You build, and sometimes, you just watch it all burn.

I have a karmic debt to pay. Some might say I have several actually, but after telling them to go fuck themselves in their own glass houses, allow me to state that I will only be addressing one such debt here today.

I went to a Catholic high school. After nine years of “city” public school, this was a bit of a shock to my system. But, perhaps even more shockingly, I chose it. See, I knew that (for various local educational/political/bureaucratic reasons) at the end of my eighth grade year I was going to have to switch to a private school, and so somewhere around the end of seventh grade I started making the rounds and exploring the various options in our area. Which were numerous and varied. And to my parents’ credit, they were incredibly open to me guiding the process.

So ultimately I chose the mega Catholic complex I did because, amazingly, it felt most like the public school environment I was used to. For one thing, it was large: my graduating class was around 400, while many of the other private schools I explored (and spent time in) were surprisingly small. Small has always made me uncomfortable.

Another plus: its academic programs were varied and top-notch. Lots of choices, and many of the Advanced Placement variety. Yeah, I’m a geek, but I knew I wanted to go to college (preferably somewhere far away), and I wanted to go to a high school that not only seemed to have the ability to get me where I wanted to go, but also that gave me a large number of choices as to ways to get there. Then, as now, I was never exactly sure what I wanted and hence always wanted to be sure that there would be plenty of options.

And finally (and most importantly): believe it or not, the school was incredibly liberal. Some of the smaller private schools with no religious affiliation whatsoever seemed almost suffocating in comparison. Yes, it was part of the Catholic diocese, and having been raised completely non-religious, it gave me pause to think that I’d have to spend four years learning the ins and outs of Catholic dogma. But on the other hand, it was kind of exciting to think of all of the healthy “debates” (arguments?) I’d be able to have with nuns, priests, and teachers of religion in the span of four years. Yeah, I was young and idealistic, and convinced I’d be able to open at least a few eyes. And hell, if I could get used to wearing a uniform every day, I sure as hell could adjust to learning a little bit about Catholic Christianity and its history.

Well, I quickly saw that not only was it a liberal and open-minded environment, but there were only a handful of nuns in employ there, and only a single priest. Many of the students were heathens like me, and most, if not all, of the teachers seemed to be open to all kinds of discussion. In fact, the biggest initial shock came with the instantaneous recognition of what a completely white environment it was. I think there were approximately the same number of non-white students as nuns on the teaching staff. And having grown up in environments in which I was frequently a minority, it felt incredibly strange to be surrounded by such a homogenous population.

Of course, there was also the strangeness of the more traditionally Catholic aspects of our daily school life. For one, each day began not only with a recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, but also with a prayer—usually the Our Father or Hail Mary. I had never even heard those prayers before starting my freshman year! Of course I wasn’t the only one, and we were never forced to recite anything, anyway. We also had semi-frequent school-wide masses, and again, though everyone did have to attend and gape at the spectacle, no one was ever forced to participate or receive communion or anything like that. And no one was ever looked down upon or judged or made to feel guilty or any of the other unpleasant things associated with a Catholic upbringing.

In short, I felt pretty comfortable there. And in moments of discomfort, it was always accepted to question the source of that discomfort. And though I didn’t realize it at the time, as in any school, so much of that daily comfort level could be attributed to the principal and the environment that he created and maintained through his staff. This became especially evident in times when the “because we said so” or “because that’s just the way it is” mentality of the diocese reared its ugly head, which it could be known to do from time to time. And when it did, the activists among us would stand up and scream as necessary, until things eventually calmed down. Until the next time.

That is, until what became the final time. At the end of my junior year it was announced suddenly, and with no attempt at explanation, that following what was to be my senior year the diocese would be removing our beloved principal from his position. And when I say “beloved,” I’m in no way exaggerating. This inflammatory action on the part of the diocese (which they made no attempt to justify) began an all-out war that would last the better part of a year, in which teachers, parents, and students would repeatedly and with increasing anger demand explanations and satisfaction from an institution that repeatedly and infuriatingly turned a deaf ear. Teachers announced that upon the principal’s exit from the school, there would in fact be a staff exodus, as many of them were prepared to jump ship and follow their leader to wherever he ended up. It was determined that he was being let go purely because he was taking the school in a direction with which the diocese was no longer comfortable; they had lost control of the largest school in their domain, and were struggling to regain it and reinstall conservative Catholic values—values that had gone a long way in deterring the “types of students” that our principal had proven successful in attracting (i.e. non-Catholics). For you see, it’s not really the Catholic elementary and middle school system that is known for producing the best and the brightest. At least not where I’m from.

And after a year of battle with ultimately no resolution (or satisfaction), I graduated, our principal left, and a puppet was installed in his place. But all was certainly not forgotten. The ordeal left such a bitter taste in my mouth (and the mouths of many of my friends, family, and acquaintances, to be sure), and came to represent so much of that which religious institutions are capable in my mind, that I embarked on a one-man smear campaign that has lasted the better part of the decade since my graduation. That is, I mounted a high horse (or soap box, take your pick) from the heights of which I would preach to any that would listen; specifically, friends and/or acquaintances who had the misfortune to ask whether I’d be attending our class reunions or whether (god forbid) I’d consider donating money to the school’s alumni association and/or capital campaigns. Ha! Send money to that disgraceful institution that strives for poorly defined “Catholic values” and sneers in the face of justice and accountability? I think not!

And that brings us to today, and the karmic debt to which I must now make some sort of deposit. For you see, I’ve come to find out that, um, god this hard to write...well, our principal was not let go as a result of his controversially liberal attitude or the lax environment he created within our school’s four walls. Nope. Turns out he was let go in the face of a number of allegations of...sexual misconduct...between him and various female students.

And in the midst of the firestorm that rained down upon them, the diocese kept its collective mouth shut! Granted, I’m sure it was less out of a noble desire to not destroy the life of one of their own over then-unsubstantiated allegations, than out of a strong desire to avoid a scandal. But still. The whole affair came and went, our principal was raised onto the heights of a pedestal that ultimately advanced his career, teachers supported him, and in the face of all that the diocese was vilified and dragged through the mud. By me and lots of people like me. Oops.

So there it is.

And just so you know, I still don’t intend to attend class reunions or give money. The diocese remains a restrictive and conservative institution that has maintained a puppet principal in my once open and accepting high school; the school remains a shadow of what it was when I attended; and though I received a terrific education there at the hands of some brilliant, inspiring, and dedicated teachers, I can’t in good conscience contribute to the overseeing institution with which I take such issue on such a number of key points. It would be like contributing to the KKK because I once knew a particularly beguiling grand dragon who looked incredibly sexy in his stark white robes.

Or something like that.