Stained Glass Cracks

Stained Glass Cracks

Tempest

05/26/2022

I enter the elementary classroom, eight on the dot, like always. Unlike the other students, I am used to being the early bird of the class. Being the early bird means that I get a head start to the day’s assignments and lessons, which means far less stress for later on. But more importantly, it means that I get a good idea as to the teachers temperament for the day. And today was not going to be a good day. The male teacher, who we liked to call Mr. Cross behind his back because of the crosses on his desk and around his neck, was breathing deeply and gripping the cross onto his necklace like a lifeline. He was furious. I knew I would have to warn everyone off from trying to push their luck for a bit. He is known for being extremely explosive at students at any moment if pushed. If he is this angry already and class hasn’t even started…
“Woah look at Mr. Cross’s face!”
“Yeah, he looks super red. Man…”
“Do you think he’s going to make us do morning prayer again?”
“I hope not. Mom said she might bring it up to the administration if he does.”
“What’s wrong with morning prayer?”
I’m already exhausted. Passing notes to every table isn’t easy when trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. At least it seems that everyone got the message. I don’t like being forced into morning prayer anymore than the rest of them, but it’s our safest bet if we don’t want recess to be cancelled again.
“Everyone. Quiet down. Today we are going to start with morning prayer-”
We immediately groan in unison against our better judgement. Some of us don’t mind it that much but it still feels tedious all the same. That is until Johnny raises his hand. Everyone tenses in panic and intrigue. I instantly give him the stink eye. I’ve known Johnny for a while now and I am one of the few capable of reminding him that his wild card antics don’t just affect him anymore. But today he doesn’t seem to care.
“Teacher? Why are we doing morning prayer when the parents said not to?”
Those who were close enough could see Mr. Cross’s fingers twitch and his face steadily turning red. This doesn’t look good.
“Because we need to pray to God for a good morning and rest of our day.”
“But what if we don’t believe in God?”
The entire room freezes. A thin piece of pencil lead could have dropped and you would’ve heard it from a outside. Everyone knew that you didn’t challenge Mr. Cross on this, at least, you subconsciously knew. Because every time it’s brought up in lessons, he would ignore it or simply denounce the notion all together. What is Johnny trying to do?
• Johnny is smiling.
o He is SMIRKING. He knows what he’s doing.
• Johnny has his hands clasped together on the table in our usual prayer position.
o Not exactly. His elbows are on the table and his knees are spread apart. That’s against the rules.
• Johnny’s eyes are shining with mirth.
o This is malicious compliance. He knows the school’s rules on student independence and classroom religious practices. He is goading Mr. Cross.
Mr. Cross isn’t the most liked teacher in the school. He does his job well enough; he just tends to push his Christian views onto the students when he feels like we have the time. Even the more religious students don’t enjoy having their free time spent praying when they probably already did their morning prayers. I don’t appreciate it either, especially since I just moved from a Catholic kindergarten not too long ago and this Montessori school is explicitly “OPEN TO ALL RELIGIONS.” Although, I don’t think this makes him a bad person.
Johnny isn’t really inclined to care at the moment.
“And what if I don’t? I’m not required to perform any religious acts according to the student guidebook. And it’s not like you can take away a participation grade if I don’t pray along with the class because it’s not a part of the curriculum.”
“You are pushing my patience young man. Now let’s just get this done-”
“No.”
No one dares to make a sound. The wind from outside is gentle, a light whistle, quite similar to the sweet chimes of small bells. A sharp contrast to the increasingly sour taste in my mouth and the feeling of dread growing in the pits of my stomach. As well as the air conditioning’s continuous humming acting as a backdrop to this tense fight of wills. A fight that Mr. Cross has evidently…

…lost.
“YOU DISGUSTING REPROBATE!!!”
He threw a chair at Johnny.
He threw a chair at Johnny.
He.
Threw.
A.
Chair.
At.
Johnny.
Why did this have to happen at all? This school isn’t a Catholic school. The other teacher isn’t even pushing for morning prayers either. She is just sitting there in shock! Not doing anything. Why does he feel so compelled to enforce this? Mr. Cross doesn’t even really present himself as evangelical in the traditional sense. It is just incomprehensible to me. Is this what I will be like in the future by being Catholic? A violent, red faced, heaving individual who is dedicated to his beliefs so much that they’re willing to hurt someone they’ve been charged to protect and guide.
Why do I have to question this again?
The chair that flew across the room has barely missed Johnny. There are several seconds of absolute silence and genuine fear from myself, the students and even the second teacher who was sitting at her desk opposite to the entrance. She’s currently standing to survey the damage. Next to the classroom’s door now lies the shattered remains of a once functional wooden chair. Splintered and jagged, but with significant portions of the main structure still intact, it feels like a perfect representation of our situation. Fragile, dangerous, and all over the place.
The next couple of hours move by in a blur, for everyone involved surprising enough. Because only the students and the teachers in the room at the time are aware anything happened our schedule just continues without delay. Even though we have a camera in the classroom that’s always on, though I doubt that someone was watching it since the system goes unmanned most times. Everything just goes on. Until recess.
“I thought Johnny was going to die!”
“Did you really think that? He aimed away from Johnny.”
“You are so dumb if you think that. It was too close to be on purpose!”
“That’s true! That was way too close!”
“Is he in trouble?”
“Probably…”
A while in the future, after my grade group moves on to another classroom and teacher, we will find out that Mr. Cross has “willingly” left to retire. Nobody will believe this statement.
After the day is over. We act as if nothing happened. It’s somewhat bizarre since in the back of the student’s minds we are aware of the fact that if we push too hard, there is a good chance that we’ll get smacked up the back of the head with a full chair.
Religion is a scary thing to me. And I don’t understand why people connect it with education. I don’t get religion. I was raised Catholic and I don’t get it. I was going to a Catholic afterschool program and I questioned things. They didn’t like that. And after this I questioned things more. Others avoided the subject. Some admitted to leaning towards atheism near the beginning of middle school. His pushing made us question. His lack of control made us question. Our parents couldn’t guide us because we chose to mostly remain silent. The few of us who said anything weren’t taken seriously at the moment. I don’t think I will ever get it.