Argh, I give up
Title:
Topic: Pure
Wordcount: 1,394
Notes: This is crap. Completely. However, it's been useful crap: I wrote this, hated it, and then realised that I was going about the whole story in the wrong way. And now, all of about four days later, I'm 10,000 words into what happens after this bit (and it involves vampires, so it must be cool!). So, eventually, this will get rewritten to be slightly less... um, crazy dumb and the rest, and who knows what'll happen with it. Point is, I haven't actually been able to face going back to fix it, yet.
But I'm posting it anyway, because I hate to spoil my record, and I really don't think I'll get something else written before Sunday.
Also of note is that I took my inspiration from here. It is frightening.
Six weeks into the school year, and Kerryn Edmonds still walks into the classroom terrified. She's studied four years for this, staying up late to get her assignments just right, and working weekends to keep herself in ramen and rice. It took her most of her last semester to find a job, and in the end, it meant lying about her beliefs in order to secure this position. It's hard being an atheist in a Christian High School in small-town bible belt America... especially when they'd probably fire your drowning-in-debt ass if they found out.
Four years of college never taught her how to understand the religious fervour that her students convey, nor how to relate to classes of teenagers who seem to disapprove of almost everything her wide-scoped literature appreciation courses try to offer. From Greek myth to Harry Potter, even parts of Shakespeare - though worse was her attempt to include the Bible, despite avoiding any suggestion that it was fiction.
In six weeks, it doesn't feel as though she's gotten anywhere, or taught anyone anything.
Monday morning, first period, is her twelfth-graders. Despite being closer to her own age - Kerryn is nearly twenty-three - they are in some ways the hardest class of all. Perhaps it's even because they're so close to her in age, because Kerryn doesn't feel authoritive over them, and she certainly can't relate her own twelfth-grade experiences.
The class files in, a group of modestly dressed individuals, the boys with their hair cut short and facial hair tidily shaved, the girls with their hair tied back. They talk and joke and laugh the same as any group of teenagers, but there's less swearing, and more often their discussions seem to slide back towards their religion. When the bell rings, they quiet - slowly, at first, then altogether, as she stands up to go to the blackboard. Her hands are shaking.
'Pride and Prejudice', she writes on the board. 'By Jane Austen.'
She turns to face the class, considering them. "Has everyone finished the book?" She set the due date for finishing it to today, and she finds that the class is usually quite prompt - except when they refuse to read something. She's fairly confident that maybe this one will be a success.
Hands raise. All of them, to Kerryn's relief. "Thoughts?" she asks, moving to lean up against the desk. The principal tends to disapprove of such a casual stance, but Kerryn finds her knees shake too much, otherwise, and the students don't complain.
"Miss Edmonds..." It's a tall, slim girl in the third row, three seats to the right. She's pretty, in a wholesome way, and popular, from what Kerryn can pick up.
Even so, she has to consult her roll - she hates making them sit in alphabetic order, but she'll never remember their names, otherwise - before she can respond: "Miss Delaney. What is it, Josephine?"
"You keep assigning us books with bad morals. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this."
Kerryn hesitates, perplexed, then shakes her head. "I'm not entirely sure what you're referring to, in this case, Josephine... Will you explain what you mean?"
"It's in all the books. Every one of them. Witchcraft, or heathenism, or disrespect for parents. And in this one-- Lydia clearly runs away to have sex with a man, and her family is far more concerned with their social standings than her wickedness and sin. She never gets punished. At least," she amends, after a moment, "Not that we see. I'm all for literature, Miss Edmonds, and I like you, but I'm concerned that we're being taught the wrong literature."
The class - the entire class, it seems - nod in agreement. Kerryn grabs hold of the desk to keep herself steady, as she attempts to come up with something to say in response. "So we should bypass the great works of literature because things happen within them that don't fit 100% with your beliefs?"
"I think," comes a voice from the other side of the room, "That maybe it is good for us to read some of these things, but it's dangerous, too. We have to be very careful not to lead ourselves into temptation." Her words are accompanied by a flurry of agreement, though from some quarters it seems hesitant, as though some aren't sure that even that much was appropriate.
"Lead you into temptation?" Kerryn asks, despite herself.
"Sex," responds one of the boys, promptly. "I know none of it has been all that... explicit, but it's still dangerous. We're still teenage boys." He's unembarrassed by this. "Maybe it's different, where you've been, Miss Edmonds, but a lot of us believe that we should avoid all sexual thoughts, as well as the act, until we're married."
Kerryn can't help it: she flushes. "And the mere mention of sex...?"
"It's not easy," says one of the other boys, quite placidly. "That's why we try and stick together - to make it easier for ourselves. So that we can all stay pure." He touches something on her wrist, which she can't quite see, looking proud.
Hastily, someone else breaks in, noting, "It's not that all sexual things are bad, or even that we should take away all temptation - because temptation makes us stronger. But... at school..."
