It was the week before Christmas. A blanket of snow covered the playground of Liberty Elementary School. Its immaculate color had not yet been ruined, for no child had played in it. An unexpected snowfall the previous night had caused the school systems to be delayed. Now, near the end of this short school day, Liberty Elementary School was filled with children eagerly awaiting the bell which would send them to their snow-filled yards.

Down the long hallway of classrooms, huddled away, was Miss Lisa Nicole's fifth grade class. Her students were quiet and every head was filled with complicated, tricky division problems. The mundane hum of busy pencils was interrupted only with the sound of the teacher's fingers. Her eyes were fixed on her desk, though her mind was miles away. Every now and then she scanned her classroom without looking at what she was seeing. She lowered her eyebrows one last time and firmly ended the dispute going on her head.

"Children, put your math books away." She spoke quickly and then began looking through her desk.

"Is math class over?," a little voice asked.

"Yes, Timmy," the teacher opened another drawer. "It is for today."

"Mrs. Niiiiicole (the "i" was obnoxiously dragged like a squealing tire), it isn't 2:45 yet!"

"Thank you, Theodore," she responded without looking up, "But I have a watch."

"Maybe you should use it," he muttered after his math book. Book after book was slid into each desk. When the last sounds of the thudding books had faded away and the teacher had risen from her chair, all the children sat up with attention. They were quite curious. What were they going to do for the next forty-five minutes of school. Would they go outside, play a game, or did Miss Nicole have a "pop" test. Hundreds of possibilities ran through the young minds while indecision reigned in the teacher's.

"Okay," she looked slowly around the classroom. Her eyes caught the mess in the back.

"Whose juice box is that on the floor? Why is that coat on the table back there? Who left their string in that corner?" A muddle of children's voices were heard and several seats became empty as the guilty items were cleared away.

"Nicholas, please pick up your Santa Claus lunch box." Miss Nicole, having thought a second, added "why did you even bring it in anyway, today was a half day."

"No, we had lunch." A few of the children reminded her.

"Oh, yeah" the teacher rubbed her forehead. "I guess we did."

"Um," she looked at her watch, "why don't you guys take five minutes to clean up around your desks a bit." She sat down and noticed that they were slow to obey her command.

"I mean it, you guys. Go on!" There was temporary chaos in the classroom. As her students whizzed around their desks, Miss Nicole sat deep in thought. She had five minutes to make up her mind.

It's not that serious, she said to herself. No one is going to care. It'll be fine.

Shortly, everyone was back in their seats and awaiting Miss Nicole's decision.

"Okay you guys," she faced their inquisitive gaze. "I'm going to spend the next forty-five minutes, approximately", she glanced at Theodore Baker, "talking to you all about Christmas."

Their surprised expressions were not unexpected. It was a subject that all spoke of without talking about it. But she did not let their reaction intimidate her. She had already done half the damage by suggesting the topic. Although she knew, as well as they, that the damage lay in what direction she would take the subject. She sat down and with a resolute smile began her conversation.

"As you all know, this next Sunday is Christmas. It is a day celebrated nearly all over the world. As many of you also know, its origins are Catholic, dating back to the first Christmas, about 2,000 years ago. And even though many people don't even believe in it, they will still, for societal reasons, celebrate this day the way society dictates."

"Although most of you are Catholic or Protestant, I know that some of you are neither. In the past, you children have learned about a number of different religions as part of your cultural studies. Since more than one out of every five persons in the whole world is Catholic and there are Catholics in every race and nation, the topic of Christmas is most certainly at least as valid to study for cultural reasons as religions that are limited to specific geographical areas or much smaller numbers!" The logic of her words rang through with such an obvious truth, how could anyone even attempt to deny it? The strength of that truth gave her the courage to continue. There was no turning back now ....

