A Catechist's First Year: A Spiritual Adventure!
When I walked through the doors of the high school for the first time, I felt both excitement and apprehension. I knew that working with young people would be a challenge, but I had no idea how much this year would change me. The first day in a new role is always exciting, especially when it is your first time as a catechist at a high school. For me, the emotions were even stronger than I had anticipated. Being a religion teacher and a spiritual guide for young people is a profound responsibility, one that requires both commitment and openness to the needs of the young. So what does the first year in this role look like?
The first day at school was an emotional one. Meeting the students, who looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and quiet reserve, was a moment I will remember for a long time. I realised that a difficult but beautiful task lay before me—building mutual trust. As everyone knows, beginnings can be difficult. The first lesson, the first words, the first question, and a smile—and nothing in return. It was like talking to a brick wall. Another lesson, then the next—and still the same response. When I went to the staff room for a coffee, I spent a long time wondering whether there was something wrong with me. But I did not give up. I resolved in my heart that if God wanted me here, then I had to break through that wall, even if the door remained closed to me. I knew I was not doing this for my own ego, but for those who so often find themselves at odds with the Church.
Young people possess enormous energy and a desire to seek answers to life's most important questions. They want to understand who they are, where they are going, and which values matter most to them. My role was not only to teach them, but above all to accompany them in that search. Even if it sometimes felt like speaking to a lifeless audience, looking into eyes where you searched in vain for even a trace of life. Thankfully, it did not take long to discover in them that spark which, by the end of the year, had grown into a bright flame.
From the very beginning, I realised that the work of a catechist is far more than teaching lessons. I had to face all kinds of questions, which did not always have simple answers. Starting with the simplest and funniest ones, like: Do priests wear a cassock everywhere, or does every priest have to have a high forehead and glasses? Most often, however, the young people asked about difficult subjects—the meaning of suffering, faith in the face of doubt, human relationships, and the search for identity. These questions required deep reflection and openness, so that I could respond to their doubts honestly and in a way they could understand. After all, a sentence like "the transparency of transcendence in immanence" is, for them, like hearing a foreign language. To this day I remember explaining that concept using the image of water flowing from a tap (though I will spare you that "iconoclastic" explanation)—what matters is that the students grasped what their catechist meant. And, to my surprise, each and every one of them was later able to explain the phrase.
One of the challenges that proved crucial was understanding that young people need space to express their thoughts and feelings. In today's fast-paced world, full of constant activity and distractions, young people often feel lost. I had to learn to listen to them attentively and let them know that their voice matters and that it is welcome. I had only one rule in class, which even then turned out to be very difficult for many: if you are already here, then listen and ask questions. I am usually a calm person, but when someone starts mocking another person's questions, the storm within me awakens.
As the weeks passed, I noticed that the students were beginning to open up. These were small steps—first individual conversations after lessons, then questions during class, and finally joint initiatives, such as organising retreats or youth gatherings. I could see a bond developing between us, built on mutual understanding and trust. To this day, I remember my surprise when, in one lesson, I announced that we were about to discuss a rather unusual topic, and it ended up becoming the talk of the school. Word spread quickly around the school that Fr Adam was teaching a lesson on the morality of watching anime. Imagine my surprise when, during the last lessons of the day, students from completely different classes came to me during the break and, of their own accord, simply wanted to come and listen.
Particularly moving were the moments when students entrusted me with their personal struggles and dilemmas. It was then that I truly understood how important the role of a catechist is—not only as a teacher, but also as someone willing to accompany young people through the challenges of everyday life. I cannot adequately express how deeply moved I was by the words I heard while accompanying the final-year students on their pilgrimage to Kalwaria before their exams. After Mass, they came up to me and said the most beautiful words a teacher can hear: "Thank you for being a friend we can always count on."
Although the first year was full of challenges, it also brought me great joy. Nothing warms the heart more than seeing students become genuinely involved in the religious life of the school. The moment you realise that your words have touched someone's life is something that is difficult to put into words. I watched young people discover a deeper meaning in faith, seeking a relationship with God in their own way. For me, that is the greatest reward for all the effort I have put into this ministry.
You may be wondering whether I learned something as well. This year taught me humility and openness to others. I came to understand that being a catechist is not only about teaching, but above all about being close to young people who need support and guidance.
I also learned that sometimes the most important thing is simply to be present. You do not always have a ready answer to every question—sometimes it is enough simply to be there while a young person searches for their path. One thing that particularly struck me was this mindset: a catechist is someone who has eyes that see, ears that hear, and lips that remain silent. Young people do not want ready-made answers or sentimental words. Sometimes silence and simply being present become the beginning of an answer they eventually discover for themselves.
