Tag Archives: hands

Here's just one story of the many stories that I've written in the past year documenting my experience as an Atheist student at a Christian high school in, of course, Texas. More information on this little project of mine is written after the story. I watched, bemused, as Mrs. Kooch set two handfuls of fossils down on a display table at the head of the classroom and went to retrieve more from the classroom’s storage cabinet. That day, we were to examine fossils which, understandably, had me quite surprised. I would’ve thought that fossils would have been, at the very least, carefully omitted from conversation and curriculum. Mrs. Kooch had, by this time, gathered two dozen fossils and had neatly aligned them on the table top. Seemingly satisfied with her work, she stepped back and adjusted the bright green fanny pack which hung about her waist. Placing her hands upon her hips, she announced to the class in a voice accented with southern drawl, “Today, we’ll be havin’ a look-see at these fossils.” She ran her candy apple red fingernails through her curly blonde hair and fixed a smile upon her face. “But first,” she continued as she began to survey her class, her nose raised at an unfriendly level, “we’ll pray that God will bless this class.” Fifteen pairs of eyes closed instantaneously and fifteen out of the sixteen heads occupying the room were bowed. The sudden, synchronized movement caused me to wake with a start from the early morning stupor I had been enjoying. With sleep now out of the question, I took the time to watch my classmates and to enjoy the amusing oxymorons that had presented themselves that morning. Christian science teachers. Atheists attending Christian schools. Praying to the god of the New and Old Testament that a lesson on fossils would be successful. The prayer had ended and Mrs. Kooch began the discussion by asking, “Does anyone have any questions about these fossils?” “I do.” I said, being the first to raise my hand. “How old are these fossils?” “Aha, good question, dear.” she exclaimed warmly, picking up a large chunk of amber containing various insects, lifting it to an eye adorned with garish navy blue eye shadow and examining it closely. “Some of these fossils are as old as five thousand years old!” Oh, no. Had I heard her correctly? “How old?” I asked, sounding worried. “Five thousand years.” she repeated, growing slightly impatient. “It has to be said,” I thought. “Here goes.” “That’s ridiculous. These are fossilized prehistoric creatures! Their age is in the millions, not thousands.” I had barely finished saying this when Mrs. Kooch threw her head back and unleashed a shrill, panic-filled giggle. “But that’s impossible, the Bible says the world is six thousand years old and that means the world is six thousand years old! Nothing can be older than that except for Almighty God.” She rambled in an oddly reassuring voice. “But to suggest,” I continued levelly, “that the world began at about the same time that the Sumerians invented glue would be kind of silly, don’t you think? I mean, especially when you’re holding the evidence in your hand.” I heard the amber clatter back to the table, accompanied by the presumably imagined sound of a tea kettle full of boiling water. She began to slowly approach my desk with her hands once again resting upon her hips. She came to a halt directly in front of my desk and peered down her nose at me with a most peculiar expression in her eyes. I waited for her to speak, half-expecting a barrage of profanities to erupt from her pursed lips. Nothing, only silence. She began to turn a brighter shade of pink as each noiseless moment passed. The entire class seemed to be holding their breath, anxious to see what was in store for me. Interesting events were rare at the small, unremarkable private school, and with considerable shock they watched as an event of the “interesting” genre unraveled before their eyes. Wearing a quizzical look on my face, I continued to meet her stare, which appeared to be directed through my skull and into some macabre alternate dimension. Nothing continued to happen as she stood there considering me, her lip curling ever so slightly. Just as it became unbearable, the silence was broken when her phone began to ring and the tune entitled “Onward Christian Soldiers” pervaded the classroom’s stagnant air. Apparently, she at first intended to ignore the phone’s ironically cheerful ringtone and let it just go on ringing. “Oh, I love this song!” I exclaimed rapturously as I began to enthusiastically pantomime conducting an orchestra to the ringtone’s electronic beat. Mrs. Kooch’s carefully composed mask of solemnity shattered to reveal a face of flabbergasted revulsion. She was now visibly desperate to regain her until-recently unquestioned authority over this blasphemer, now gesticulating wildly before her. She knew what she must do to end this unwelcomed fun. She hastily sculpted her features into a toothy and strained grin which eventually collapsed and came to resemble a snarl. She retrieved her phone, violently jabbed its touch screen with her gnarled index finger, and flung it back into the neon green fanny pack around her waist without once interrupting her malevolent gaze upon me. My hands came to an abrupt stop as the music ended and I remember feeling a brief, but nevertheless overwhelming, wave of pity for her poor cell phone wash over me. My attention was promptly redirected to the rows of teeth that Mrs. Kooch was now baring at me. “Don’t…you…dare,” she growled, leaning nearer and nearer to me with each syllable, “question my God and his son, Jesus Christ! OR THE HOLY SPIRIT!” Her voice had gradually risen into a blood-curdling shriek. She seemed to right herself and to begin to slowly lean away from me until I bewilderedly replied, “But, really, I was only stating a fact, I never actually questioned –“ “Enough! Or you’ll find yourself cleaning the lunch tables for the rest of this year, startin’ today! And, don’t play dumb even though I’d bet that playin’ dumb ain’t hard for people like you.” She smirked a particularly nasty smirk and turned slightly towards the class, anticipating a chorus of laughter to erupt from the rest of her students. Silence resounded until a boy in the back of the classroom gave a thunderous sneeze and went to find a tissue. Quiet blessings were uttered by a few people. The sneezing boy thanked them. Looking slightly disconcerted, Mrs. Kooch turned back to me and grunted, “Where d’you go to church? I’mma have to have a talk with your pastor.” “Nowhere.” I answered curtly, with a nod. Mrs. Kooch’s dull gray eyes sparkled with what was indubitably undiluted hatred and she turned away and briskly strode toward her desk without speaking another word. It was only until after she had returned to her desk that I was able to lower my right eyebrow to be nearly level with my left one. Mrs. Kooch proceeded to make the decision to abandon the fossil discussion and instead distributed a class syllabus amongst the students. However, my mind was elsewhere. What is to be my fate this year? Am I to be crucified at the hands of this malevolent teacher? Stoned to death? Sacrificed on a stone altar to the Abrahamic god? I stole a glance towards Mrs. Kooch, seated at her desk across the windowless classroom. She had just commanded her students to read and reread her syllabus in silence, having put especial emphasis on the “silence” part. In the meantime, she was busying herself by wringing her hands and scowling fiercely at the fossils still lined up on the table. Note: The fossils were never spoken of or seen again for the entire year. They were, presumably, gathered up and carefully stowed away by Mrs. Kooch. However, I hold an alternate theory that some divine force destroyed the fossils in order to keep that pesky doubt down to a minimum. added by: EtVoila