Miss Nicole then, for those who were unfamiliar with the story, retold and described the first Christmas. She told them briefly about the Annunciation, when the Archangel Gabriel appeared to Mary of Nazareth and asked if she would be the Mother of God. Several of the kids were shocked at the extraordinary question and then the awesome title bestowed upon Mary.

"And rightfully so," Miss Nicole said. No other creature ever had or will receive such a well-earned honor or live such an incredible and yet sorrowful life as Mary did.

Miss Nicole went on to explain about the census that took place after Mary had married St. Joseph. What few people think about is the timing of the census. It was, for Joseph and Mary, really bad. The difficult journey that lay ahead of them to Bethlehem was even harder because Mary was pregnant and due to give birth.

"If I told you a story," Miss Nicole said, "about a baseball game that got rained out, so the pitcher wound up going out to eat... somewhere," she gestured with a wave of her hand, "and there, he met the woman that he would grow to love and then marry, you probably wouldn't think about how disappointed the pitcher initially was about the baseball game being rained out. That's because you're getting the story backwards. The pitcher didn't know about the rain, until he had looked forward to, prepared and planned for the ball game. Now of course, the rain was wonderful, because it was the instrument God used to lead him to his future wife. But, like most of God's blessings, he didn't recognize or appreciate it at the time. And I should think, neither would you. Now he could have and maybe he did, maybe you would. God didn't let him know about the rain, until after he was excited about the game, so that the pitcher could be rewarded for not complaining. If he didn't care because he already knew, then he wouldn't get a reward." Her little morality lesson wasn't going over too well or getting that far with the kids. She turned back to her original point.

"It's kind of the same thing when we view the story of Christmas. We don't care about the hard inconvenience and disappointment it was for Mary and Joseph to have their Child born away from home. We don't care, because we already know the end of the story.

So, they started this journey, all the while trusting in God, without a word of complaint for the trouble in store for them. I mean," the teacher began to reminisce, "I remember when my mom was nine months pregnant with my younger brother Johnny. She would gently walk around, and good luck getting her to ride an animal. Not like the thought occurred to us. She was so delicate, especially near the birthdate. She had to walk slowly and the slightest movement against her had its impact. And Joseph and Mary's troubles weren't limited to Mary being jostled about by a donkey's clumsy footing while she was pregnant.

"Let me give you another analogy," Miss Nicole hoisted herself onto her desk.

"What's an analogy?" some kid asked.

"An analogy is a type of story which is similar to what is trying to be explained. But it is told in a way that is more simple and familiar, to help you better understand the original point. For instance, Jesus told parables to explain His sermons, because He knew that it would be easier for most people to relate to, and understand, them. So, since you kids probably don't know what it's like to live in Israel 2,000 years ago, I will try to use an analogy that is similar enough to give you the point, but modern enough, so that you'll understand it, as if you'd experienced it yourself.

Because, in reality Mary wasn't that much older than you guys. For example," the teacher pointed towards one of her students, "Miss Williams, how old are you?"

"Eleven," was the shy response.

"See," the speaker explained, "Mary was only four years older than Jenny is. Maggie, don't you have an older sister in eighth grade?"

"Yeah."

"Mary was about your sister's age when all this happened to her."

"Whoa!" Maggie was impressed.

"Okay," she continued, "the point I was going to make was about how Mary and Joseph didn't know where they were going to stay. Pretend that, without warning, the government sent you a notice that you had to travel to the town where your father was born and grew up. And you had to get there within a week and your mother was nine months pregnant and ready to give birth at any time. Now, you have to travel there without a car and without phoning ahead to make reservations. They couldn't because, 2,000 years ago, there was no electricity.

Imagine you were in their place, traveling slowly because your mother couldn't push herself too hard or else she would have her baby along the way. All the while, your family is hoping you can find a place to spend the night when you get there. And then, after that, you don't. If you wanted to go to a small town, where many people were gathering for some big sports event, but you didn't reserve a hotel room ahead of time, you can see how you probably wouldn't be able to get one. Bethlehem was a very small town, more like a village and many other people were traveling to there because of the government-ordered census. Most other people were able to travel faster than the Holy Family because their situation was less delicate, and many of them probably lived closer so they didn't have as far to travel.

