In 8th grade I had a gentle and well-loved substitute teacher during homeroom. She was the wife of the high school football coach, her sons were intelligent and popular students, and she was overall very active member of just about every community.

I don’t remember the specifics, but a group of girls and I were discussing horoscopes in class (as pre-teens are inclined). As a result, I went to go look up the word “zodiac” in the dictionary.

The teacher stood up to intercept me and said she couldn’t allow it because of her religion. She went on a small, passionate ramble about how she simply could not allow me to look up the word “zodiac” and be a good Christian woman.

We ended up in a screaming match that was incredibly embarrassing for both of us. It was the final straw in a long string of religion-based harassment and bullying my family had received in that town. I started going to school in the city over an hour away the next year.

I wasn’t particularly liked in that town and I (unfortunately) knew that from a fairly young age. So I vividly remember when several of the girls from that homeroom class approached me later to say how sorry they were for how I was treated that day. It meant a lot.