“Horoscopes are the devil’s work,” she said, “even if you read them just for fun.”

Once again, “you’ve got to be kidding me” popped into my head, probably for the billionth time that evening. The first few comments to provoke my disgusted disbelief included, “Harry Potter is witchcraft,” and “Yoga is the work of the devil.”

But according to this so-called teacher, everything was demonic in one way or another.

I looked around the class, desperate to find an equally confused confidant.

No luck.

Half of my classmates were doodling, falling asleep, texting or whispering to one another. The other half were staring at the teacher, soaking in all of her crazy talk and nodding their heads in agreement.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

My blood began to boil again. My temperament rose, as it always did during these meetings.

Was I the only one confused by her statement? The only one who found it bizarre, offensive, and, well- wrong?

Apparently.

So I raised my hand, for the billionth time, ready to refute my opponent once more.

As epic as it sounds, it was just another day in Confirmation class for me. And I know why the comment disgusted me at the time. It still does.

What I don’t know is why it surprised me. I should have been used to it by then. I should have been immune to the “this is evil, this is wrong” proclamation that was slapped on just about anything and everything.

Because that’s what it’s like when you go through eight years of Catholic school and two years of Confirmation, and half-way along that road to righteousness you realize you’re not Catholic.

To tell you the truth, it’s quite brutal.

I never begged my parents to send me to a public school during those years. Maybe I was tired of arguing with my teachers and didn’t have the energy to continue the fight at home. But I guess I endured it because I thought I would disappoint them.

And my younger years as a Catholic-in-training weren’t that bad. Singing “Jesus Loves Me,” coloring pictures of guardian angels and watching videos of St. Patrick every March was admittedly enjoyable. I was living the sweet life.

That is until I was old enough to question the curriculum.

It hit me during the Confirmation process. Hearing that atheists were “lesser” than believers, being told anything different or unfamiliar is devil-like, and pretending to believe in something I had never seen and clearly didn’t agree with was enough to turn me off of any form of organized religion for good.

I know faith helps many people. Knowing something is watching over and protecting you can bring peace and security to an otherwise chaotic life.

But when faith is intertwined with discrimination, hypocrisy, endless evils and prohibitions, you become just another babbling, bureaucratic bible-thumper (try saying that five times fast).

I’d like to think it was the extremist’s fault for my bitterness toward religion. But because my parents were so open-minded and I never felt any religious pressure at home, I’m forced to think my Catholicism catastrophe was bound to happen.

I’m comfortable with what I know and what I can prove. I like forming my own perspectives and morals. I find peace and security in logic and reason, and in the relationships I have with other living, breathing creatures.

But I guess that’s just the devil talking.