A recent post by Rahul Parikh (From the Medical-Legal Department) reminded me of some issues involving the separation of church and state raised by something that happened at my daughter’s school when she was in kindergarten (She enters 1^st grade in 5 days, 17 hours and 9 minutes).

Now, I live in Texas. It may be Austin (telling non-Texans that you live in Austin inspires people to say, “Oh, thank goodness you’re not a racist redneck Republican.” Telling Texans that you live in Austin gets the response, “You’re one of those left-wing loonies, ain’t ya?”), but there are occasional geographic reminders.

One day, I found a flyer on my doorknob. It was from one of the local Baptist churches advertising an appearance at their services from the “Truth Force Strength Team”, an evangelical group that proves the strength of their faith by bending iron bars over their heads, ripping phone books, and other feats of physical prowess.

I chuckled to myself. Those silly Baptists. Couldn’t they smell the cloud of sulfur and brimstone hovering over my house or see the giant pentagrams I painted on the driveway to keep the magazine salesmen away (okay, just kidding about that one)? I tucked the flyer into a drawer, thinking I could look at the straining faces of those barbaric Galilean heretics whenever I needed a laugh.

Around 3:00 PM, I walked to pick up my daughter at her school. As I did every day, I asked her what she did that day on the walk home.

“Oh, oh, there was a play, it was in the cafeteria. All the kids were in the cafeteria, and the whole school was there, and the teachers, and Mrs. Dee walked us down the hallway, and Connor burped, and Mrs. Dee told him to be quiet, and it was a special thing, and we got to the cafeteria, and there were so many kids…”

For those of you without kids, the actual subject of  any conversation is hostage to a barrage of detail as if everything is as interesting as everything else—which, to them, it often is. I often find it necessary to provide some direction.

“Yes, yes, dear; but what was the play about?”

“Well there were these two guys, and they were giants, and there was two of them, and they were both up in front, and one ripped a phone book up!”

This was said as if it was the coolest thing she had ever seen.

“And then the other, the other man, the man that was there, he bent a stick over his head! And one broke a bat, and then we all clapped, and then, they gave us these!”

It was the same flyer that had appeared, ninja-like, at my front door in the morning. My first reaction was puzzlement. How could an obviously religious evangelical group make an appearance at a public school? The next was concern.

“Did those men say anything about God, sweetie?” As I spoke, I realized my question was uttered in the same tone as detectives on Law & Order ask, “And did that man touch you in any way that made you uncomfortable?”

 “Well the one guy, the one who bent the stick, in the cafeteria, he said, when we were all there, he said God gave him the power and then he bent the stick, and it was so cool!”

“Ah. It was cool, huh?”

“Yes it was so cool!”

Perhaps the most important thing I have learned as a parent is that kids crave attention. You react to something, however negatively, and they will laugh maniacally as they do that thing again and again. So I deftly changed the subject and walked home with my daughter.

I have nothing against Christians personally: my daughter’s father (who I am divorced from but still friends with) is one. But I feel strongly that if someone is going to teach our daughter about the Christian God, it should be her dad, not some muscle-bound freaks with an agenda (and I maintain the right to provide other options).

Still, I didn’t want to be “that mom” who gets the ACLU involved every time a preacher comes within 50 yards of an elementary school. Using an unrelated topic as a cover, I asked my daughter’s teacher about the assembly in an email. She replied that various groups gave presentations from time to time.

It seemed a fair enough answer, although I highly doubt that among the “various groups” were the “Maimonides Force Talmud Team”, the “Pagan Pillage Panel”, or the “Holy Cow Hindu Quilters”. I let the matter drop, if not exactly quietly, then at least without contacting the Texas Freedom Network.

They seem to have enough work on their hands.