I am an elementary teacher living deep in the heart of the Lone Star State and because of who I am and where I live, I have never discussed my spiritual or even political beliefs at work.
Even when Especially when my colleagues discuss theirs’.
You see, I am a young woman of European descent living in a region where the dominant culture is conservative and Christian, so it’s not shocking when folks assume I am a member of this dominant culture. Depending on the circumstances, in certain situations I may correct assumptions with a simple “I’m not Christian,” other times I’ll go a little deeper and explain I’m pagan.
But at work I bite my tongue. Literally. I literally bite my tongue to keep from screaming expletives that have no place in an elementary school.
While I sit in the teacher’s lounge with my team and we eat our lunch they start talking about god and I bite my tongue, but my thoughts are alive with malice.
“It was god’s grace that allowed me to survive that car accident.”
Or maybe he’s punishing you.
“God only deals you what you can handle, that’s why I didn’t wind up in a wheelchair.”
Those Syrian children buried under the rubble of terrorist bombs must be able to handle it then, hmm?
“They won’t let us call it an “act of god” in class, we have to say “act of nature.” But who controls nature? Science they’d say, but we know better.”
You ignorant pond scum.
“You’re father’s unexpected death was all a part of god’s plan.”
There aren’t words in the English language vile enough for me to properly tell you to fuck off.
“I’ve confessed all my dirty secrets to you now, I guess you know I’m a sin filled heathen.”
Oh sweet child, you have no idea who you’re talking to.