Yeah, so every Wednesday afternoon when I was in grammar school, and then on various weeknights when I was in Junior High, we were hauled off to what once was Holy Infant High School next to Holy Infant Church in Orange, CT.

I mean, don't get me wrong; I love my Church (even if I don't attend services as often as both God and I think I oughta) and the people who run Holy Infant.

It's just that, after nine years of that stuff, I feel like I learned nothing about my religion--about its history, its traditions, its specific decrees. I think we picked up a Bible once in nine years there. The kids didn't want to be there, and most of them were rowdy as all hell (that was back when I feared authority, so I tended to sit quietly). So nothing got done, and we didn't learn much at all.

Except for three things.

I like to tell people that catechism classes taught me three basic things, whose value is questionable. This is what I gained out of nine years:

  1. Don't do drugs.
  2. Be nice to people.
  3. If a kid falls down a well, go get help.
Make a lot of sense, don't they? Anyhow, that's what I learned in Sunday School, as it were. Thank God my parents taught me more.


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