Out of the corner of her eye, Kerryn can see several students looking disapproving, leaving an undercurrent of different ideas that she can't quite grasp. She catches Josephine's eye, the girl being one of the disapprovers, and raises her eyebrow: "You clearly think differently?"
"Temptation may make us stronger, but that doesn't mean that it's okay to read things that give us poor role models. It's not that I think we should be saved from temptation at school that I don't like these books - it's that these books are inappropriate for anywhere. They consider themselves so holy, with their masturbands, but it's not that simple."
"Masturbands?" By this stage, the entire lesson has been left behind, but Kerryn can't see any real way to bring it back on course. Besides which, she's honestly fascinated, finally discovering something more about how these teenagers thing.
Several of the boys raise their hands, showing a black plastic bracelet. "We can wear them as long as we don't..."
She nods. She gets the point. "You do realise that - biologically - your bodies are designed, at this age, to encourage those feelings?" Human biology is far from her subject, but she finds herself desperate to try and enlighten this kids.
"I don't believe that."
"No?"
He - James Cardnell, she places him as, checking her list - shakes his head. "Sex is intended for the procreation of children, nothing more. It doesn't control us. And, until we're ready to enter the sanctity of marriage, God wants us to remain pure. Which means that those feelings? Are temptation from the devil, nothing more. And we can beat that."
There's general agreement, a susurrus that slips through the classroom, uniting both sides of the debate. Kerryn takes a deep breath. "Does that mean women are tools of the devil, used to tempt you?" She's talking to the boys, but glances over the girls, a few of whom seem to be concentrating awfully hard on the top of their desk.
"Since the Garden of Eden." It's a prompt, perhaps predictable answer. Kerryn wants to hit something.
"Miss Edmonds..."
"Yes?"
"Why so many questions about this? You're a Christian, too."
"I just want to make you think, that's all. I want you to be sure that these are decisions you believe in, and not just things you are told to think."
Stone cold silence echoes throughout the classroom, twenty-six pairs of eyes fastened upon her.
"Of course we make our own decisions, Miss Edmonds. With Jesus. How could we say we truly believed if we didn't make our own decisions?"
"Of course. I apologise."
There's silence, after that, as though the wind has gone out of the discussion, and no one is willing to trust themselves to say anything. In the end, Kerryn assigns some reading, and the room remains silent for the rest of the class. She floats through the rest of the day, still working things over in her head, and wary of the students
Topic: Pure
Wordcount: 1,394
Notes: This is crap. Completely. However, it's been useful crap: I wrote this, hated it, and then realised that I was going about the whole story in the wrong way. And now, all of about four days later, I'm 10,000 words into what happens after this bit (and it involves vampires, so it must be cool!). So, eventually, this will get rewritten to be slightly less... um, crazy dumb and the rest, and who knows what'll happen with it. Point is, I haven't actually been able to face going back to fix it, yet.
But I'm posting it anyway, because I hate to spoil my record, and I really don't think I'll get something else written before Sunday.
Also of note is that I took my inspiration from here. It is frightening.
Six weeks into the school year, and Kerryn Edmonds still walks into the classroom terrified. She's studied four years for this, staying up late to get her assignments just right, and working weekends to keep herself in ramen and rice. It took her most of her last semester to find a job, and in the end, it meant lying about her beliefs in order to secure this position. It's hard being an atheist in a Christian High School in small-town bible belt America... especially when they'd probably fire your drowning-in-debt ass if they found out.
Four years of college never taught her how to understand the religious fervour that her students convey, nor how to relate to classes of teenagers who seem to disapprove of almost everything her wide-scoped literature appreciation courses try to offer. From Greek myth to Harry Potter, even parts of Shakespeare - though worse was her attempt to include the Bible, despite avoiding any suggestion that it was fiction.
In six weeks, it doesn't feel as though she's gotten anywhere, or taught anyone anything.
Monday morning, first period, is her twelfth-graders. Despite being closer to her own age - Kerryn is nearly twenty-three - they are in some ways the hardest class of all. Perhaps it's even because they're so close to her in age, because Kerryn doesn't feel authoritive over them, and she certainly can't relate her own twelfth-grade experiences.
The class files in, a group of modestly dressed individuals, the boys with their hair cut short and facial hair tidily shaved, the girls with their hair tied back. They talk and joke and laugh the same as any group of teenagers, but there's less swearing, and more often their discussions seem to slide back towards their religion. When the bell rings, they quiet - slowly, at first, then altogether, as she stands up to go to the blackboard. Her hands are shaking.
'Pride and Prejudice', she writes on the board. 'By Jane Austen.'
She turns to face the class, considering them. "Has everyone finished the book?" She set the due date for finishing it to today, and she finds that the class is usually quite prompt - except when they refuse to read something. She's fairly confident that maybe this one will be a success.
