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Authors: Rich Merritt
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information was never shared with me, and I was left to think that I had somehow deserved the paddlings in kindergarten. Ever since then I’ve often had vivid thoughts of Mrs. Hand juxtaposed with Miss Kline. Certainly Mrs. Hand instilled emotional damage to her students. But the lessons taught by the gentle-faced Miss Kline were harmful in their own way although she, of course, didn’t mean them to be. It was overwhelming for a five-year-old to think that there is some God or Jesus up there looking down on him and that this Person actually cares whether he lies about the location of his canister of lead.
One of the major differences between Bob Jones University and other schools was the intensity of the religious beliefs and training. Even when you were just starting, religion was ingrained in every class. There was no separation at all.
Most of our textbooks were written by the Bob Jones University Printing Press. Every chapter, even in math, was somehow related to God. Especially science. Evolution, for example. Of course the idea of evolution being a legitimate science was never taught. Instead we were taught everything that was possibly wrong with the theory of evolution. We were made to believe that creation was the only way.
History was all relative to what’s in the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. But even our American history had a very slanted version to it. Psychology also had a very religion-based teaching. I took some psychology classes at Bob Jones and I didn’t learn a damn thing about psychology. Years later, when I started therapy I felt, Oh, this is what psychology is! The unconscious. I never heard of the unconscious. I took three psychology classes at Bob Jones and I never heard of the unconscious.
In the early classes I remember that the Old Testament was our history book for that particular period of history. Since then I’ve done a lot of reading on my own and I’ve found out that every Old Testament King of Israel would have the Old Testament completely rewritten to suit his political need. Yet we use this King James Version as “this is what happened in history” type of thing.
In the second grade I met a classmate who had the same name as the school. His great-grandfather had founded Bob Jones University, his grandfather was the former president and current chancellor, and his father was president. Like everyone else, I was extremely impressed with my classmate, Bob Jones IV—coming from the family of the school’s founder gave him a built-in popularity and an automatic aura of esteem. We were both bright, over-achievers, and I viewed him as something of a rival. Yet, he always seemed to be able to one-up me. My first conversation with him had something to do with the presidents of the United States. Our teacher had posted pictures of all of them on the wall. I pointed to the one I recognized and expressed admiration for this authority figure.
“He’s a liar!” Bobby declared.
How could the president be a liar? To me, the Watergate hearings had been an annoyance preempting Bewitched reruns that summer. I hadn’t understood their significance.
Over twenty years later Bob Jones IV, by then a reporter for a Christian news magazine in Washington, DC, would send me an e-mail about a different president. “Apparently there’s proof that he’s been having sex with a woman staffer in the White House. He’s going down!”
“No way,” I wrote back in defense of my Democratic president. “He’s not that stupid.”
But back in the second grade we didn’t worry so much about things like corruption in politics and sexual affairs. We learned about the U.S. mail system and played post office—the literal kind—with the other second grade class. I did my best, was always studious and polite, managed to be the teacher’s pet, but there was something—that unspoken something—that prevented me from being popular. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, Bobby’s
One of the major differences between Bob Jones University and other schools was the intensity of the religious beliefs and training. Even when you were just starting, religion was ingrained in every class. There was no separation at all.
Most of our textbooks were written by the Bob Jones University Printing Press. Every chapter, even in math, was somehow related to God. Especially science. Evolution, for example. Of course the idea of evolution being a legitimate science was never taught. Instead we were taught everything that was possibly wrong with the theory of evolution. We were made to believe that creation was the only way.
History was all relative to what’s in the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. But even our American history had a very slanted version to it. Psychology also had a very religion-based teaching. I took some psychology classes at Bob Jones and I didn’t learn a damn thing about psychology. Years later, when I started therapy I felt, Oh, this is what psychology is! The unconscious. I never heard of the unconscious. I took three psychology classes at Bob Jones and I never heard of the unconscious.
In the early classes I remember that the Old Testament was our history book for that particular period of history. Since then I’ve done a lot of reading on my own and I’ve found out that every Old Testament King of Israel would have the Old Testament completely rewritten to suit his political need. Yet we use this King James Version as “this is what happened in history” type of thing.
In the second grade I met a classmate who had the same name as the school. His great-grandfather had founded Bob Jones University, his grandfather was the former president and current chancellor, and his father was president. Like everyone else, I was extremely impressed with my classmate, Bob Jones IV—coming from the family of the school’s founder gave him a built-in popularity and an automatic aura of esteem. We were both bright, over-achievers, and I viewed him as something of a rival. Yet, he always seemed to be able to one-up me. My first conversation with him had something to do with the presidents of the United States. Our teacher had posted pictures of all of them on the wall. I pointed to the one I recognized and expressed admiration for this authority figure.
“He’s a liar!” Bobby declared.
How could the president be a liar? To me, the Watergate hearings had been an annoyance preempting Bewitched reruns that summer. I hadn’t understood their significance.
Over twenty years later Bob Jones IV, by then a reporter for a Christian news magazine in Washington, DC, would send me an e-mail about a different president. “Apparently there’s proof that he’s been having sex with a woman staffer in the White House. He’s going down!”
“No way,” I wrote back in defense of my Democratic president. “He’s not that stupid.”
But back in the second grade we didn’t worry so much about things like corruption in politics and sexual affairs. We learned about the U.S. mail system and played post office—the literal kind—with the other second grade class. I did my best, was always studious and polite, managed to be the teacher’s pet, but there was something—that unspoken something—that prevented me from being popular. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, Bobby’s
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