The earliest memories of myself are as a student. I have distinct memories of myself in my kindergarten classroom. I even remember the location of my seat in the specific cluster of tables I was assigned. I also remember the stick-figure graphics that adorned the pages of the phonics books we used to learn to read. In the second grade, I have my first memory of making a mistake. In a spelling test, I wrote ‘rite’ instead of ‘write’ – and for the life of me, I could not understand how my answer wasn’t the correct one! Yet, despite this incomprehensible error (smile, smile), and the many more since, the classroom has always been the place where my life has been transformed and revolutionized.
However, my most memorable learning moments began in undergrad, when I took an “Intro to the Old Testament” class in which my faith perspective was turned upside down. It was there that I first learned that the stories of the Hebrew Bible were not unique; other ancient people also had stories that paralleled them. The creation stories, the flood story, the exodus story, among others, all had parallels in other mythological texts and traditions. In grad school I learned that even the Gospel of Mark had parallels to Homer’s Iliad. My whole religious tradition was flipped on its head – but the thing was – I absolutely loved it! I couldn’t have been more inspired. Those moments in the classroom of encountering theories and ideas that could set my whole mind reeling and my world spinning, that could revolutionize my way of thinking about the world, crystallized my commitment to a lifetime of learning. In those moments I came to realize that the classroom would always be my second home. Continue reading “Learning to Live by Xochitl Alvizo”
In 2013, I wrote an 
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I was trying not to fidget as I sat on the hard, unforgiving walnut pew. It was a gorgeous summer day out, and I was locked inside breathing stale air and with nothing to look at but the dreary speaker, and, behind him, a life-sized, picture of a sweet-looking man about to be hung from nails driven through his hands. I was visiting my parents, who love to take me to church, and I just wasn’t able to say no.
My sister once said about me, “One thing you have to understand about Elise—she takes the ritual of whole thing very seriously.” My sister was right and her words helped me see this quality about myself. What ritual was she talking about me taking so seriously? Happy hour on Fridays.
Feminism and Religion 