Working with young people is a constant lesson—for them and for me alike. I believe that together we can build something exceptional, something that will help all of us become better people.
Fr. Adam Płonka
The first day at school was an emotional one. Meeting the students, who looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and quiet reserve, was a moment I will remember for a long time. I realised that a difficult but beautiful task lay before me—building mutual trust. As everyone knows, beginnings can be difficult. The first lesson, the first words, the first question, and a smile—and nothing in return. It was like talking to a brick wall. Another lesson, then the next—and still the same response. When I went to the staff room for a coffee, I spent a long time wondering whether there was something wrong with me. But I did not give up. I resolved in my heart that if God wanted me here, then I had to break through that wall, even if the door remained closed to me. I knew I was not doing this for my own ego, but for those who so often find themselves at odds with the Church.
Young people possess enormous energy and a desire to seek answers to life's most important questions. They want to understand who they are, where they are going, and which values matter most to them. My role was not only to teach them, but above all to accompany them in that search. Even if it sometimes felt like speaking to a lifeless audience, looking into eyes where you searched in vain for even a trace of life. Thankfully, it did not take long to discover in them that spark which, by the end of the year, had grown into a bright flame.
From the very beginning, I realised that the work of a catechist is far more than teaching lessons. I had to face all kinds of questions, which did not always have simple answers. Starting with the simplest and funniest ones, like: Do priests wear a cassock everywhere, or does every priest have to have a high forehead and glasses? Most often, however, the young people asked about difficult subjects—the meaning of suffering, faith in the face of doubt, human relationships, and the search for identity. These questions required deep reflection and openness, so that I could respond to their doubts honestly and in a way they could understand. After all, a sentence like "the transparency of transcendence in immanence" is, for them, like hearing a foreign language. To this day I remember explaining that concept using the image of water flowing from a tap (though I will spare you that "iconoclastic" explanation)—what matters is that the students grasped what their catechist meant. And, to my surprise, each and every one of them was later able to explain the phrase.
One of the challenges that proved crucial was understanding that young people need space to express their thoughts and feelings. In today's fast-paced world, full of constant activity and distractions, young people often feel lost. I had to learn to listen to them attentively and let them know that their voice matters and that it is welcome. I had only one rule in class, which even then turned out to be very difficult for many: if you are already here, then listen and ask questions. I am usually a calm person, but when someone starts mocking another person's questions, the storm within me awakens.
As the weeks passed, I noticed that the students were beginning to open up. These were small steps—first individual conversations after lessons, then questions during class, and finally joint initiatives, such as organising retreats or youth gatherings. I could see a bond developing between us, built on mutual understanding and trust. To this day, I remember my surprise when, in one lesson, I announced that we were about to discuss a rather unusual topic, and it ended up becoming the talk of the school. Word spread quickly around the school that Fr Adam was teaching a lesson on the morality of watching anime. Imagine my surprise when, during the last lessons of the day, students from completely different classes came to me during the break and, of their own accord, simply wanted to come and listen.
Particularly moving were the moments when students entrusted me with their personal struggles and dilemmas. It was then that I truly understood how important the role of a catechist is—not only as a teacher, but also as someone willing to accompany young people through the challenges of everyday life. I cannot adequately express how deeply moved I was by the words I heard while accompanying the final-year students on their pilgrimage to Kalwaria before their exams. After Mass, they came up to me and said the most beautiful words a teacher can hear: "Thank you for being a friend we can always count on."
Although the first year was full of challenges, it also brought me great joy. Nothing warms the heart more than seeing students become genuinely involved in the religious life of the school. The moment you realise that your words have touched someone's life is something that is difficult to put into words. I watched young people discover a deeper meaning in faith, seeking a relationship with God in their own way. For me, that is the greatest reward for all the effort I have put into this ministry.
You may be wondering whether I learned something as well. This year taught me humility and openness to others. I came to understand that being a catechist is not only about teaching, but above all about being close to young people who need support and guidance.
I also learned that sometimes the most important thing is simply to be present. You do not always have a ready answer to every question—sometimes it is enough simply to be there while a young person searches for their path. One thing that particularly struck me was this mindset: a catechist is someone who has eyes that see, ears that hear, and lips that remain silent. Young people do not want ready-made answers or sentimental words. Sometimes silence and simply being present become the beginning of an answer they eventually discover for themselves.
Working with young people is a constant lesson—for them and for me alike. I believe that together we can build something exceptional, something that will help all of us become better people.
Fr. Adam Płonka
