Teenagers Speak Up for Lack of Faith
By MICHAEL WINERIP
PANAMA CITY, Fla. — Every other Wednesday, right after school at 2:45, the newest club at Rutherford High, the atheist club, meets in Room 13-211.
Last Wednesday, Jim Dickey, the president, started out by asking his fellow student atheists (there are a few agnostics, too) whether they wanted to put together an all-atheist Ultimate Frisbee team for a charity event.
“We can pay the entry fee from the club treasury,” said Michael Creamer, the atheists’ faculty adviser, who urged them to take part.
Club members discussed what to do about Faith Week. Rutherford High’s two Christian clubs will be sponsoring a series of before-school prayer circles around the flagpole this week, and several of the atheists felt a need to respond in some way. “We can set up informational tables near the flagpole and do our own speeches,” said Mr. Creamer, who suggested waiting a few weeks. “Remember, we’re not trying to be confrontational; this will be a counterpoint.”
Mr. Creamer, 47, an English teacher and longtime atheist who grew up in a family of Free Will Baptists, is constantly urging club members to “be friendly, put on those smiles — people don’t expect that from atheists.”
The Christians and atheists at Rutherford High get along better than some might expect. Joshua Mercer, a senior, who is president of Ignite, a Christian club, and Jim, the atheist president, are close friends. They love comparing philosophies, and giving each other a hard time. “We like to go to Taco Bell together,” Joshua said.
Still, he worries about Jim and the other atheists. “If they don’t accept Jesus Christ as a savior, they will definitely go to hell,” said Joshua, who rises at 4:30 each morning to read the Bible with his grandmother.
Joshua believes there is still time for Jim. “Jim could change,” he said. “If he will accept Jesus in his heart, he has a free ride to heaven.”
There have long been college atheist clubs, and at present there are an estimated 240 nationwide, said J. T. Eberhard, 29, of the national Secular Student Alliance. But recently they have been springing up at high schools. In the last three months, the number has risen to 21 from 12, Mr. Eberhard said.
The alliance, which is based in Columbus, Ohio, provides support services to atheist organizations. Several months ago, the Stiefel Freethought Foundation donated $50,000, enabling Mr. Eberhard to organize full time at high schools. His target is 50 clubs by year’s end.
The federal law permitting extracurricular clubs to use public schools before and after hours was passed in 1984 after lobbying by conservative church groups. Bible study clubs grew fruitful and multiplied, replenishing the Christian faith throughout the land. Then things took a turn to the left. The law required equal access, and gay-straight clubs started popping up.
And now this.
“That was an eye-opener for us,” said Karen Harrell, the head of Rutherford’s math department, who serves as the sponsor for Ignite. Her husband, Kirk, is a gym teacher who is adviser for the other religious club, the Fellowship of Christian Athletes.
“Some of our students didn’t understand that there are people who don’t believe in God,” Mrs. Harrell said.
At one point, Mr. Creamer suggested that the clubs get together and discuss their beliefs, but Mrs. Harrell, who attends Hiland Park Baptist Church, declined, fearing it would turn into a debate. “My reaction is faith in Jesus Christ is not at all logical,” she said. “When your beliefs are based on faith, you’re believing something you can’t see. Being able to prove that scientifically in a debate — it could be hard to win.”
“Our goal,” she said, “is not to confuse anyone.”
Because of its location on the edge of the Old South, people here refer to Panama City as the buckle of the Bible Belt. There are Air Force and naval bases nearby. Often, one of the first questions neighbors ask when meeting someone for the first time is “What church do you belong to?”
A high school atheist club could be a controversial disaster.
A major reason it’s not is Mr. Creamer, the Atticus Finch of Rutherford High. He grew up nearby in a little town called Wausau, and his uncle was the preacher at the Free Will Baptist Church there. He graduated from Florida State University, returned here and has been teaching English at the high school ever since, for 26 years.
People appreciate that he knows his trade. “Students are so engrossed with what he’s teaching,” said Michael Kennedy, the principal, who belongs to St. Dominic Roman Catholic Church. “When I do a walk-through, they don’t even notice I’m there.”
And like Atticus Finch in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Mr. Creamer has the rare gift of being able to stand up for what he believes without angering people. He may disagree with Mrs. Harrell, but he shows his respect. “She’s a really good math department head,” Mr. Creamer said.
Several years ago he wanted to teach “The Epic of Gilgamesh” in his mythology class. It might have been 5,000 years old, but it was not on the Sunshine State’s approved reading list. Some might have quit; Mr. Creamer began the long and tedious process of pleading his case up the chain of command, until he was called before the local school board. There were board members who were concerned that the epic poem included a few sexual passages. For an hour he stood patiently and politely answering all questions, and then eked out a 3-to-2 win.
Long before there was an atheist club, Mr. Creamer was open about his atheism. And yet as Joshua, the Christian club president, says, “He lets you know what he believes, but I’ve never seen him try to convert anyone.”
The military is so popular here that 150 of Rutherford’s 1,250 students belong to the Junior R.O.T.C. The student cadet leader this year, Justin Marshall, is a member of the atheist club, as is last year’s cadet leader, Julia Corley. “Mr. Creamer’s probably my favorite teacher,” Justin said. “The way he talks is not boring at all. If I could have him for every subject, I would.”
Mr. Creamer teaches his students that if they are going to stick out their necks for unconventional ideas, they better not stick out for any of the wrong reasons. “Mr. Creamer told us, as an atheist, you have to be on your best behavior,” said Nick Machuca, a junior.
At last week’s meeting, Mr. Creamer described a survey he had read that said atheism was the single biggest turnoff for voters. “Do you think there will ever be an atheist president?” he asked them.
“I do,” said Caroline England, a sophomore.
“Not in my lifetime,” Mr. Creamer replied. “Maybe yours.”
“Why not?” asked Caroline. “We have just as good morals as they do.”
Last fall, Breane Lyga joined both a Christian club and the atheist club. Some Christian club members thought she was doing it for a goof. Others wondered if she was a spy for the atheists, but Breane said she was just confused.
“I was kind of agnostic,” she said. “I wanted to get both points of view.” She talked with Mrs. Harrell and Mr. Creamer, two of her favorite teachers. She weighed the pluses and minuses. Around Christmas she stopped attending the Christian club meetings. “I guess I found out who I was,” she said.
There are students who do not want their parents to know they belong to an atheist club. “I tell my mother I’m at Ocean Club,” one girl said.
Another member said her father, who is in the Navy, would be angry and disappointed in her. “He keeps a roof over my head,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to fight with him.” She asked that her name not be used for fear it would hurt her father. “I don’t want us to grow apart over this,” she said.
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