DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Simpsons characters; however, I do own Dr. Smith and Mr. Barrington. If you would like to use them, just ask. :)
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"I remember that day with such clarity, so I suppose it really isn't all that random. It must mean something to me, right? And meaning is never random, is it?" I inquired before reciting my memory.
"Actually, sometimes the most important moments in our life don't seem to have such evident importance, and therefore, random times can be the most life-altering," Dr. Smith answered, pushing her descending glasses back to her eyes.
"Well, I don't know about life-altering, but that summer day definitely was important to me. It was actually the last official day of summer, September 23, 1962…
I had been in a new Catholic elementary school for about a month. My parents thought it would be good for me, but I never knew the reason why. I wasn't a troublesome kid; I wasn't some child that needed straightening out. But I guess they saw something in me that I didn't, because off to Catholic school I was shipped.
I was an immediate outcast. Everyone was already grouped into their little cliques, the most prominent being the preachy, goody-two-shoes. I was a good kid but not a saint, so instead of trying to fit in, I decided to keep to myself. I thought that plan would work best for me, but as usual, I thought wrong.
It was that September day in class when my theology teacher was lecturing on the reasons why people believed what they did about Catholicism. I thought we would just be taking notes on the evidence in the Bible or what not, but Mr. Barrington had something else in mind.
'Waylon?' he called out. I sat up in my seat, startled. I was rarely called on in class. No one ever seemed to notice me at all. I even heard a few of my peers whisper, 'Waylon? We have a Waylon in this class? Who's that?' Nevertheless, I cleared my throat and responded, 'Yes, Mr. Barrington?'
'Why do you believe in Catholicism?' he asked.
Everyone turned their heads to stare at me. I fumbled with my glasses, blushed, and stammered, 'I…I…'
'It's okay, Waylon. There are no wrong answers,' Mr. Barrington assured me.
I calmed down a bit. I took a deep breath and endeavored not to meet the staring eyes. 'I…don't,' I answered.
'You don't what?' asked my teacher.
To which I maybe wrongly replied, 'I don't believe in Catholicism.'
Many of my classmates gasped and looked at me with accusatory eyes. I looked down again. Mr. Barrington even look surprised, but not judgmental. 'That's okay, Waylon. Would you like to tell us why you don't believe in Catholicism, then?'
I really didn't want to, but I knew I had to. I reluctantly answered, 'I just think it's hypocritical.' I heard one of my peers ask, 'What's he saying about a hippo?'"
Dr. Smith and I chuckled a bit about this before she encouraged me to go on with my story. "So, then I explained, 'I mean, the Catholic church supposedly promotes love and acceptance of all people, yet they go and treat homosexuals and bisexuals like crap.' This was, well, I suppose the wrong thing to say to a classroom filled with thirty Catholic kids who, for the most part, had not learned to think for themselves yet. The class immediately erupted into gasps and gossip, and Mr. Barrington had to blow a whistle to get the class to settle down.
'Waylon, you're entitled to your opinion, but we don't use language like that at this school,' Mr. Barrington said sternly.
'Language like what? Homosexual and bisexual? Would you rather use 'fag' or 'queer'?' I asked angrily.
I provoked the class again. Mr. Barrington replied, 'I was referring to your usage of 'crap', Mr. Smithers, but you have officially crossed the line from free speech into offense. Detention starts today at 4. Now please go to the principal's office and explain to him why you are disturbing the learning process. Go!'
At first, I couldn't leave my seat. I was paralyzed with embarrassment and remorse and fear. But then I decided I had to get away from all those pairs of staring eyes and whispering mouths. So I went. And I went to detention after school. And I planned to sit there for an hour wishing I hadn't said what I said. But then someone changed my mind.
'Hey, Waylon,' came a familiar voice. I looked next to me and saw the most unlikely person to ever have detention sitting next to me. The person next to me was the golden child of Springfield, the top student in our class, the one who could recite every passage of the Bible on the first day of school, the boy whom every girl had a crush on, every teacher's pet, a joy to his parents, a friend to everyone, a pure saint. And yet, here he sat with me, the only other person in detention that day.
I felt my eyes grow wide at the sight of him. Then I realized my silence must have been rather rude. 'H-hey, Ned,' I replied. I smiled weakly. 'What are you doing here?'
Ned chuckled a bit and sighed. 'Well, sir, the same reason you are,' he told me.
'What are you talking about?' I asked.
He responded, 'I agreed with you. When you left for the principal's office, my friend Timothy called you a total closet case, and well, I kind of got a bit mad.'
I couldn't believe it. 'What did you do?' I asked.
'I slugged him one. Heh-heh,' Ned replied. 'Oh, yeah. My parents are really going to put me in anger management this time.'
'Wow,' I replied. 'You did that just to defend me? But why? We're not even really friends.'
Ned shrugged and grinned. 'Well, I am a devout Catholic. I believe in the Bible with passion. But I believe in the love and acceptance of all people side of the story.'
I blushed and said, 'Ned, thank you…I don't know what to say.'
'No thanks necessary. I was happy to do it. Let my parents put me in anger management. I don't regret what I did,' Ned said. 'And neither should you. You know, I don't know if what the kids in that class said were true about you or if you just have a radical spirit, but either way, you stick to it. You hear? Don't settle for someone else's beliefs.'
I guess that day wasn't really all that wonderful, but in a weird way, it was one of the most wonderful times of my childhood, because in that moment when Ned told me to stick to my beliefs, I…I just felt the greatest weight being lifted off my back. Someone believed in me. Someone would defend me. Someone cared about me. And no one ever had before." I shrugged and looked at Dr. Smith, who I expected would be scribbling away furiously at her notepad, and I was right. As she wrote, I looked at the clock.
"I guess time is up for today," I pointed out.
"Yes, you're right." And just as I was beginning to feel relieved, Dr. Smith added, "Next week, we will talk about the people who didn't care about you." I felt my palms begin to sweat. Next week, we would talk about my parents. Oh, God…