So Joseph and Mary get there very late, it's cold and Joseph can't find a place for them to stay. They don't just need to sleep, but Mary has to have a baby. The fact that Mary was pregnant, was an extra requirement that most of the inns probably did not want to deal with. So they're left alone in the dark, and as you all know, their only refuge was a stable, which was really mostly just a cave used to keep animals."

At this point, most of the children started to pick up and recognize certain parts of the story. The cold, dark stable, the animals, the shepherds, were almost familiar to many of them. Miss Nicole explained to them how anticipated this birth was. A star appeared in the sky to announce it.

"I know the stars look like a mess up there," she smiled, " but in those days, people studied them and knew almost every single one." She explained how the stars were so well known, that three kings actually left their kingdoms to follow this new star, which was, they discovered, the fulfillment of a prophecy. We also know that the Star was miraculous. It could be seen by day as well as by night, and it moved as it led The Three Kings to the place where the Great King was about to be born." Miss Nicole's students also found out that it wasn't on Christmas day either, when the three kings arrived to adore the Infant King of all Kings. It was on the day celebrated as the Epiphany when Jesus received His expensive gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh from His royal visitors.

When the young teacher finished discussing the basic details of the first Christmas, she started to explain its significance. That day, the greatest in the entire history of world, had been prophesied thousands of years before, and generation after generation had anticipated, watched and longed for that long-awaited birth. Holy Angels came and announced it's arrival to poor shepherds. The heavens had a miraculous, fiery visitor, and three great, powerful pagan kings, joined together to be amoung the first to pay homage to a Babe much greater than themselves.

"They knew that, and they were kings." Miss Nicole went on, "We're not royalty and we don't get it." Her point was not quite understood.

"Well, I mean if great important kings could endure the time, expense and hardship it took to be able to adore a newborn Infant, they must have believed that this Baby was pretty special. It wasn't just another king being born. Princes were born all the time, and yet no star heralded their birth, much less led anyone to their birthplace. How many other stories are there of kings traveling across many lands to pay homage to a new-born king? King Herod, if you kids remember, was none-too-thrilled with this new King. He was, in his eyes, a threat to his throne. Kings don't go to the trouble those three went to for another king, that is just their equal and no better than them.

"So, if kings knew that the meaning of the birth of this Baby was more important than themselves, then how can we, who are not kings, think that it is less than ourselves?"

The kids then understood what she was saying. But not all of them agreed. They protested that they didn't think Christmas wasn't important.

"But," Miss Nicole objected, "what makes it so important to you?"

The children listened as their teacher began to describe all the different ways that people have forgotten, disregarded and thought less of Christ and His birth.

"How many people do you think even give a moment's thought as to the real meaning of Christmas? Do you think they meditate on His birth when they're shopping in the stores, opening their gifts, or partying with their friends? Hardly any gifts given at Christmas have anything to do with Christ. Why should people even want to remember Him? Christmas has become, at its best, a universal party where everyone tries to be nice and get enough things for everyone. And, at its worst, a self-centered opportunity to get as much stuff as you possibly can."

"But," one of her students interrupted, "I have some friends who only get presents to the degree that they've been good, so isn't that a good motivation to behave themselves and therefore a good thing?"

"Besides, what's wrong with being nice to other people?" another one chimed in.

The young teacher hopped off her desk and began walking back to her chair. "There's nothing wrong with being nice to people. But, then again," she turned towards the girl who had asked, "aren't you supposed to be nice to people all year round? Why single it out to once a year around Christmas? And as far as a good motivation to behave yourself, John," she sat down in her chair "I think another word for that is bribing. You're supposed to do.... what you're supposed to do, and you shouldn't need a treat to get you to do it."

