Mr. Steve--Religion Teacher?

Years ago (sometime in the mid-eighties, I think), Sister Enza asked me to teach CCD to St. Luke’s first graders on Saturdays. I still can’t figure out why she asked me.  Maybe it was because I provided the whole school with candy canes at Christmas time.  I worked at Thrifty Drug and got a discount.  My cost was 79 cents for a box of 50.  I would buy $20 worth every Christmas (sometimes more) and give them to Sister Enza for the school.   Maybe it was because Marilyn and I were at every children's mass at 11 a.m. like clockwork with our two kids in tow.  Maybe she was impressed with the level of understanding my daughters showed in their own CCD classes.  Whatever the reason, I reluctantly agreed.   

CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, or “Catechism”) was pretty simple with first graders. It certainly wasn’t the Baltimore Catechism I was taught at that age. The lesson plan was mostly left up to me, so long as I taught the children the very basic things they should know about God—Who He is, why He created us, and about Jesus Christ in a very basic manner.

My first day was interesting, to say the least. There were, to my recollection, 5 girls and 5 boys. The girls were very quiet and eager to learn, and the boys wanted only to play. It quickly became apparent to me that I was going to have to get thinking on their level to get through to them and get them to listen to what I had to teach.  I thanked God that my inner self is still a 6-year-old boy, sometimes. 

I asked them, “What have you learned from Mommy and Daddy about God?” I asked this for two other reasons than the one above: first, I wanted to know what kind of support I would get in my teaching from the parents. Second, I wanted to have a starting point from which to begin.

The only answer I got from one of the girls, and the others all agreed, was that, “God loves me.” Aha! Now I had a reference point with which to begin. I asked one of the boys “Why?” He said, “Why what?”, as he wandered around the classroom looking for toys to play with.  I said, “Why does God love you?”

Before he could answer, I asked the rest of the class, “Why does God love all of you?” You could hear a pin drop. They wanted to know the answer. I told them I would give them the answer at the end of the semester if they hadn’t figured it out by then all by themselves.

It was all I needed to get their attention. I began to tell them what I wanted them to learn that first day, which was basically Genesis 1—the creation of the world. The language I used was something like, “God made the heavens and the earth and everything in it”.  Big mistake! That set the boys off going around the room again, pointing to everything from the chairs they had been sitting in to the chalkboard to the toys that were there, asking, “Did God make this? And this? And this?” I replied that He didn’t make them in the way they were thinking things were made. I made this question their homework for the week. I wanted them to ask their parents for the answer. I thanked God the hour was over. I assigned the children the prescribed homework assignment from their CCD workbook as well (I think it was a picture of God “hovering over the waters” and separating them into the seas and the dry land), telling them that the best coloring jobs would receive a surprise the following week. I also told them that a treat would be given for the best behaved each week. That first day I chose one of the girls for the best behaved (she was a little “mother” trying to help me rein in the boys), and I gave her a lollipop with the understanding that she would ask her parents before she ate it.

When the children had gone, Sister Enza came to me and asked how it went. I told her about my attempts at my first teaching job and my frustrations that I felt I probably didn’t teach them the lesson they were supposed to learn. She said, “Don’t worry. They’ll surprise you, I guarantee it!”

The next week, I pointed to the chair I was sitting in and asked one of the boys, “Who made this chair?” He said, “God”. I said, “That’s right! Do you know how?” Another of the children piped in, “God made the tree that was made into the wood for the seat!” Another said, “And He made the man who made the chair!” Yet another kid said, “And he taught the man who made the chair how to put it together!” Still another said, “And Mommy said He made ME, too!” I was so amazed at the answers they gave, and the thought that they had put into the homework, that they all received a lollipop that second week!

The following morning, which was Sunday, as my family and I were leaving Mass, one of my students’ parents came up to me and thanked me! She said her son loved me and the “stories” I was telling. She said he could hardly wait for Saturdays so he could go to school with “Mr. Steve.” She said a couple of the other parents had also expressed similar sentiments to her. I started to feel better about this “teaching” thing.

The rest of the year was a breeze. I had fun, and I learned more from those children about the innocent faith that Christ asks of all of us than I could ever teach them. Which is, I think, what Sister Enza had in mind all along. And yes, by the end of the semester the children (and me, too) all learned why God made us, and more importantly, why He loves us.

These kids are all in their mid-thirties with children of their own by now.  I wonder how much of what “Mr. Steve” taught them they remember, if they remember at all.  Most of all, I wonder if they still remember that God loves them, and why.  I pray that they do. 

Now that I'm retired, I am giving serious thought to the idea of volunteering to teach a low-grade level CCD again.  Or even something as simple as teaching youngsters how to pray the Rosary.  We'll see if the Holy Spirit concurs and helps me in my discernment.