"Aw man, we have Hunter's Education today," I said at the lunch table while quickly stuffing my mouth full of barely cooked chicken nuggets. To me, Hunter's Education meant listening to two half-brained, obese, greasy men talk about something about which I could care less. It meant another portion of my life wasted on activities that do not relate to me. I thought that the class would just be an easy "A." Little did I know that this class would affect my way of thinking for the rest of my life.
I went into the class, picked a seat in the back row, and got ready for a nice nap, when one of the "teachers" handed out the textbooks. I leafed through the book, glanced at the different ways to skin a rabbit and thought that it was slightly gruesome. But I realized that I had seen horror movies that were worse than that. I sat there and listened to the men rattle on about how important Hunter Education was for us "young people."
Then came the movies. They were filled with the merciless slaughter of every animal. They were talked about as if they were toys, pieces of meaningless plastic and not actual living breathing animals. Even that did not bother me as much as one would think. After a full day of reminiscing about that class, I got home, and it hit me all at once. The tears flowed out of my eyes. I couldn't believe that I had actually sat through that class. I couldn't believe that there were actually people out there who felt the same way these men did. I couldn't believe the propaganda they were trying to fill our heads with!
As the days went by, I still went to the class, albeit a little more hesitant than the day before. I would make up excuses to leave the class as much as possible, yet I still conformed and didn't do anything to drop the class. Once I actually got up the nerve and asked one of the men, "How could hunters murder animals like they do?" They simply replied, "Do you like hamburgers? Cows, chickens, deer--they're all the same." That really got me thinking. Through my now nightly tears, I would ask myself if meat was worth eating, or if eating meat was going against my newly stated beliefs. The answer was yes.
The last day of class arrived. My anger and rebellion against the class was at its peak. I cringed at the mere thought of it and was quite relieved that it would be finally over. This torment, this hell that I had been through would finally end! I got my certificate and my hunter's license and immediately tore them up and put them in the trashcan. That felt so good. I was so happy to finally rebel against the horrid class. But at night I still cried. I was so incredibly angry with myself for allowing myself to sit there and listen to the men. I was angry because I didn't throw a fit and refuse to be in the class. I conformed. I sat there and listened to everything they said. I went against my own beliefs. My own beliefs.
--Starza was 13 when this took place, and today she is a devout vegan. Read her article A Day in the Life of a Teenage Vegetarian.
