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I often brag that I went to Catholic School until I was twenty years old.  I attended a Catholic High School and a Catholic College, but my most vivid memories are of  Catholic Elementary School. And the Sisters who taught us.

The nuns were not above using corporal punishment. If you hadn’t memorized your multiplication tables, or your wrist wasn’t straight when you practiced your penmanship (or you were attempting to write with your left hand), or you were caught passing a note, or you were brave enough to answer in a sassy tone, you might get whacked with a ruler. But you didn’t dare tell your parents. If you told your parents, there was a very good chance that you would be whacked again. Most parents were always on the side of the Sisters.

The Sisters taught all subjects in their classrooms, although not with equal passion. There was the Baltimore Catechism, endless questions about God and the Church.

We had to memorize the answers verbatim and then spit them back. In English Grammar, we learned the parts of speech and their cases by diagramming. I still cringe when I hear people say, “Lois and me went for pizza”. (Of course, it should be Lois and I, the subject of the sentence takes a nominative pronoun.) Or a common sentence, “I feel badly.” (No, it should be “I feel bad”. Feel is a copulative verb, which takes an adjective, not an adverb.)

When I became an elementary school teacher, I tried to include diagramming in my lessons. But I was told not to bother, since grammar wasn’t part of the curriculum. Students would learn how to speak by reading, or by merely listening. Because bad grammar just doesn’t sound right.

Really?

We practiced a lot to make sure we were safe in an emergency situation. (Lock downs were unheard of. We were not afraid of local people. Instead we were terrified of Russia.) We were taught how to crouch under our desks in case the Communists rained bombs on elementary schools. Fire drills were frequent, especially after the horrific blaze at Our Lady of the Angels in Chicago, which took the life of 94 children and three nuns.

A rumor which spread rapidly (as rapidly at the frequent head lice) was the prediction from Our Lady of Fatima. The world was scheduled to end in 1960, so we prepared for our eminent demise by praying with the familiar Stand, Turn and Kneel.

We prayed a lot – every time we heard a siren (I still do), before and after meals, at the beginning of the day, when we would recite the Ten Commandments, and at the end of the day.

We were endlessly intrigued by the dour black habits, which the nuns were forced to wear. We wondered what lay under their starch white bibs. Their hands would emerge with all sorts of things from the deep pockets, a watch, an endless supply of handkerchiefs, rosary beads. We would sneak peeks at their laundry, which was hung outside the convent on the cloth line. And did they have any hair at all?

A lot of the nuns were crabby. (I wonder how many of them really wanted to be teachers, although when I was growing up the choices for females were limited to teaching and to nursing.) My kindergarten teacher used to put rambunctious children in a cardboard box and move it around, telling them that she was sending them overseas. (The boys actually looked forward to this adventure and were disappointed when they arrived back in the classroom). My third grade teacher hung all the flunking marks on the bulletin board, in an effort to shame us. My seventh grade teacher made me wear gum on my nose all day, when I was caught chewing.

But they were also capable of great kindness. The second grade Sister would give out delicious baked goods as prizes instead of the usual holy pictures. My sixth grade teacher let me sing a solo in the church choir, even though I could hardly carry a tune. And the eighth grade nun allowed students to do their book reports on my badly written little mystery novels.

The nuns weren’t perfect teachers, but a lot of that was a reflection of the times. No one recognized learning issues. If you didn’t catch on, you weren’t trying hard enough. Or you were just plain stupid. You were expected to memorize and then recite it back, even if you didn’t fully understand one word of what you were saying.

Today the schools are student oriented, as they should be. In spite of everything, I feel I got a great education. I not only learned a good command of the English language, but more importantly, the Sisters tried to instill in their students, a strong moral compass and a firm value system.

I hope I haven’t disappointed them.

Image: Congregation of Sisters of St. Joseph in Canada [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons