Crucifixion  and are pictured around the walls of the church. The class I was with for two years had students with emotional problems and several non-Catholics. When we would go we did not use any special prayer book. We went from station to station and they took turns telling what each was about. We talked how hurt Jesus was. How he felt no one loved him. He was lonely and picked on. They were quiet and reverent. One time the 6th grade barreled in. They were noisy and not behaving as they should in a church.  My class was shocked and a bit offended by them, but we finished quietly and left. The truth of how this class understood and loved the Stations of the Cross came at the end of year. It had been awhile since we had done them. The last week of school I gave them choice one day. I said we could have an extra recess or go do the Stations one more time. This class without a second thought shouted and chose the Stations as soon as I said it. So that’s what we did.

My second group of first graders had emotional needs too. This class had exactly 13 boys. During Lent and getting close to Holy Week, it hit me – Jesus and the Apostles and the Last Supper. All the boys wanted to be Jesus. I told them I would not pick but God would. All their names went into a container and the left would be Jesus. I only remember the last 3 clearly. The last 3 to pull were Judas, Peter, and Jesus. The one pulled for Judas I would have picked in a heartbeat. He always wore camouflage and army things and that’s how I saw Judas. The ones left would not have been my choices. They were both pretty rough around the edges and came from less financially secure homes (though the latter not reason). The one pulled for Peter was on the edge of bullish and very upset about being Peter. Then, I explained Peter was the Rock and the Jesus leaves in charge. After going home and talking, he was happy the next day. Jesus was a small little boy who was suicidal and struggled with school a bit. He told me once he wanted to kill himself because he just basically was not good enough for anything. He was not kidding. God picked him not me but no question it was the best choice. All the boys were happy with their parts because that’s who God wanted them to play. They accepted their Jesus. One of the Apostles volunteered and brought in his white shepherd costume to wear because Jesus should have a costume. I wrote something on a card for each one to say during the play. They rose to the occasion. And, my little Jesus seemed to have a new outlook. But then, I did not pick him – God did.