God reached out to me there when I was 3 & 1/2 yrs old. So I already knew Him when I showed up for 1st grade catechism. I'm looking in the book at a picture of a man in a white robe with long hair & a beard, children running toward him smiling & laughing. I look up and all the priests are closely barbered and I couldn't tell if the nuns even had any hair, lol. They are all in scary black and the kids are scared to death of them.
So in 4th grade when they tried to "teach" me transubstantiation, every classical objection naturally occurred to me. Poor nun had no defenses against my relentless objections until finally the recess bell rang. She was saved by the bell, lol. On my way out I jumped in front of Father Blackwell, the new young priest (still friendly) that everyone liked, so I could get a more candid answer by being swift with the surprise of it. I think I actualy raised my finger at him as I asked him, "Do you REALLY believe: the wine turns to blood, the bread turns to flesh?"
He came to attention, raised his chin, tilting his head back, and he looked in a swoon. His eyes rolled up as they closed and he rapturously exclaimed, "Yes!"
I step aside saying, "Thank you." and walked outside realizing just how out of touch with reality they all were, and that I was going to have to learn to keep my head down until I was old enough to walk away.
In 6th grade, my teacher had said I was either going to be a priest or a politician. I remember saying nothing, but thinking, "I'd rather just dig ditches and make an honest living." lol