The Reverend Charlie Holmes. When I was first assigned to his senior English class, I was struck by his title, and wondered how much of a role his religious training would play in his teaching. I was struggling with my own understanding of religion and its place in my life, and I was fearful of how his opinions might impose themselves upon our class expectations. In short, I didn’t want to have to say I believed in a God that would do the things I had witnessed in the world. I didn’t even attend a parochial school, and so his title confused me further. I needn’t have worried. Several weeks into the class, our classmate April had a sneezing fit. ‘God bless you,’ Rev. Holmes said calmly. She sneezed again. ‘God bless you,’ he restated. She sneezed a third time. ‘GO TO HELL!’ he thundered. We stared in silence, dumbfounded. ’What? Obviously blessing her wasn’t working,’ he explained, a sly grin spreading on his face. The tension eased. April did not sneeze again. Reverend Holmes continued to defy expectations throughout the year. He began every class with a question for the class to puzzle out. If it seemed we were all in agreement, he would ask