On Tuesdays We Have English Class.

Talking about religion is complicated for me. It's been a path of ups and downs, certainty and doubt and it's a conversation I usually save for only those who are sailing the same ship. But a few months ago, a student asked me, "Ariana, you...um...God?" She put her finger to her head and then put her palms together in prayer. I paused and looked at her quizzically. "Do I believe in God?" I asked. She nodded. I continued to look at her. Of everyone in my life, I have never been prompted such a question. It comes up in conversation with adults because these things come up. But this wasn't an adult. It was an 8-year-old girl. Living in a largely atheistic country. I can't even imagine what could have happened during her day or what had been going on in her life for her to ask me this. Perhaps she felt her life was missing something and she was seeking some answers. It could have been that her class was studying world religions and cultures in school. Or maybe she was searching for some justification for the feeling of abandonment when things in life just didn't get better. But she's 8 so maybe she just heard the word mentioned in stories like the ones they hear about Ježišek and St. Mikulaš. Whatever the cause, I continued to look at her. I wondered how I should answer. I didn't want to overstep any bounds with parents. I didn't want to try to untangle the knotted mess of my own feelings while trying to teach 3rd graders how to express their own. I didn't want to lie. The class was quiet, hanging on my answer. My student straightened her posture and put her hands out, offering me my answer. "Yes?" She squeaked. I looked at her. "Yes, I do."