The Preacher
I’m a school nurse, but I’m a preacher, too. It is my duty to inform you of good health practice as it is my duty to inform you of the good news of the Lord.
They spoke in front of the whole staff. The pronouncement of their heavenly credentials, from the outset, received great applause. The occasion was another COVID-19 advisory, after all—spirits were low and in need of lifting.
But one could ask: if I am sick, how do I know your guidance comes from science first, and not the Lord?
The Servant
I’m an administrator, but I’m a servant too, sent here to serve His purpose. Through my dedicated instruction and inspection of you, I serve His mission.
They interrupted a department meeting because they saw the confusion on our faces. But bringing Him into a conversation about new lesson plans did little in terms of clarity. They said they were sent by God, that they’ve seen the promised land where this type of instruction works.
But one could ask: how do we know you’re teaching us because you have confidence in the plan, and not just because He sent you here?
The Savior
I’m a teacher but I’m a savior too, hoping to show you the path to salvation. Only some will He save, and so I hope you’ll join us and follow Him.
Two attempts at conversion, one at the beginning of the school year and one at the end. Two very long conversations. They said I did great work, but that there’s more needed for salvation. They said there are lots of great people in the world, but only some will be saved from the inferno.
But one could ask: how do we know you’re trying to actually educate the kids, not just trying to save them from what you see as eternal damnation?
***
These three vignettes are based on real people and situations that I encountered while working in public education in the United States. First and foremost, I respect and admire these people detailed—they work in education, after all. But some parts of one’s identity are best left at home or in the pews. To infuse a public school setting with a religious tone is to raise problems, questions, and problematic questions. The situation is made more, not less, complicated by the fact that these same people show up to work every day and do their jobs well. So what if they love Jesus a little too much? one might ask.
As it turns out, at least when we’re talking about working in public education, it’s not so much whether you follow a god, it’s how and when.
***
“I wake up every morning and answer His call.”
The most problematic question that arises from bringing religion into the public school setting is the one aimed directly at one’s intentions: “Ok, but are you here for the right reasons?” You may tell me about the glory of following your god, and it may sound quite glorious indeed, but we’re in school now, so are you here to be an educator or are you here to follow your god? Tell me about the glory of your student’s progress reports.
It’s not comfortable to be faced with this question, to say it or hear it. But when the public school setting becomes a venue for religious intentions, then other intentions are put into question—where do they rank?
Let us suppose we have an educator who has three reasons to come to school: to educate and guide the youth, to serve the community, and to serve their god. Besides the capitalism-imposed motivations for attaining a job, like making a salary and having healthcare, these are the three most important reasons this educator would cite if they were asked, “Why do you come to school every day?”
I argue that in any public education system where this educator would employ their trade, it is vital where these motivations rank in their heart and mind. This means that if I were potentially hiring this educator in my public school, I would want to ensure that their primary dedications are to the students and the community before any dedication to any deity. As long as their priorities are in order, it would not likely matter to me what other motivations they would have for being a teacher.
For example, as long as this educator has (1) a dedication to the students and (2) a dedication to the community, I could care less whether they have (3) a further dedication to a god or (4) a goal of developing a school soccer team or (5) a keen interest in having every summer off for the rest of their lives.
If I asked this educator, “Why do you want to come work at this school?” and they replied with some variation of, “I get up every morning with a mission to serve my Lord,” as I’ve heard some people say, that could be a problem. It is not necessarily a problem, as I’ll explain, but I’ll first explain why it’s problematic.
First, what if they do have the above dedications (1) and (2), but their dedication to their Lord is more important to them? What if, for example, (1) and (2) requires them to teach the science of evolution but their dedication to (3) is more important, so they choose to teach a version of their religious creationism? This is an example of how religious motivations might actually do a disservice to students and the community.
