Oh boy, I have a doozy.

I sadly went to a catholic school all the way up until highschool. In seventh grade, your hormones are waking up, you’re noticing your peers in different ways. It’s confusing, it’s exciting, it’s fucking chaos. What you need is a mentor. What you need is someone who understands what you’re feeling and explains it to you.

Here’s what I had.

I had the same teacher for a couple of classes…english, religion, and one more I think…it’s been a long time. But the important one here is Religion.

She was one of the few teachers who wasn’t a sister of the convent of the church my school was affiliated with. Yet, somehow, she was least progressive woman in the entire school.

I’m rambling. Here’s two stories:

#1: She told a story about her roommate in college. Teacher was studious, polite blablabla. Her roommate was not. She went out and had unprotected sex nightly. Instead of contraception she just went and had abortions. (I’m not gonna bother unpacking how hard something like an abortion is to process as a 7th grader when you barely understand sex, but needless to say my perceptions of abortions and even conception was completely wacked from her)

They all graduate, move on with their lives but remain friends. Eventually her roommate gets married, and stops having abortions to have a child. She does, and when teacher goes to visit her in the hospital, she burts out in complete hysteric tears because she realized just how many babies she murdered.

Obviously that story is fucking bullshit, but a woman teaching a class of confused students that story is real as can be.

#2: A woman wanted to remain pure until she was married. One night she was in I think Las Vegas or some other sinful hellhole where she meets a lovely polite gentleman. He was very well dressed, well manicured, and somewhat flamboyant. They have some drinks and she is so enamored with this man, she realized he was the one. Since she knew this was the man she was goign to marry, why not fuck his brains out. (She probably didn’t word it that way)

So she fucks his brains out, goes to sleep. In the morning the man is gone, but there is a bouquet of flowers in her room. On it is a note “Thank you for last night. I have many nights like that, usually with men. Welcome to the wonderful world of aids”

Now that I’m a father, I look at back at this as a teachable moment. I know that I will never hide the truth from my son, no matter how painful it might be. We’re a sex positive family, and I never want my child to be confused about something and be afraid to ask me. Fuck that shit. Fuck Catholicism. Fuck indoctrinating children.