On Point

Old school habits

By: Linda McCarthy
   This time of year always gets my stomach in a knot. Ever since I was a kid I hated the summer to end. I was a good student but school was not for me. Of course that was in the good old days. I went to a Catholic school run by the Sisters of Mercy. Which was at that particular time and place –– no offense to the religious order –– it was a complete misnomer.
   The sisters had zero tolerance for bad behavior and corporal punishment was as common as the kid in the back eating paste. They made a habit (no pun intended) of utilizing kid power for cheap labor. We did everything from picking up garbage in the schoolyard to ironing bloomers in the convent basement. Smart-mouthed eighth grade boys would wind up mowing the rectory lawn and tarring the gym roof. My classmates and I counted bingo cards, clipped coupons and decorated bulletin boards. We stripped palm for Easter and polished the brass candlesticks for Christmas.
   I also was chosen to clean the faculty room every day after lunch. I took my time to get out of math, smoked the rest of their cigarettes and nibbled on the cookies they left behind. My mother was paying good money for my dish pan hands.
   The kids I went to school with were all poor and many had little adult supervision. This made them fun and creative.
   The whole school attended mass every first Friday. In the good old days girls were required to wear a head covering in church. I never had my uniform beanie and I always forgot the back-up chapel veil. Consequently, I sat in the pew with a tissue bobby pinned to my head. Very attractive.
   My eighth grade teacher had a clicker in the shape of a frog. At mass she would signal when it was time to stand, kneel or sit. Apparently these little clickers were available in the local drug store because during one mass there were about nine different kids signaling instructions. It looked like we were doing the wave. The sisters were furious.
   Before one of these little trips to church my friend picked field onions and stuck them in the heating vent. After and hour and a half in a closed up room the smell permeated the halls and brought tears to everyone eyes.
   One nun was particularly lacking in the Mercy department. She was ancient and downright mean. We crazy glued everything to her desk and took the dinger out of the bell she continually rang in an attempt to restore order. I’m glad I wasn’t absent that day.
   We told her there was a mouse in the back of the room. There wasn’t. At 83 years old she jumped on a chair and stayed perched there until the maintenance man came to rescue her. I still feel guilty about that one. She was in such a panic her veil fell off.
   The sisters took tough love to new heights. I pictured them sitting around the table at night plotting ways to retaliate. If you were caught chewing gum it wound up on your nose, if you were lucky. Sometimes it would end up in your hair; at the scalp. They would randomly have us kneel in the hallway to see if our skirts touched the floor. On more than one occasion you could hear the words, "cheap, common and vulgar" echoing though the halls.
   All in all I wouldn’t trade a thing. They taught us to laugh at adversity and deal with reality: invaluable life lessons I still use today.
   Linda McCarthy resides in Robbinsville with her husband and three children.