She tried to explain to them that as wonderful as being nice and generous at Christmastime was, we should do that all the time, and at Christmas, think about Jesus who "invented" generosity. And most people, if they're honest, will admit that the part of Christmas they look forward to is the getting, not the giving. Instead of focusing on what Christmas is about, people have come up with all sorts of substitute figures to be the center of Christmas and in the meantime, forcefully shove the Infant Jesus out of the picture. Miss Nicole went to name a few of the obvious, like; Father Christmas, Frosty the snowman, and Santa Claus.

"That's assuming they even call it 'Christmas' anymore." The teacher shrugged her shoulders. "How many people send out 'Christmas cards' and that don't even say 'Merry Christmas', much less have anything to do with it. Most people nowadays will greet you with a 'Happy Holidays,' or 'Season's greetings.' They're so afraid of offending everyone except, of course, Jesus Christ!"

"You, Jenny," she nodded towards her student, "Did anyone ever wish you a "Happy Holidays!" at Thanksgiving, or Columbus Day?" The little girl shook her head.

"Joe, did you get a "Season's greetings" card last summer?" A few of the children giggled at the idea. Their teacher smiled too.

"I'm serious, though." She defended herself, "aren't those holidays and isn't summer a legitimate season?"

Several of the kids nodded in affirmation.

The young woman continued. "Why degrade a Christmas greeting to something as trivial and common as a holiday or season? Why not call it what it is and recognize what it's about? Why work so hard to fill the event with characters, objectives and images that have nothing to do with it? Most every song that is played during the Christmas season has little or nothing to do with Christmas - especially most songs that are considered Christmas 'carols'! In fact the most popular 'carol' in the United States is called 'White Christmas" and has absolutely nothing at all to do with Christmas. If you don't believe me, find the lyrics and read them. Those lyrics never mention Jesus or the true meaning and purpose of Christmas. It could be about a pagan winter holiday, or pretty much anything else you want to apply it to. But the widespread popularity of this song shows you the success that 'secularizing' Christmas has had."

"What does 'secularizing' mean?"

"To remove every religious and spiritual meaning from something, so that all that remains is 'secular' - worldly."

"Okay, let me give you another analogy." The young teacher sat up straight and thoughtfully cocked her head to the side. Her dark eyes rolled about the classroom, deep in thought, until they fell upon a scrawny lad in the front row.

"Patrick," she asked the young boy, "don't you have a birthday in a week?"

"Yeah," he said proudly, "I'm gonna be twelve on December 30th. Uhhh, next Friday."

"Okay," Miss Nicole continued, "Imagine that you have invited all your best friends to your birthday party next week. Now they show up and they've brought a lot of gifts and they've brought a clown, no on second a thought, a magician. They've brought along a magician. 'So?', you might think, 'What's wrong with a magician? They're nice and they're a lot of fun.' But next thing you know, the magician is playing around with your friends and giving them treats through his "magic". They're all excited about him and the treats, so much so, that now they're not paying any attention to you. And the gifts they'd brought for you, they start giving to each other. They sing lots of songs but none of them have anything to do with you or your birthday. Then they all leave your house, without speaking to you at all, but instead are crowding around the magician, thanking him and making arrangements for your birthday party next year."

Her point had been made, and many of the students were thinking about her comparison. A few, however were determined to find logical contradictions.

"So," Theodore asked, "instead of giving a remote-controlled jeep to my little brother, I should give it to Jesus instead?" His tone and his question caused a few of his classmates to chuckle at the thought.

"Mr. Baker," the teacher said impassively, "If your friends went to your birthday party, ignored you and instead, exchanged pretty baby dolls with each other, would you demand one for your birthday?" The acclamation her question received came in peals laughter from almost every student in the classroom. Mr. Baker was silent, but not subdued.

