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Authors: Eric R. Johnston
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name is Abigail Rita Morgan!”
“ My mistake, Abigail Rita Morgan.”
“ My mom says you’re a horse and a witch.”
A horse? She understood what was meant by a witch, but a horse? She suspected that “horse” wasn’t quite the word her mother had used. “Oh, is that right?” she smiled while attempting to contain her anger. It pained her that on her first day as parochial vicar, the thought crossed her mind to strangle a child.
“ She says you look like you ride around a lot, just like all of the horses. Boo to you!”
Whatever that means , she thought. “Please take your seat, Abigail.”
“ How can I take my seat? You need to tell me where to sit.”
What a rude child .
“ Right over there, sweetheart–the seat with your name on it.” She walked her to the desk while silently thanking Jesus the girl couldn’t read yet. The nametag said “Abby.” When Rita Morgan had enrolled her daughter, she had said, “She prefers Abby.” Teret was sure of it. She remembered the words as clear as day.
It starts at home. What a snotty brat .
As she taught history that day, then science, and then theology, Abigail’s hand repeatedly rose so she could tell Teret she was wrong about this, this, and that. Abigail found it necessary to contradict every other word that came out of her mouth. It was infuriating. And what was worse, Abigail clearly did not understand what she was saying. She spoke as if reciting lines she was forced to memorize.
That first afternoon, after classes ended, and after consulting Brother Decon, she had sent off a letter to Rita and James Morgan, explaining the incident, and inviting them to come in for a conference with her and the friar to discuss solutions to their daughter’s disruptive behavior.
“ My daughter’s disruptive behavior?!?!? ” Rita had screamed, bursting into the cathedral later that night. “As my Aunt Millie used to say, you must be trippin, Sister! I demand you apologize at once!”
“ Rita, please,” Decon said. “We can resolve this. Like adults. ”
“ Don’t patronize me,” Rita said. Teret couldn’t hide the smile that crept up on her face. “What is so damned funny?”
“ Rita, look, maybe we can make some arrangements to accommodate your daughter’s personality.” He had shifted his eyes from Rita’s to Teret’s.
“ She’s a witch! And showing off that body of yours to those children—how inappropriate! ” Teret’s outfit was standard for parochial vicars. She wore a red, form-fitting robe with golden crescents up the arm sleeves. There was no skin exposure, but Teret knew that what Rita was really railing against was the fact that it fit so tightly and that she wore the outfit well. Rumor had it that men’s eyes were straying toward this innocent, untouched woman, including James’s.
“ Rita, we mean no disrespect,” Decon continued.
“ No disrespect? You defile our daughter’s name, and what’s worse, you teach lies. Lies! ”
“ Rita, please,” Teret responded. “What I teach—what Noremway Parish teaches—is what we call consensus information. Throughout Earth’s history, scholars from all fields have come to certain conclusions based on the evidence they’ve gathered. That is what we teach. It’s not a dogmatic approach. We teach what is generally considered to be true by a majority of experts throughout history.”
“ Only God knows the truth, dear.”
“ My point is we teach what most people agree is true. We don’t aim to teach non-orthodoxy.”
“ What do you know about orthodoxy, Sister Teret? Hmm? I suspect you could write what you know on your thumbnail. Come, James, let’s get out of here. Abigail will not be coming back.”
“ That’s too bad. I was hoping we could work this out.” Despite her strong feelings to the contrary, she found that she truly did hope they could. Teret and Decon then filed a joint report with the chancellor and mayor to allow the Morgans to send Abigail to a
“ My mistake, Abigail Rita Morgan.”
“ My mom says you’re a horse and a witch.”
A horse? She understood what was meant by a witch, but a horse? She suspected that “horse” wasn’t quite the word her mother had used. “Oh, is that right?” she smiled while attempting to contain her anger. It pained her that on her first day as parochial vicar, the thought crossed her mind to strangle a child.
“ She says you look like you ride around a lot, just like all of the horses. Boo to you!”
Whatever that means , she thought. “Please take your seat, Abigail.”
“ How can I take my seat? You need to tell me where to sit.”
What a rude child .
“ Right over there, sweetheart–the seat with your name on it.” She walked her to the desk while silently thanking Jesus the girl couldn’t read yet. The nametag said “Abby.” When Rita Morgan had enrolled her daughter, she had said, “She prefers Abby.” Teret was sure of it. She remembered the words as clear as day.
It starts at home. What a snotty brat .
As she taught history that day, then science, and then theology, Abigail’s hand repeatedly rose so she could tell Teret she was wrong about this, this, and that. Abigail found it necessary to contradict every other word that came out of her mouth. It was infuriating. And what was worse, Abigail clearly did not understand what she was saying. She spoke as if reciting lines she was forced to memorize.
That first afternoon, after classes ended, and after consulting Brother Decon, she had sent off a letter to Rita and James Morgan, explaining the incident, and inviting them to come in for a conference with her and the friar to discuss solutions to their daughter’s disruptive behavior.
“ My daughter’s disruptive behavior?!?!? ” Rita had screamed, bursting into the cathedral later that night. “As my Aunt Millie used to say, you must be trippin, Sister! I demand you apologize at once!”
“ Rita, please,” Decon said. “We can resolve this. Like adults. ”
“ Don’t patronize me,” Rita said. Teret couldn’t hide the smile that crept up on her face. “What is so damned funny?”
“ Rita, look, maybe we can make some arrangements to accommodate your daughter’s personality.” He had shifted his eyes from Rita’s to Teret’s.
“ She’s a witch! And showing off that body of yours to those children—how inappropriate! ” Teret’s outfit was standard for parochial vicars. She wore a red, form-fitting robe with golden crescents up the arm sleeves. There was no skin exposure, but Teret knew that what Rita was really railing against was the fact that it fit so tightly and that she wore the outfit well. Rumor had it that men’s eyes were straying toward this innocent, untouched woman, including James’s.
“ Rita, we mean no disrespect,” Decon continued.
“ No disrespect? You defile our daughter’s name, and what’s worse, you teach lies. Lies! ”
“ Rita, please,” Teret responded. “What I teach—what Noremway Parish teaches—is what we call consensus information. Throughout Earth’s history, scholars from all fields have come to certain conclusions based on the evidence they’ve gathered. That is what we teach. It’s not a dogmatic approach. We teach what is generally considered to be true by a majority of experts throughout history.”
“ Only God knows the truth, dear.”
“ My point is we teach what most people agree is true. We don’t aim to teach non-orthodoxy.”
“ What do you know about orthodoxy, Sister Teret? Hmm? I suspect you could write what you know on your thumbnail. Come, James, let’s get out of here. Abigail will not be coming back.”
“ That’s too bad. I was hoping we could work this out.” Despite her strong feelings to the contrary, she found that she truly did hope they could. Teret and Decon then filed a joint report with the chancellor and mayor to allow the Morgans to send Abigail to a
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