Hands raise. All of them, to Kerryn's relief. "Thoughts?" she asks, moving to lean up against the desk. The principal tends to disapprove of such a casual stance, but Kerryn finds her knees shake too much, otherwise, and the students don't complain.
"Miss Edmonds..." It's a tall, slim girl in the third row, three seats to the right. She's pretty, in a wholesome way, and popular, from what Kerryn can pick up.
Even so, she has to consult her roll - she hates making them sit in alphabetic order, but she'll never remember their names, otherwise - before she can respond: "Miss Delaney. What is it, Josephine?"
"You keep assigning us books with bad morals. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this."
Kerryn hesitates, perplexed, then shakes her head. "I'm not entirely sure what you're referring to, in this case, Josephine... Will you explain what you mean?"
"It's in all the books. Every one of them. Witchcraft, or heathenism, or disrespect for parents. And in this one-- Lydia clearly runs away to have sex with a man, and her family is far more concerned with their social standings than her wickedness and sin. She never gets punished. At least," she amends, after a moment, "Not that we see. I'm all for literature, Miss Edmonds, and I like you, but I'm concerned that we're being taught the wrong literature."
The class - the entire class, it seems - nod in agreement. Kerryn grabs hold of the desk to keep herself steady, as she attempts to come up with something to say in response. "So we should bypass the great works of literature because things happen within them that don't fit 100% with your beliefs?"
"I think," comes a voice from the other side of the room, "That maybe it is good for us to read some of these things, but it's dangerous, too. We have to be very careful not to lead ourselves into temptation." Her words are accompanied by a flurry of agreement, though from some quarters it seems hesitant, as though some aren't sure that even that much was appropriate.
"Lead you into temptation?" Kerryn asks, despite herself.
"Sex," responds one of the boys, promptly. "I know none of it has been all that... explicit, but it's still dangerous. We're still teenage boys." He's unembarrassed by this. "Maybe it's different, where you've been, Miss Edmonds, but a lot of us believe that we should avoid all sexual thoughts, as well as the act, until we're married."
Kerryn can't help it: she flushes. "And the mere mention of sex...?"
"It's not easy," says one of the other boys, quite placidly. "That's why we try and stick together - to make it easier for ourselves. So that we can all stay pure." He touches something on her wrist, which she can't quite see, looking proud.
Hastily, someone else breaks in, noting, "It's not that all sexual things are bad, or even that we should take away all temptation - because temptation makes us stronger. But... at school..."
Out of the corner of her eye, Kerryn can see several students looking disapproving, leaving an undercurrent of different ideas that she can't quite grasp. She catches Josephine's eye, the girl being one of the disapprovers, and raises her eyebrow: "You clearly think differently?"
"Temptation may make us stronger, but that doesn't mean that it's okay to read things that give us poor role models. It's not that I think we should be saved from temptation at school that I don't like these books - it's that these books are inappropriate for anywhere. They consider themselves so holy, with their masturbands, but it's not that simple."
"Masturbands?" By this stage, the entire lesson has been left behind, but Kerryn can't see any real way to bring it back on course. Besides which, she's honestly fascinated, finally discovering something more about how these teenagers thing.
Several of the boys raise their hands, showing a black plastic bracelet. "We can wear them as long as we don't..."
She nods. She gets the point. "You do realise that - biologically - your bodies are designed, at this age, to encourage those feelings?" Human biology is far from her subject, but she finds herself desperate to try and enlighten this kids.
"I don't believe that."
"No?"
He - James Cardnell, she places him as, checking her list - shakes his head. "Sex is intended for the procreation of children, nothing more. It doesn't control us. And, until we're ready to enter the sanctity of marriage, God wants us to remain pure. Which means that those feelings? Are temptation from the devil, nothing more. And we can beat that."
There's general agreement, a susurrus that slips through the classroom, uniting both sides of the debate. Kerryn takes a deep breath. "Does that mean women are tools of the devil, used to tempt you?" She's talking to the boys, but glances over the girls, a few of whom seem to be concentrating awfully hard on the top of their desk.
"Since the Garden of Eden." It's a prompt, perhaps predictable answer. Kerryn wants to hit something.
"Miss Edmonds..."
"Yes?"
"Why so many questions about this? You're a Christian, too."
"I just want to make you think, that's all. I want you to be sure that these are decisions you believe in, and not just things you are told to think."
Stone cold silence echoes throughout the classroom, twenty-six pairs of eyes fastened upon her.
"Of course we make our own decisions, Miss Edmonds. With Jesus. How could we say we truly believed if we didn't make our own decisions?"
"Of course. I apologise."
There's silence, after that, as though the wind has gone out of the discussion, and no one is willing to trust themselves to say anything. In the end, Kerryn assigns some reading, and the room remains silent for the rest of the class. She floats through the rest of the day, still working things over in her head, and wary of the students