"There is nothing wrong with exchanging some gifts with one another but the Christmas season lasts from Christmas Day until the Epiphany, about 12 days later. Why not open gifts on the Epiphany? That's when Jesus received His. People have done that. Or at least spread it out over the 12 days of the Season. People have also done this in the past. The trouble is that, for most people, Christmas is merely an opportunity to get a paid holiday from work, get and give way too many presents, listen to songs and watch shows on tv that have nothing to do with Christmas and instead destroy its profound, True Meaning....." Lisa let the depth of her points settle slowly into the children - at least the few that were still listening.

"... and just because Jesus doesn't receive any physical gifts from us," she told the children, "doesn't mean He does not want, or deserve, to be the center of attention and the main recipient of the love and joy that Christmas inspires in almost everyone. It is, after all, His Birthday, not Father Christmas', Frosty the Snowman's or Santa Claus'!"

Miss Nicole returned to her point: "Certain people have, over the last couple hundred years, worked hard to change the way folks prepare for, and celebrate, Christmas because they don't want anyone to think about Jesus. So they have put a lot secular stuff into it to encourage people to think of themselves, having fun, and getting and giving presents at Christmas instead of thinking of Jesus Christ - Who He is and why He was born! In order to achieve this goal, they made the bold and arrogant move of shoving Christ out of Christmas!"

Suddenly, the bell sounded and an electronically muffled voice came booming over the intercom announcing the end of school.

"Okay," the young teacher glanced at her watch. "I guess our time is up for today. I wanted to give you all something though, before you had to leave." She snatched up a little box on her desk; the item which had, before her talk, been the object of her search.

"Jenny, would you please help me with these." A braided head came bobbing up the aisle towards the teacher's desk. Miss Nicole opened the box and took out all the holycards and gave them to the little girl to pass around the classroom.

"What Jenny is giving each of you," the woman explained, "is a holycard of what we've been talking about. It's an artistic rendition of the first Christmas. If any of you do not want it that is fine."

"What's this on the back," Nicholas asked, after surveying the gift.

"It's a 'note from you to Jesus'," the teacher explained. "It's kind of like a 'birthday gift' to Him on His birthday."

Some of the children sat reading the back, while others, after seeing it, tucked it away and began packing up their schoolbooks. As the students got ready to leave for the day, the teacher reminded them of the things they needed to bring home and the assignments that were due.

Miss Nicole sat back down and started collecting her own things. She tidied up her desk, sticking most of the papers into her left hand drawers. She turned back to the right to grab her purse on the floor. Leaning over quickly, she discovered by her purse a pair of dress shoes which peaked out beneath a long jean skirt. Miss Nicole looked up into the owner's dark brown eyes.

"Yes, Jenny?," she asked her student.

"Um, I didn't get a holycard," was the quiet response.

"You didn't?" The teacher sat back in dismay. "I was sure I got enough for everyone. Gee, that's odd. Here," She reached into her purse and pulled out an old black prayer book. As she did, a light card slipped from between the yellow-tainted pages and onto the floor. Miss Nicole reached down, grabbed it and reverently kissed it for the fall.

"God must want you to have this one." She handed the holycard to Jenny. The little girl was visibly grateful and readily took the card. She looked at it and saw that it was not like the others her fellow students had received. Theirs had the Madonna and Child sitting before a group of shepherds, kneeling in adoration. Hers on the other hand had the Holy Family before anyone had arrived. In the foreground a grown man held the newborn infant in his strong arms. The child was asleep, sheltered from the bitter cold, beneath his father's cloak. The smile on His divine face showed the sweet serenity He felt, protected from every danger in the world. Behind them, Our Lady sat on her legs watching them tenderly.

"Saint Joseph?" Jenny asked.

"Yeah. That's one of my favorite pictures of him." When Jenny turned the card over, her teacher explained to her that that prayer to St. Joseph was over 1900 years old.

" 'It's never been known to fail' ?" Jenny read on the bottom.

"Anything good for us, asked for with Faith, has never been known to fail" Miss Nicole explained.

