Rich’s story reminds me of the elementary school I went to in Hampton, VA when I was seven or eight. I was raised Catholic, but in deeply Baptist Southern Virginia there were few Catholic churches and no Catholic schools. The public schools were terrible at the time (late 70s). So my folks signed me up for the local Baptist private school (my mother was doing her student-teaching there and we got a discount).
Since I was so young, I didn’t quite grasp why the older kids said I “wasn’t a Christian” and made fun of me, but it wasn’t that big a deal because the kids my own age mostly didn’t understand either, so I had the typical number of friends. But I did vaguely understand that I was different, an outsider, and the teachers and preachers kind of treated me a little differently.
The Baptists also had fund-raisers similar to what Rich describes: small crosses (no plastic Jesus! That’s idolatry!) to buy, little New Testament pocket-bibles, stickers, bookmarks, etc., all hawked to 1st and 2nd graders with the unspoken assurance that we would absolutely be going straight to Hell if we didn’t convince our parents to send us back with money on the morrow.
But the thing that always stuck with me and that I remember vividly forty years later, is the “Saving” sessions.
Every few months, the pastor of the church attached to the school would visit the class and he’d have all the little seven-year-olds put their heads down and no peeking! You’d make Jesus cry if you peeked!
Then, with no pressure and no one needed to know one way or the other, you were supposed to raise your hand if you wanted to be Saved and Accept Jesus Into Your Heart. Yup. Noooo pressure. Take as long as you need. Give it some thought. All you have to do is raise your hand…
These things fucking terrified me. I was an obedient, good little boy and didn’t peek. But I could hear the other kids stirring around me. And as the session stretched on into what felt like goddamned hours with my head down, the preacher would inevitably be standing right next to my desk asking repeatedly if there was anyone else who wanted to be saved? Anyone? All you have to do is raise your hand and let Jesus Into Your Heart. Anyone?
But I knew I was different. I went to Mass every Sunday and sometimes on Wednesdays too. CCD for several hours after Mass Sunday mornings. These preachers were not of my tribe, and even as a seven-year-old I knew I wasn’t supposed to raise my hand, even if I wasn’t clear why.
So I never did. And afterwards, though they tried to hide it, the classroom teacher and the pastor would be kinda pissed off at me. I was not a behavior problem - far from it. It annoyed them that they couldn’t get an eager-to-please little boy to take that first little step away from his papist allegiance and into their system.
tl;dr: Catholics aren’t the only faith that exploits and traumatizes kids.