The sun warmed the back of my neck from across the classroom. It was so bright that Ms. Williams didn’t bother turning on the lights that day. Or maybe she was still respecting the mood after the Towers fell across the Hudson River last week. While my classmates struggled with fractions, I continued to teach myself about variables and solving for x. It was beyond me how math was difficult. The logic’s built in, simple formulas and tricks to remember to master complex problems. But that’s for them to figure out.
A few minutes after I completed that night’s intended math homework and my classmates were mentally exhausted, Ms. Williams let us free for lunch. Brown paper covered textbooks and notebooks were haphazardly thrown into desks as we scrambled for the locker room. “Oh, Ricky. Can you stay behind for a minute?” My classmates didn’t bother to tease me anymore; it was established last year in 6th grade that I was clearly the teacher’s pet. I was naturally gifted and quiet. It wasn’t my fault that our school had class sizes so small teachers took on two grades at a time. Maybe that was to blame for the remedial math.
“Yes, Ms. Williams?” Even though she was black, she was obviously mixed. Lighter than the rest of us and with hair so long and black, it was easy for me to assume some sort of Asian descent after learning her first name was Lee. In hindsight, I was definitely wrong about this. Her small round glasses sat at the tip of her round nose. She stood behind her desk with her hands clasped in front of her, her blouse and skirt that matched my uniform’s colors covering everything up to her wrist and ankles. Frigid to the sight but familiar to me; teacher’s pets tend to recognize each other immediately.
Without looking at her desk, she grabbed a sheet of paper. “I know most of the students throw their old assignments in the trash, but I know how you like to hold on to yours,” she said. I never looked back at my folders, but it was a comfort to know my growth was archived. “Here’s your Religion reflection from last week. I noticed something interesting that we should talk about.” She took her seat to get on my eye level
“Did you notice my handwriting improved?” I joked.
She chuckled. “No. You, well, you called God ‘Her’ multiple times.”
I looked up from my graded assignment bewildered. It read 10 out of 10, so I was confused how there was an issue. “Yeah well, God gets called Him all the time, but what if She’s a Her? It made sense, seeing as we’re made in Their image and at least 50% of the population is female.”
Ms. Williams grabbed the cross hanging from her neck as she searched for the right words to say. “I’m sorry, Ricky, but God is a man. He created Adam and THEN Eve. Men are the head of the household. Our preachers. Our leaders.”
“Yeah, but they say behind every strong man is a strong woman.” I got to watch a lot of TV after I finished my homework, possibly why I was so imaginative. “And yeah, Mr. Kingsley is our principal, but his wife really seems like the smart one. And what about you? Teachers are leaders too. I don’t understand, Ms. Williams.”
“God is a man, and that’s the end of the discussion. That’s how it’s been and always will be.”
“It’s just… men wrote the Bible, so what if they…”
For the first time, I saw rage in her eyes directed towards me. “Be quiet, Ricky! And you know God wrote the Bible.” If she wasn’t naturally reserved, people might have heard us from the hallway. “Go to lunch. And if you call God a woman again, I’ll take points off next time.”
I ate lunch in silence as the guys at my lunch table tried to guess all the places mentioned in Ludacris’ Area Codes so they could find the cutest girls. My thermos full of Chef Boyardee tasted more lukewarm than usual. How could a woman I respected so much not respect herself enough to even imagine God was a Her? Was she brainwashed? Was religion to blame? Before I knew it, my spiderweb of inquiries stretched out to recess. I found myself sitting in the doublehead oak tree when Julian freed me from my mind’s tangles. “Didn’t you hear the bell? C’mon.”
I took my seat at the back of the class. My reflection was still on top of my desk. I stared at it as Ms. Williams got preteens to quiet down and take their seats. Instructing us to take out our history textbooks, an urge came over me. For the first time, I shouted in class. “God is a woman!” I covered my mouth as everyone turned to look at the quiet, smart kid. “Well… maybe. But I don’t see why we can’t call him both. She’s everything right?”
“So God is Whitney Houston?” Kyle joked.
“No, he’s right. God could be a woman.” Melissa was just as smart and curious as I was. I’m glad she had my back. Once she joined, the other girls started chanting, “God is a Woman!”
It took her a minute, but Ms. Williams regained control of her classroom after a few “Alrights” and “Be quiets.” Her rage towards me returned. “Ricky, go to the principal’s office.”
The classroom “Ooooooo’d” while I rose in disbelief. Hopefully my mother would excuse my behavior given my cause. Who knew. All I could do was pray to God that She’d stay on my side.
Word
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