"Oh," Jenny sighed and a veil was briefly lifted to reveal an agitated young soul. Before Miss Nicole could venture to inquire about the sudden change, it vanished as quickly as it had come. Jenny beamed back at her teacher.

"Thank you, Miss Nicole." She stuck the holycard into her skirt pocket. "I think it's nicer than the others'."

"So do I," Miss Nicole smiled. She was glad it all worked out the way it did.

"Hey." She lifted her box of papers. "Could you help me carry my stuff out to my car?"

"Sure. I'll go get my back pack." Jenny rushed back to her desk. Soon, the teacher and student were walking side by side down the long hallway. After seeing Jenny get onto her bus, Miss Nicole shut her car door and put the car in gear. As she pulled out of the snow-cleared parking lot, she noticed a white dusting of snow was just beginning to cover the school grounds.

Early the next morning, Liberty Elementary School was comparatively quiet, as the students had not yet arrived. The teachers were about, though, preparing for the day ahead. The empty hallways echoed with their quick footsteps. In the fifth grade classroom, Miss Lisa Nicole sat at her desk, grading last week's math tests. Her silent solitude was interrupted by an abrupt rap on her door.

"Hey, Lisa," the third grade teacher poked her brunette head into Lisa's classroom.

"Oh hi, Stacy. " She looked up briefly and recognized her friend.

"Have a moment to spare?" Stacy asked.

"Sure, I can chat while I'm grading." She paused, looking at a test. "You know James always puts his name on the wrong line!" She smiled wearily and corrected his frequent mistake.

"Yeah, you're lucky if you can read my kids' names." There was what seemed to be a long silence, when finally Stacy spoke.

"Heard about what happened."

Lisa mistook the statement for a question.

"What happened?," she said lightly.

"Oh come on, Lisa," Stacy thought she was kidding. "It's all over the school."

"What is?" the young teacher looked up from her work.

"Oh man," Stacy rolled her blue eyes. "At least when most people goof, they're smart enough to know it."

"Stacy, come on, stop playing with me. I'm serious, what happened!" The words came out hurriedly and they whispered of anxiety, but not of guilt.

Stacy looked right in her face. "Your little "Christmas talk" didn't go over too well."

"Oh that." Lisa headed back to work. She didn't care what people thought.

" 'Oh that.' ?" Stacy exclaimed. "Girl, we're not talking about some kid spreading his moody stories. You trashed every rule in the book! What were you thinking?"

"This Sunday happens to be Christmas, so I talked about it. What's so evil about that?" She 'X'ed out another erroneous answer.

"You weren't just talking about it. First of all, you were condemning Christmas."

"I was not!" Lisa stopped writing. "Who in the world told you that?"

"It's all over the place, Lisa. Everyone's talking about it. You blasted Rudolph, 'Jingle Bells', and little elves!" Stacy was overwhelmed by the last one. "What is your problem, Lisa? I don't understand how anyone can be so cruel and crabby enough to.. to.." She threw her hands in the air in search for a word. "..To take someone glorious, heroic, and wonderful in a child's eye and trash him up to be something unrecognizable."

"I agree," Lisa nodded. "But that's exactly what Catholics have permitted the world to do to Jesus on His birthday."

Stacy tried to object, but Lisa raised her hand as if holding it off.

"No! Do you want to know what is really horrible, cruel and abusive to children? You talk about unrecognizable! I'll tell you what's unrecognizable. Do you have any idea what the first Christmas was?"

"Lisa," Stacy began in reprimanding tone.

"No, Stacy, I mean it. You never would have guessed from the way people celebrate it nowadays that Christmas is the day we honor for being the birthdate of God-made-man!" Her emphasized tone showed the passion within her.

The third grade teacher simply placed her hands on her hips. She had reluctantly listened to her friend carry on. She looked her squarely in the eyes and acted as though she hadn't heard a word.

