I’m Jewish. I had my Bat Mitzvah when I was 12, and I haven’t practiced much since. However, I consider Judaism a large part of my religious and ethnic identity. Yet, I also spent six years, from seventh grade through the end of high school, at a Lasallian Catholic High School. And, I could not be more grateful for my experience.
I struggled at my elementary school. As the child of mixed-faith parents, I was always told that I wasn’t Jewish enough because my mother never converted. I was constantly punished for my parents’ choices—things that I had no control over. Was it fair? No. Did it hurt? All of the time. No matter how hard I tried, how much Hebrew I learned or how many traditions I studied, I was never good enough for my Jewish peers.
School offered me a fresh start. I was one of the weird kids at my school, but that was totally fine with me. I was able to forge my own identity for the first time in my life. I made friends based on common interests, class schedules, and experiences—rather than my perceived “Jewishness” or lack thereof.
My school also tokenized me. I was no longer that kid who “wasn’t Jewish enough.” Usually, I was “the Jew.” Sometimes, this was a great educational opportunity because it allowed me to present a unique perspective in my religion classes. It forced my teachers and peers to face a view that directly opposed their own, and led to some great discussions.
But, there were times when it was a problem at school. There were moments when I felt that teachers looked at me with either higher or lower expectations based on my faith. I’ll never forget the shock on my 10th-grade religion teacher’s face when I was the last one standing in the religious trivia quiz on the first day of class—and thanks to my wrong answer of “sack-cloth” I’ve never forgotten that John the Baptist wore clothes made out of camel hair. I frustrated my 11th-grade morality teacher because I firmly believed in moral relativism, the pro-choice movement, and other issues that directly oppose Catholic doctrine. I’m sure she continues to pray for my soul and believes that I’m going to Hell. It sucked having to sit through mass every month or so, and it was embarrassing to refuse communion—especially when I was younger and no one knew me. It reached the point when it was exhausting to explain my views and my faith, which dwindled every year. But this experience also taught be to be patient with people of different views, and to be open to new experiences perspectives.
My school also provided me with an overwhelming amount of support. Though my family always jokes that my high school was "a cult," I realized that my school created a vast network that I can always come back to. When I graduated, my teachers told me I could always come back to visit and I know that this is true. Even though things have changed at my high school, when I visit I'll be coming home.
I wouldn’t trade my high school experience for anything. Though my school was imperfect, it gave me the tools to be a more patient, understanding and college-ready individual. Thank you, Brothers, for preparing me for the world beyond our small home.