Second, if this educator was always so quick to infuse their religious identity into the public school setting, anything they say in their capacity as teachers could be put into question. For example, if this teacher was to do a lesson on state laws, some students would be right to wonder, “Is this actually a state law or is this a religious custom?”
Third, if this educator has their motivations in the order of (3), (2), (1) or (3), (1), (2), then any problem they could have with their relationship to (3) could cause a detrimental domino effect on the rest. For example, if this educator suddenly felt they were living in a way that their god disapproved of, it might cause them to do something—from changing their habits to quitting their job completely—that could negatively affect motivations (1) and (2). If their relationship with their god were most important, then the nature of that relationship could guide their behavior more than their relationship to the school community.
Why it’s not necessarily a bad thing to be an educator and a religious person
What if we compare two public school educators, one with motivations (1) and (2) and one with motivations (1), (2) and (3)? The first educator is like many: they feel a duty to the youth and to the community and they wish to be a guiding light and a steward to both. The second educator is also like many, except they have an added goal to please their deity of choice. If I am to hire one of these educators, does one have an obvious advantage over the other?
I think the answer is not necessarily. If a potential hire clearly demonstrates that (1) and (2) are a priority, but they also say they want to teach because (3) “it would please The Force”, I might have some questions about their extracurricular activities, but I would not discriminate in the hiring process simply because they have an added religious motivation. I would, however, ask them to keep mention of The Force to a minimum while in school, for the reasons given above.
Having both a dedication to education and a dedication to a god, therefore, is not necessarily problematic, as long as one’s priorities are in order. The Biology teacher can be as dogmatic and traditionalist as they’d like on the weekends, but if during the week they perform their primary duty to society and teach the science curriculum well, the public school is just as lucky to have them.
I’ve found teachers who have an added dedication to religion to be just as pleasant, respectful, and knowledgeable as the rest, and so I have no reason or right to judge their godly identity. It is when this identity is brought into the public school and highlighted in a certain way that it becomes an almost uncomfortable open question.
In defense of civic spirituality, and some clear lines
If we were to more clearly spell out the motivations listed above, then (1) would be “a dedication to teaching, guiding, advising, and assisting the students of the community, and (2) would be “a dedication to serving all school members and their families through school-community partnership”. Of these, I would say they are the most, if not two of the most important intentions that a public school educator should possess.
These reasons could be called a type of civic spirituality. Though I would not describe myself as a spiritual person, I would say that the spirit of being an educator means to fulfill (1) and (2). I would also say that, similar to a religious calling, the calling of “the people” is sufficient for many to become teachers. They, like I, feel destined to serve a cause greater than themselves. Ideals and concepts like intelligence, compassion, and respect have a civic aura to them within the walls of public schools—we use these, cultivate them within ourselves and others, to serve the people of our community and our country.
I argue that there should be clear lines between civic spirituality and religious spirituality. Though my naming suggestion does not help here, I believe that, to be a public school educator, there are dedications (1) and (2), and then there is everything else. If a potential teacher has demonstrated (1) and (2), they could have an infinite number of additional personal reasons to become a teacher that I would have little to no business judging them on. If reason number (3) were “I want to be a teacher so that I have access to students’ personal data,” I would seriously question their dedication to (1) and (2). But if reason (3) were “I want to be a teacher so that I can make my congregation proud,” then there’s less to be concerned about. As long as (1) and (2) are there, primary in one’s intentions, and at a distance from any religious dedication, then they have clearly defined civic and religious spirituality.
Reasons (1) and (2) are both necessary and sufficient for public education. This is because, when we’re talking about the public school system, we must ensure that knowledge and teaching comes from science and study and aims to serve the people. We must ensure that service comes from a desire to help people first. If we are all we have, if just in case none of the millions of gods exist to help shepherd us into the uncertain future, we should look after each other first, in the name of humankind.
***
Jesus said, “The greatest among you will be your servant.” If I am a servant of the people, I share in this greatness.
Indeed you do.
Ma(’)s Espacio 