You Can Get Here From There: Part II -- CCD

Note:  I have been examining and assessing my spiritual life, growth, and development for some time now in preparation to enter discernment for the formation for the diaconate.  As part of this self examination, I was asked to write a spiritual autobiography of sorts.  This will be published in digestible bits.  I have decided to share this ever expanding text for two reasons:  One, to show people that wherever you are in life, a path to the Lord and His Church is right in front of you, and, two, to elicit prayers for my discernment.

I hated CCD.

I hated it when it was on Saturday mornings.  While other kids were lounging late into the morning still clad in their pajamas, spooning down a second bowlful of Capt. Crunch with Crunchberries as they watched Scooby Doo or Josie and the Pussycats or Inch High Private Eye or Hong Kong Phooey, I was sitting slumped in some Catholic school kid’s desk.  

I hated it when it was on Monday nights.  While other kids were able to assemble a gourmet snack and watch full episodes of holiday specials like It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown or A Charlie Brown Christmas or It’s Arbor Day, Charlie Brown, I was forced to fidget in my seat as our teacher wouldn’t dismiss us until exactly 8:00 (if we were talkative that particular class -- which we most often were -- she would keep us an extra five minutes) and only be able to catch the last few minutes of the special by the time we got home.

I hated CCD.

According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, CCD, or Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, was established at Rome in 1562 to give religious instruction, and in 1571, Pope St. Pius V recommended that bishops establish it in parishes.¹ Despite its lofty lineage, we kids saw CCD as just more school with some church thrown in.  It was like wearing good shoes to gym class.  Even our protestant playmates scoffed and boasted that they only had to deal with church on Sundays.  And since I went to public school, I had to make my weekly schlepp to our parish’s Catholic school and endure more school.

But my friends and I viewed CCD as more like a second tier school.  Yes, we still had to go.  Yes, we still had to behave.  But we could get away with just a little more than in “real” school.  We could act a little cooler, a little rowdier without the ramifications of detentions or having to stand by the wall during recess.  

One of my favorite class pastimes was writing little notes to whoever the kid was who sat in that very class seat during regular school hours.  There were some years when my Catholic school counterpart and I corresponded so regularly that I had actually felt a friendship. Of course, it wasn't to last, as I discovered on day that the student's seat had been moved, evidenced by the pink kitty cat spiral notebooks that had suddenly replaced the "Starsky and Hutch" ones.

Of course those were the years when we had laypersons teaching.  Those years when we had nuns teach our CCD classes, we were the most angelic cherubs this side of paradise...mostly.

I especially remember Sister Joan.  She was the no nonsense, powerhouse principal of the Catholic school who didn't let us kids get away with anything, and we were terrified of her.  She taught us during eighth grade and prepared us for our Confirmation.  I remember one particular day when a friend and I decided to challenge Sister by deliberately being bad.  Of course “bad” meant popping chewing gum, throwing paper at each other when her back was turned, general goofing off, things like that.  Well, Sister Joan was having none of that.  After yelling at us, she promptly got in touch with our parents and my friend and I had to sit for detention which she had created just for us.  We had to stay late not for just one week, but for several months. During that time we got to know Sister Joan a lot better.  By the end of that year, I felt close to her and, looking back now, realize the lasting effect she had on me. 

As a child, CCD was perfunctory to me as much as going to Mass was.  It wasn’t until years later when I realized that Catholicism was a lot more than just a school time add-on and Christian calisthenics on a Sunday morning.  But that didn’t happen until after I had reclaimed my Catholicism, taught CCD, experienced our Church in a far deeper way -- only after my lapse into protestant experimentation.