Class dismissed!

Karl launched his attack obliquely, at Mormonism rather than at the humanists. It was an oddly misplaced target, but he may have sensed that he would be all alone if he came at the subject head on.

"I hope nobody in here is a Mormon," he said, tersely, gripping the edge of his desk as he tilted it over into the action. "But, there are some people who consider themselves Christians who have some really strange beliefs. What is that stuff about the underwear, special underwear or something? How can such people call themselves Christians?"

I was close enough to Nate to hear him mutter under his breath, "What the hell does this have to do with the subject?" A few seconds later, Heather said the same thing out loud, to a general murmur of assent.

"What good does it do for us to discuss attacks on Christianity from the scientists when there are people who call themselves Christians who are attacking it from what looks like inside? That's where the real trouble lies." Karl's desk almost fell in the zeal of his forward motion.

Lessie, speaking so gently she was difficult to hear, said, "I'm a Mormon, so you can speak directly to me. What is it you want to know?" It was firm, matter-of-fact. Karl flew back in his chair, almost hitting his head against the wall.

"But, see ..." Karl backpedaled for a moment, but then started up again. "See, if you're going to be a Christian, all you have to do is believe in Jesus as your personal savior. All the rest of this stuff is not important. In fact, some of the stuff you believe in is just plain wrong." Audible collective sighs wafted throughout the room. Most students chose sides long ago. I had stopped a similar discussion several weeks before, suggesting that we all try not boring each other with repetition.

Roberta had been holding her deep sarcasm firmly under control until now. With pierced nostrils and a bandanna on her head, no makeup, fierce dark eyes, Roberta looks like a Gypsy avenger, a woman who could tear the heart out of an enemy and bite into it. I was glad she was not sitting next to Karl, because she might have thrown him down on the rug and stomped on him.

"This is the same old shit, Karl," she bellowed. "Where do you come off with this self-righteous bullshit?"

"Yeah," from Selena. The room was rumbling. Even Bart, the middle-aged, grandfatherly, self-identified Christian was visibly upset.

My face felt like an inferno. I bent my nose to one side with my index finger to see how red it actually was: W. C. Fields going on Rudolph. Then an Old Testament deity, much like the one seemingly snubbed by Galileo and the gang, rose to speak a sonorous tone much like the voice that transfixed Job.

"STOP! THIS IS TOO MUCH! YOU ARE ACTING LIKE THIS COURSE NEVER HAPPENED! WHERE IS SOCRATES? WHERE IS THE 'ZEN MIND'?"

Of course, they were all looking at me, red nose and all. I'm sure even in their wildest hopes for liberation from the authoritarian voice, most of the class knew that the latent dictator would erupt from the sidelines and take back the power he had bestowed upon them. Everybody knows that power granted, not won, can always be reclaimed.

It was spontaneous and unrehearsed. I had been under stress and popping pills for the previous two weeks, grasping for a way to avoid an early death. Suddenly the nature of this particular class, this particular dialogue, or absence thereof, my earlier surrender of authority, student mindlessness in general, probably the failure of the test-ban treaty, the direction of the world economy, perhaps even phases of the moon all coalesced into an eruption that was as inevitable as Old Faithful.

"SO!" I began again and then lowered my voice. "So, the class is over. Not for today, for the whole semester. Obviously a lot of people have learned nothing. We begin again next Wednesday. Nobody is required to come. If you show up, you can help plan the rest of the semester. Dismissed." Jehovah had flooded the just and the unjust.

A few people milled around. Bart nodded. Karl looked stunned. I turned to Roberta and Selena and tried to assure them that it had not been their fault as discussion leaders, though Roberta clearly was one of the recipients of my wrath. Jane, who had been so heavily dissed a few weeks ago, looked quaintly pleased. Karl said, "See ya."

Four students came to my office, either to solidify their own innocence or to join in judgment of the guilty. There wasn't much to say, yet.

On the drive home, NPR was discussing the failure of the test-ban treaty, Trent Lott intoning that the treaty was "fatally flawed." Clinton could not dismiss the Senate. The system of checks and balances doesn't allow it.

I turned off the radio. I needed to reflect on the checks and balances in my own personal system.

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