‘I have a project I want to take on this semester,’ I began. ‘And I thought, Hey! Why not go straight to the top? To the man himself? Well, not The Man,’ I clarified, indicating the chiseled Jesus with the hipster beard on the crucifix behind his desk. ‘But … you.’

‘That’s very exciting, Ms Heck!’ Father Hughes’s eyes were practically twinkling in his craggy face. He probably thought flying my dad in had finally brainwashed me into the prayer-books-and-pompons spirit of the place. ‘We do so love to see our students showing initiative.’

‘Well, I was thinking about what you said,’ I continued. ‘Ya know, about me using my unique perspective, contributing to the school community, all that stuff? And I realized exactly what the school community needs.’

Dramatic pause. I took a deep breath and then held my hands out to Father Hughes like I was offering him a gift.

‘St Mary’s Catholic School presents The Vagina Monologues.’

The twinkle in Father Hughes’s eyes dimmed. The lines in his face hardened to stone. Silence. We stared each other down over the desk for a good minute or more before he cleared his throat and spoke.

‘That certainly is … creative, Ms Heck. And I appreciate your giving thought to the artistic enrichment of the school. But I’m afraid it will not be possible.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I crossed my arms. ‘And why is that?’

‘The content is simply too mature,’ Father Hughes said. ‘May I remind you that some of our students are only thirteen years old?’

‘And a thirteen-year-old is too young to say vagina?’ I balked. ‘A thirteen-year-old came OUT of a vagina thirteen years ago!’

‘Parents entrust us with students in their formative years, and St Mary’s takes that responsibility very seriously. Which means strictly scrutinizing any content featuring inappropriate language or sexual situations.’

‘Vagina doesn’t necessarily equal sex,’ I informed him. ‘Vaginas are for lots of other things! Vaginas are for giving birth, for the miracle of birth! Vaginas are for …’

Smuggling drugs? Okay, not a great example.

‘Besides,’ I continued, ‘whatever happened to the First Amendment? You may think I don’t listen in US history, but I know I have the right to free speech.’

There! I sat back in the green leather chair in triumph. No way even Father Hughes could fight that one. Sure, the dude isn’t cool enough to have Hamilton memorized, but he knows that free speech is a basic, unalienable right of all human beings – even human beings in frozen Catholic teen exile.