It's 2:47 AM and I'm eating Lucky Charms dry from the box while sitting on my kitchen floor because apparently this is what happens when you completely self-destruct in front of children who trust you to know things about God.
My husband walked through twenty minutes ago, took one look at me, and just quietly closed the bedroom door. Smart man.
Today was supposed to be foolproof. Cain and Abel. I've taught this story probably thirty times. It's straightforward - jealousy, murder, consequences, God's mercy. Even I can't mess this up, right?
WRONG.
So there I am, feeling all confident in my little cardigan and my laminated visual aids, wrapping up with my practiced "and this shows us God loves us even when we mess up" speech when Aiden's hand shoots up.
Aiden who still can't tie his shoes but apparently has the theological curiosity of a seminary student.
"Miss Sarah, if Adam and Eve only had two boys and Cain killed Abel, where did Cain find a wife? Did he have to marry his sister or his mom? Because that's really gross and also illegal."
The room went dead quiet. Fifteen little faces staring at me expectantly. My brain completely blue-screened. I could literally hear my own heartbeat.
The Moment My Teaching Career Died
Any rational person would have said "Wow, great question! That's actually something Bible scholars discuss. Let me think about how to explain that."
But I'm not rational when I'm panicking. I'm a disaster human who blurts out whatever random words form in my terror brain.
So I said - and I'm dying typing this - "Well actually God made lots of other people but He kept them hidden as a surprise for later."
SURPRISE PEOPLE.
I invented surprise people in the Garden of Eden because I couldn't handle admitting I didn't have a perfect answer ready.
Madison's hand immediately shoots up. "Wait, so there were secret people hiding in the bushes the whole time?"
And do I back down? Do I say "actually let me rethink that"?
NO. I DOUBLE DOWN.
"Yes! God had them wait in special hiding places until the right time."
I'm creating an entire theological framework about stealth humans because my pride is apparently more important than accuracy.
The Rabbit Hole That Consumed My Soul
Now every single kid is obsessed with my fictional stealth humans:
"Were they invisible or just really good at hiding?" "Did they live underground like moles?" "Why didn't Adam step on them when he was walking around?" "Were they tiny like fairies?" "Did they have to hold their breath so Adam wouldn't hear them breathing?" "Were they ninja people?"
And I'm standing there elaborating on this insane mythology because apparently I'd rather construct an entire alternate Genesis narrative than say three words: "I don't know."
Tommy raises his hand with the most serious expression. "So God was basically playing the world's longest hide-and-seek game with secret people?"
I nodded. I NODDED. Like this made perfect sense.
Emma, bless her brutally honest six-year-old heart, looks directly at me and says, "Miss Sarah, you look really scared and your voice is getting squeaky. Are you making all this up right now?"
These children see straight through to my soul and it's terrifying.
The Text That Made Me Question Everything
At 11:15 PM I texted Pastor Dave: "Emergency. Hypothetically, if someone accidentally taught a classroom full of children that Genesis includes a secret society of hidden humans, how much trouble would that someone theoretically be in? Asking for a friend. The friend is me. I am in crisis."
He called me back wheezing with laughter. "Sarah, this is EXACTLY why we tell volunteers it's completely okay to say 'I don't know' when kids ask hard questions. You're not required to be a walking theological encyclopedia."
"But Dave, they were all staring at me expectantly! I panicked!"
"So you invented biblical ninjas?"
"...yes."
More wheezing laughter. "We're definitely talking about this at the next staff meeting."
Great. Now my stealth people theology is going to be legendary church lore.
Questions That Make Me Want to Fake My Own Death
This isn't even the first time I've been ambushed by kid logic:
Last month: "If Jesus could walk on water why didn't He just fly everywhere instead of walking? Flying is faster."
Two weeks ago: "Did Mary have to change Jesus's diapers? That seems weird for God."
Last week: "If God made everything perfect in the garden why did He put the bad tree right where Adam and Eve could reach it? That's like putting cookies on the counter and telling kids not to eat them."
These children think about theology more than I do and I'm supposed to be the teacher.
The Universalism Incident I'm Still Recovering From
Month before last little Grace asked if her grandpa who hated church was in heaven now that he died.
Instead of being wise and gentle I panic-answered "God loves everyone and wants everyone with Him forever."
Grace went home and announced to her very Baptist family that Miss Sarah said everyone goes to heaven no matter what.
Cue phone call from Grace's dad asking why his daughter is now telling people that Hitler is probably in heaven.
I wanted to disappear into the earth.
The Mosquito Question That Broke Me
Three weeks ago Marcus asked why God made mosquitoes if He's good and mosquitoes are terrible and bite people and spread diseases.
I'm standing there thinking great we're doing the problem of evil with six year olds now.
I said something stupid about how all creation has purpose which led to twenty minutes of kids naming awful things:
"What's the purpose of stepping on Legos?" "What's the purpose of vegetables?" "What's the purpose of my brother breaking my stuff?" "What's the purpose of when you have to throw up?"
I googled "how to quit Sunday school" during snack time.
What Actually Works When I'm Not Being Stupid
The rare times I handle questions well it's because I remember these magic words:
"Wow that's such a smart question. I've wondered about that too."
"You know what? I'm not sure about that one. Let me ask Pastor Dave."
"The Bible doesn't tell us everything but it does tell us God loves us."
"Different people think about that in different ways. What do you think?"
Last week someone asked how Noah fit all the animals on the boat and instead of making something up I said "I've always wondered that too! What do you think happened?"
They had the best discussion about boat logistics and divine intervention and I didn't have to pretend I understand ancient naval engineering.
The Question I'm Still Avoiding
Two weeks ago Sophia asked "If God forgives everyone who says sorry, do bad people like murderers get to go to heaven if they ask?"
I completely chickened out and said "That's a great question for your parents."
Because how do you explain grace and justice to a seven year old without making God sound scary or making sin sound not serious?
Still working on that one.
What Nobody Told Me About Teaching Kids
Before I started this I thought I needed to be a walking Bible encyclopedia with perfect answers for everything.
Turns out kids just need someone who:
- Takes their questions seriously
- Doesn't make them feel dumb for asking
- Admits when they don't know stuff
- Points them back to God's love when things get confusing
- Isn't afraid to learn with them
The goal isn't having all the answers. The goal is helping kids know questions are okay and God is big enough for their curiosity.
My New Plan (Hopefully Better Than Secret People)
Next time a kid asks something that makes my brain freeze I'm going to:
- Take a breath
- Remember this is a real question from a real kid
- Say "I don't know" if I don't know
- Focus on what we DO know about God's character
- Be human instead of trying to be perfect
Will I still panic sometimes? Probably. Will I accidentally invent more fictional Bible characters? God I hope not.
But at least now I know that saying "I don't know" is way better than creating elaborate mythologies about ninja humans in Genesis.
Sorry Aiden. The secret people were never real.
Though honestly your question was really smart and I probably should have just said that instead of losing my entire mind.
