Telling people you went to a private school elicits a certain response in the general public.

Anyone who has ever had to say out loud that their education was outside the public school realm knows all too well the glazed over look that usually follows with the response of “oh” or “ah” or some other noise that seemed to hide their internal thoughts that span along the lines of “that explains it” or “but you seemed so normal”.

The next bomb is the real kicker, the one when you explain that not only are you one of the elusive private school species, but you are a Catholic school graduate at that. The tension strengthens, the air thickens, and it’s like when all the birds go quiet before a storm. And then you quickly change the subject to something more comfortable to talk about like the current political climate or sick puppies, or tornados.

Even though there is a stigma surrounding Catholic school, my experience was unique in that I went through 12 years of an education centered around the Catholic faith and never myself “belonged” to the Catholic faith. I use the term “belonged” loosely because for all intents and purposes, and as far as the school knew, I was Catholic: I was baptized before I began school; I went through with communion, confirmation, and reconciliation.

However, I can count on one hand the number of times I went to mass outside the required attendance during school hours, one of which was for extra credit. The rest were as invitations from a friend, although I have theorized that the invitation was actually handed down from her parents in an effort to “save” me from my unwed mother and our unholy city life.

Going to a Catholic school with zero religious affiliations was an experience that has framed me in ways I am only vaguely aware of. Some are for the better, others I have worked hard to overcome and keep only as a memory of the dark ages of polos and khaki pants. I can pinpoint several examples in particular that have hindered my professional development and others that have been beneficial.

For example, in high school having almost all of my peers believe in something so strongly that I didn’t understand was an alienating feeling, but looking back on it I have learned how important it is to know what you believe in. I may not have understood their strong devotions to Jesus but it taught me that being open-minded and being complicit or apathetic is not the same thing at all. You can have strong beliefs and be certain about your thoughts in this world, while still remaining open to the thoughts and opinions of others.

As a Catholic with strong roots in their beliefs may not be shaken from their stance they can still find value in Muslim, Jewish, or Buddhist teachings as they pertain to the practice of their own religion. Similarly, I can hold strongly to my liberal ideology while still respecting and taking note from other viewpoints.

While my religious estrangement played a part in framing my own independent thought, the lack of diversity surrounding my education had the opposite effect. I live in a community that has a fair amount of diversity but is extremely segregated. My school was no exception being more than predominantly white. Had there been more diversity in my school or had the lack of diversity ever been actually addressed perhaps the topic privilege wouldn’t be one so hard for this demographic to accept. Although my ideology is rooted strongly in liberalism, this was a difficult subject for me to grasp. Nonetheless, I did, regardless of my whitewashed education.

Some people consider themselves a strong product of the Catholic school system, others consider themselves a survivor; I fall somewhere in between the shame and pride spectrum having learned from all sides of the experience. To this day I don’t identify religiously and unlike many others, I don’t think this has anything to do with my Catholic education. But whether we like to admit it or not high school shaped us, and I am thankful for my education in all its branded, bizarre glory.