My German-Catholic Grandmother

Tonight (in the unending quest to find something, ANYTHING to do besides my reading for the lit review) I paged through the Alumni magazine of my alma mater.

One of the top stories was about four faculty members who had received awards during the last all school mass of the year. One was an award chosen by parents, one by students, and the other two by faculty and staff. And yes, in high school I attended All School Masses.

Upon receiving the Apple Polisher Award from the student body, the lucky Spanish teacher said something to the effect of, "I'd like to thank my Lord Jesus who is responsible for all the great things about me."

At the risk of sounding cold, callous, angry, God-hating, Jesus-hating, and Christ (no pun intended), even a little jealous, I thought that was a lame-o acceptance speech. It doesn't really seem to have the right amount of humility--it affirms that yep, she's great, and while she won't take credit for it, dammit, she is. Also, while I'm a firm believer in the fact that some days in a classroom are in need of a little divine intervention, I don't ascribe to the belief that the Lord Jesus Himself is making me a mediocre, good, or great teacher, or for that matter, is all that particularly interested in my teaching.

So I'm thinking all of this to myself and realize, "God, Rach, you sound cold, callous, angry, God-hating, Jesus-hating, and frankly, a little jealous."

And then, I swear to God, I heard the voice of my German Catholic grandmother say, "You need to get your ass to church. Ach, aye Jesu."

Duly noted, Grandma. Duly noted.