As the first few weeks of school unfolded the battle lines became
frighteningly clear. Our eighth grade became divided into three groups...the
meek and humble victims who sat in shock and awe....the "laughers" or "mockers",
who, early on were herded into about three rows together and told to open their
desk tops and hide there heads inside whenever they felt the urge to laugh,
chuckle, or howl....and the wildly unpredictable Sister Alberta. I say
unpredictable because of my crystal clear memory of several of her most
memorable moments. My friend Paul was a saintly young man even then, and
actually ended up some sort of a cloistered monk (the "cloistered part was
undoubtedly due to some PTSD that Sister was responsible for ).
Now all of you members of the true church will remember that when receiving
Communion, one had to fast from midnight the night before, so when we attended
Mass every morning before school, anyone who went to Communion would then be
permitted to bring their breakfast to the classroom and enjoy showing off their
holiness to the rest of the class. Paul never missed Communion, and also never
brought anything but a gourmet breakfast in a very large lunchbox. Paul's
sainted mother packed him little fruit cups, cereal with a jar of milk with
waxed paper on top, delicious looking muffins..the whole nine yards. Sister
loved Paul,,,held him up as a contrast to people like me...and besides calling
for applause for him regularly, she doted on him.
Until one dark day when she turned on him. I never did know what his
offense was, but suddenly she stood towering over him and bellowed " Just look
at him..".EAT EAT EAT EAT EAT" Poor Paul almost choked on his croissant. From
then on he trembled with each bite of his deviled egg.
My experiences of Sister's inexplicable mood changes came about because I
played the organ for the girls choir rehearsals. Sister Evarista directed that
group of robotic little girls, and Sister Alberta directed the boys choir. There
was bad blood from the get go. I would be called out of class several afternoons
a week for the choir, and Sister generally liked the idea. If she was in a
reasonably sane mood, she would say things like.."Now isn't it nice to see that
boy use his talents this way"....or "the rest of you should learn to do
something useful like that boy does". Of course when the other shoe fell I often
hear her say "show-off" as I exited the classroom.
One of the most destructive turns of the screw undoubtedly was her episode
with Jean Gibbon. Jean was a shy import from the public school who joined us
around October. I remember her as a Janis Ian type...not part of any group, very
self-conscious, not pretty...always under the radar. When Sister asked for us to
volunteer our mothers to make something for the choir boy party, Jean
uncharacteristically said that her mother would make taffy apples...24 of them.
Well BINGO..Jean was the new golden girl. As the date for the party approached
everything was Jean Jean Jean...applause was often ringing in the ears of
this newly crowned queen of the classroom. It was however, short-lived. The big
day arrived and Jean arrived empty handed and loaded with excuses. All hell
broke loose that day. For the rest of the year she was tortured...called "hipsy
Gibbon" when she brushed against a desk and knocked the pencils off, glared at
when words such as "liar" or "ruin" came up, and forever held up as an example
of failure. Jean vanished after we graduated...probably off the face of the
earth...disgraced forever.
The only thing that ever saved one of us was the explosion that always
lurked around the corner, and people like Paul and Jane were often saved by the
next crisis. In one such case right after lunch Sister Alberta came storming
into the classroom, turned off the lights, told us to be very quiet, and
commanded Witfeld to silently sneak out the door and "crawl on your belly if
necessary" to the rectory..and "tell Father McDough that there is a young wolf
in the playground". I think it was Paul who said softly that what she was seeing
was a lab that belonged to one of the kids, he was quickly dismissed, and we
were told that we might have to remain in the classroom far into the night until
the wolf was destroyed. The desk lids went up as we laughers tried to be quiet,
and the rest of the class was told to duck down while the window shades were
drawn. Can you imagine what it was like when your Mom and Dad would say "How was
school today?" ?
No comments:
Post a Comment