I think the May crowning convinced Sister Alberta that she
was really dealing with a pack of demons and subversives. Things went from bad
to worse for all of us as the school year was drawing to a close. Sister Lucy
was shoved a little harder as Sister Alberta yelled "PLAY!", the already devout
but hungry Paul Shennos ate his homemade scones with a touch of indigestion,
while Sister watched him and shook her head. She watched Hipsy closely every
time the poor thing walked in between the desks, just waiting for her full skirt
to do more damage. The talk of serpents in the classroom became an everyday
disussion as the asthmatic Jane Burd tried in vain to breathe normally. Donald
was busier than ever opening and closing the door about a hundred times a day,
and Sister was more prone than ever to fly off the handle.
Lots of Catholic school survivors tell stories about how
they'd get in trouble in school, and when their parents found out, they'd be in
double trouble. My family had a different take on that. When my mother was in
the seventh grade, Sister Constancia (red flag....scary name) told the class not
to hem and haw if they didn't know an answer, but instead they should just say "
I don't know". My mother took her at her word, and when she was asked something,
my mother replied that she didn't know the answer. Sister responded my cracking
her. My mother promptly gathered up her things and went home and her mother made
a phone call. Later that day Sister Constancia and another nun (they always
traveled in pairs) came to the house and apologized. Like mother like
son.
One hot morning in June, when all of the nuns in the building
must have been ready to tear their wimples off from the heat, Sister Alberta
turned on my quiet, always under the radar, girlfriend Barbara. Whatever she had
done struck Barbara as unusually funny. Sister was in no mood for shenanigans
that day, and started to refer to Barbara as a "monkey". (now as I just typed
that word, I had to chuckle ). For some reason that STILL makes me laugh. Well
that's just what happened on that summer day, and Sister Alberta went nuts. She
flew down the aisle of laughers as the desk lids rose for protection and started
to beat me up. It felt sort of like being attacked by a giant crow or
something...arms flying, black and white all over me. Quick as a flash I grabbed
my books and stood up...heading for the door. " Wetfeld...get the
principal"...as the race began. Somehow she made it to the door before I did and
stretched her arms out to block my exit. Just then my friend Jeff who sat near
the front of the room yelled something that I'm sure may have already taken him
to Hell. Sister Alberta whirled around to pounce on him, and Ray yelled "RUN ! "
and quick as a flash I was gone.
I took a leisurely walk home, even stopped at Greasy Nick's
for a coke, and arrived to find my Mom immediately on alert. "Did she hit you?"
she snapped.
"Yep...because I laughed when she called Barbara a monkey"
(smile again).
My Dad must have come home for lunch that day, because the two
of them were on their way to the school very quickly. My mother says that they
met with the culprit and the principal in the office, where Sister Alberta sat
like a sweet little old lady with her hands in her lap. My mother still
remembers that when Sister said " your son and I had a little falling out this
morning" my mother had the urge to push her off her chair. (honest). Apologies
followed of course, the principal confiding that they'd had "a lot of
complaints".
I returned the next morning and was treated like the Golden
Boy. I was praised for my musical skills, ignored when I'd laugh, and must have
represented the final link between the classroom and the old nun's home. We all
did graduate...even Ray who refused to bring a duster, and my final report card
was a complete shock. Prior to our little "falling out". my grades were always
kinda borderline, c's, a b or two, and "needs improvement" in all the social
categories. I graduated that year with a perfect record. Straight A's..all "very
goods", all a result of the monkey incident. Of course I was then placed in the
highest level freshman class that Fall...with all the real brains from the
parishes that fed into our High School, and was totally lost.
To say that my eighth grade experiences were memorable is an
understatement....obviously. We had a 25 year reunion, and a great turn out
several years ago. We talked and laughed until four in the morning, and after a
few cocktails I disappeared and returned in a nun's habit that I'd made,
carrying a yardstick and a cane. There was a quick moment of absolute
shock..(terror?) as I began barking for Wetfeld to open the door....I swear he
started to jump.
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