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FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1988

West Bloomfield

4'

the spell between child and
teacher. Parents don't want
their children singled out for
disapproval, nor do they want
to tell children that a beloved
teacher is doing something
wrong.
Friends of mine in a small
community outside of town
(she's Catholic, he's Jewish)
lived through a particularly
disturbing kindergarten ex-
perience with their daughter,
but when it was all over they
wouldn't prosecute the mat-
ter. They didn't want to make
waves, and when all was said
and done they thought the
quality of teaching was
superb.
Their little girl's school day
always began with the Lord's
Prayer and the Pledge of
Allegiance, followed by a Bi-
ble story or song. Before
lunch, the class said grace.
These weren't the most
serious complaints, though,
and the parents were faintly
amused because the Bible
stories came from the Old
Thstament. The real problem
arose late in the year when
the teacher showed an ex-
plicit video of the Crucifixion
— nails going through the
hands and feet, blood trick-
ling down — and their
daughter came home badly
frightened by the gory
images.
After much agonizing her
parents met with the teacher,
who quickly admitted show-
ing the film. Oh yes, she said,
she knew she could lose her
job for this, but it was an im-
portant part of her faith to
proselytize. She promised to
tone down the religious in-
struction. End of story. The
teacher kept her job and my
friends' daughter went merri-
ly off to first grade.
That's an extreme case, but
I saw the same phenomenon
as an education reporter in a
context that chilled me just
as much since it made clear
that this was no anomaly but
a long-term, institutional
problem. At a banquet of the
North Carolina Association
of Educators — the closest
thing to a union for the state's
teachers — the program was
moving along nicely when the
chapter president realized she
had forgotten to call for the
invocation. A Baptist min-
ister hurried to the podium
and began, "It's so easy to
pray," then went on to tell how
Mary Magdalene, when she
saw Christ was resurrected,
didn't call Him "Master" or
"Lord" but called him
"Thacher."
I felt hopeless then that the
Christian influence in public
schools could ever cease as
long as an otherwise activist
and forward-looking organiza-
tion embraced Christianity as
its foundation. You can talk
about teaching cultural diver-

sity, but what does that mean
to the Jewish, Moslem, Hin-
du, Shinto and atheist kids
who are learning the Lord's
Prayer in our schools?
In my town the elementary
school really does have an in-
ternational mix of students
and less overt religious in-
struction, thanks to the in-
fluence of a state university.
But, still, religion blows
through the building like a
gentle breeze. My son — a
born scientist — learned in
second grade that Adam and
Eve were the first people.
When my first-grade daugh-
ter really wants something,
she gushes, "Boy, I'm gonna
say my prayers!"
And yet . . year by year my
desire to fight this injustice
melts away. The more I feel
like part of the community in
this small isolated town, the
less I want to hurt my
friends.
This love-thy-neighbor
business is infectious. There's
not only a willingness but an
eagerness to help out some-
one who needs a hand. Pass
the hat at any meeting and
hundreds of dollars roll in
within minutes. It's called a
love offering. People work
hard and share what they
have.
There's a sense of communi-
ty that I have felt nowhere
else in the country and that
is fertile soil for growing
strong, secure children.
Families don't spread out as
far as they do in the North,
and that appeals to me more
and more as my own children
grow up.
Frankly, my children's
religious education is scant,
but it would have been almost
completely ignored if we had
stayed up North where a good
dose of Jewish culture, for ex-
ample, can take the place of
formal religious training.
Overt anti-Semitism? Per-
haps there is some, but what
I have felt is ignorance rather
than hate. Our worst problem,
if you can even call it that,
came at Passover when local
grocers were sluggish about
ordering kosher groceries. We
eventually found some year-
old Passover matzo at the
food-charity office. The
homemade gefilte fish (from
canned salmon) was unusual
but delicious, and the bitter
herb was especially good
because it was ground fro--, a
fresh horseradish root given
to me by a sweet old preach-
er's wife in 'Tennessee. That
kind of holiday means more
than something straight off
the shelf.
I have gained an under-
standing of what it means to
be a minority. Growing up in
middle-class Southern Cali-
fornia, nothing seemed dif-
ficult. But now, as an
unbeliever in the midst of the