A three-fold cord, proclaims Ecclesiastes, is not quickly broken. During the week of teacher orientation, sitting in a stuffy upstairs room, I started to see exactly what I’d signed on to do, including expectations I’m not sure the principal and I covered in our two phone conversations. One was our absolute allegiance to the church that sponsored the school, which he expressed crudely as “No visitee other churchee.” We were expected to be at all services and to take part in the Thursday evening visitation program, but with a twist. We were to visit not prospective members, but the homes of students in our classrooms or home rooms. We always went two by two, which was how Jesus sent out seventy of his followers to preach and heal. The fact that I had six sophomores in my home room did not excuse me from going with someone else after I’d visited those six families. The rationale was based on a simple idea: “If you know the parent, you know the child.” The school also believed in a “three-fold cord,” which Scripture said was not quickly broken. If parents, teachers, and the church were all working together for the same goal, it was more likely to happen. At least we weren’t making cold calls; we were to phone the family of the week and set up a convenient time (always on a Thursday evening, though). All teachers know that Thursday is one of the worst evenings to go back out; we’d almost survived the week, had only one more day to slog through—but had to be charming and intelligent for parents, say something encouraging about their adolescent. Occasionally, we got lucky and were invited to dinner, saving the cost of a meal at home. Visitation was agony for an introvert like me, but I did this for the seven years I worked at the school. At one point our principal, who wanted to ensure our compliance and possibly had a sadistic streak, passed out our paper paychecks on Thursday evenings when we met at the church. That was before he started passing them out Friday afternoons at staff meetings. Either way, it meant a frantic run to the bank on Friday after school, hoping to avoid bounced checks.
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Baptist GirlI was a conservative Baptist girl who grew up to become a career Christian, working first in a Baptist school and then in a Baptist college. For about three decades, it was very good until it wasn’t, and I had to leave. But the Baptists formed me. This is my homage to the good times and good people of the world I left, finally, at forty-three, when I became an Episcopalian. These are my memories; others might disagree with my recollections. So be it. Archives
January 2024
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