"Stacy, you know that I am right. And how many Catholics care? You don't, and you are a Roman Catholic, too!"

Stacy quickly looked over her shoulder fearfully to see if anyone had heard her. "Keep your voice down! The reason why I came to talk to you in the first place was to warn you. But - ..." she looked again to see if anyone might have heard Lisa.

"Warn me?" Lisa skeptically raised a brow. "About what?"

Stacy sighed and leaned back - prepared to give a long and prepared speech.

"Well," she said, "I don't know how anyone as sensible as you could think that something as atrocious as your behavior yesterday would go by unnoticed. Almost everyone I've talked to said-"

"Stacy," Lisa interrupted sharply. Her voice betrayed her anxiety. "What warning?"

"I'm shocked that you don't know, or at least have an idea." A look from Lisa cut her introduction short. With a grim face, she let loose the merciless words.

"You're going to be fired."

Lisa's face fell. So did her heart. She felt as though large cruel chains were twisting themselves around her soul and dragging her relentlessly down with them. Her eyes glazed over and she turned towards her desk.

"They're saying Friday is your last day," she heard Stacy's cold voice say. It echoed through her mind mechanically. Lisa grasped her head with her trembling hands. She hadn't expected the reaction to be this severe. Hundreds of thoughts came rushing into her mind. She had just purchased a used car and signed the lease for her apartment. So many other things depended on this job. A sick feeling came into her stomach as she realized she wouldn't be able to pay for all of them. And with it came a cold fear which swept through all her veins. She looked ahead towards her future, and it loomed ominously in the dark distance like a foreboding cliff; off of which, she felt she was being dragged.

"Are you serious?" was all Lisa could say.

"Where do you think we are? This is a public school! You know about separation of Church and state! I'm shocked that you can even ask!" Stacy folded her arms in disgust.

"So am I," Lisa said dully. She sighed heavily and then looked towards her 'friend'.

"I talked about Christmas," she said slowly, "and they're firing me. I said Whose birthday it was. How do you think the school would feel if on George Washington's birthday I talked about William Shakespeare? How do you think I'd feel," her voice began to rise, " if on Columbus Day I talked about Christopher Columbus, and then soon afterwards was promptly and thoroughly fired? Do you see the contradiction here? What makes talking about Christ so evil? Or the Blessed Virgin Mary? Or the Saints, like Saint Joseph? They are true heroes, worthy of study, admiration and imitation. Why can we talk about almost anything, anyone and any religion and get a standing ovation, but then as soon as Catholicism becomes the topic, you're thrown out of the system? We teach these kids about every other religion, in one way or another, all under the guise of 'multiculturalism'. And the more pagan the religion, the more we are encouraged to explain it in detail."

"Okay, girl, I'm sorry about your job." Stacy said with little emotion. " I know it meant a lot to you."

Lisa sighed and said softly, "You don't know the half of it."

"I don't make the rules, I just have sense enough to live by them." Stacy defended herself.

"You can choose the rules you live by, Stacy. And you'll become whatever they are." She put her elbows on her desk and added, "I think my points are good ones. This system is filled with hypocrisy and lies ..." Lisa's voice trailed off as she glanced at her papers trying to distract herself from the full, brutal reality that she was enduring because she wanted to give a little equal time to the one man Who ever lived that had the right to be worshipped as God. Examining the papers, she suddenly smiled, "Lucy drew her parrot again."

"Enjoy yourself," Stacy said sincerely. "They're the last tests you'll be grading." With that, she left the forlorn teacher to herself. Lisa heard Stacy mutter as she left, "You've failed your own."

The door slammed shut and Lisa shook involuntarily. She looked at the rows and rows of empty desks, all facing her own.

"They're firing me!" she told them. Her voice was dead. The fire in her heart had been smothered and the passion was gone. "They're firing me ..." The voice was not her own and its dead tones echoed through the solitary classroom, swallowing her up.....