Reinstating the Great Teacher into the classroom of society

After a long workday recently, I looked forward to an evening manicure. I’d learned not to book midday timeslots, since the manicurist and I get to jabbering and end up killing two hours. She saves me her latest spot, and we rap about everything – our grown kids, grandkids, recipes, "strategic" dressing, you name it. I don’t talk much about work, but she knows it’s Catholic.

This evening, she was waiting for me in the reception area. The shop was empty, and the look on her face was disturbing. I followed her to her station.

"Hey, uh, pick your color, and I have something I gotta ask you," she blurted. I handed her the jar, and she began hurriedly smearing off the old polish, the solvent burning through a new paper cut. A little less than relaxing.

She’d recently resigned from a 25-year position as a local school administrator, giving up tremendous pay, benefits, and security. She’s close to retirement, so I asked why.

"I can’t take what they’re doing in the schools anymore, especially to little kids," she began. "The stuff they’re teaching as normal, the sexual sickness." On top of that, her supervisor assaulted her verbally, almost daily. "I tried to hide my beliefs," she said, "or fighting with him could have been much worse." Her escalating anxiety had manifested in sleeplessness and stomach pain.

But now she worried about her grandchildren.

"My daughter sees nothing wrong with enrolling them in these schools. I cannot stand thinking of my beautiful grandkids being trashed. I’ve seen what our schools teach." She described the widespread depression among kids as well.
 
Time to speak.

"Don’t – under any circumstances – let them go to public school," I began. She wasn’t quite expecting that. I continued. "If you want to safeguard their innocence, don’t trust public school to do it. Your family must do that, along with an education that honors God. Period." Though not Catholic, she listened intently, nodding in tearful agreement.

The blood-red polish got knocked over, and she began cleaning up the mess on the table.

But the barn door was open. I kept going.

"You’re the family matriarch," I said, "and God wants to you to teach them that He’s the Best Friend they’ll ever have, and of His love and purpose for them. That purpose is not that they become sexualized at age five and lose their childhood." She nodded again.

I suggested she begin taking them to church and acquaint them with her trustworthy minister. "I’ll bet my daughter probably won’t go," she said.
 
"Invite the kids. Promise them a great breakfast. She’ll come around," I answered.

Regarding a planned family trip to Disney World she’d mentioned, I revealed a few more things. Her eyes froze. "You are kidding!"

"I wish I was kidding," I said, then suggested some Christian resources for further insight, including the Catholic League and others.
 
Then the big question came.

"What about all this transgender stuff, telling kids it’s an option?"

I told her what I tell our nieces and nephews when they ask, since many are in public school. "God says in the Bible that He created male and female. That means He created each person as He intends them to be. Even science attests to the fact that every cell in someone’s body indicates one’s biological sex, no matter how many interventions or surgeries one might undergo."

Now she was excited, almost emboldened. "I can’t wait to tell my daughter all these things!" she said.
 
I still get texts and email questions from her every few days. It was a different sort of appointment, but so worthwhile for us both.