School Days

“School days, so they tell us, are the most sublime of our lives.  We’ll have the time of our lives.  It’s the absolute prime of our lives.” 
– Words from School Days from Goodbye Mr. Chips

It’s that time of year when school is just beginning, so I thought I’d recall some memories from my own school days.  This story is from my Nativity days (my Catholic grade school, Nativity BVM, Media).  I won’t run on about all the snatches of memories from life at Nativity – okay, I can’t resist sharing just a few… Sr. Saint Lucille’s jingling keys, choir practice, the stink bomb tree in the girls’ playground, my science fair project on Willie, my hamster.

But this post is actually about the time I got in trouble.  Hard to believe, I know, but I actually got yelled at by Monsignor Kelly.  It can still bring butterflies to my stomach.

Here’s what happened… my friend Emily and I were sent by Sister Marie Patrice to go over to the church to pick up some booklets she had left in one of the pews.  The church was just a block away from school, and it was a nice day outside so it was quite lovely to get outside for a quick walk. 

When we arrived at church, we heard voices inside, so Emily and I stepped quietly into the cool, dark, imposing interior (this was before they painted the church that cheery blue – it used to be beautifully painted with gold angels and all the apostles).  As it turned out, morning Mass was still going on – Monsignor Kelly was on the alter saying the prayers of the Consecration. 

I leaned over and whispered to Emily, “Sister said they were in the front on the Saint Joseph side of church – let’s just go sit in a pew until Mass is over.”  Immediately Monsignor’s voice boomed out – “You girls sit yourselves down and come see me in the sacristy after church.”  Yikes!

You have to know that Monsignor wasn’t exactly a friendly figure.  He was a big guy, ancient (to us) and grandfatherly, but kind-of grumpy.  And he had this huge boxer dog that he often brought with him, even to school.  And I didn’t particularly like big dogs, especially not slobbery boxers.  He was a pretty scary guy to a fourth-grader.  And if you know me, you know how I hated getting in trouble!

After Mass was over, a nice older woman asked us if we knew where the sacristy was and pointed us in the direction of the door to the left of the altar.  She had a gentle voice, but I was still scared and probably already in tears. I don’t think I had ever been inside the altar rails, no less in that secret sacristy. 

I don’t remember what Monsignor said to us.  I spent the whole time nervously pulling up my socks, first my left, then my right, then my left again, then my right again, then my left again.  I can still remember looking at my feet and socks, never looking up to Monsignor’s face. In tears, I told Monsignor that we were asked by Sister to pick up some booklets.   After chastising us about talking in church, he sent us on our way with dire warnings to never do that again.

Poor Emily and me!  Not only did we get in trouble with the Monsignor, the pastor of our church, the guy in charge of everything, but then we couldn’t find the booklets we had been sent for!  We walked back to school worriedly, but agreed not to tell Sister that we had gotten in trouble.  Best to put it behind us.

After lunch, Sister called Emily and me into the hallway.  In her quiet way, she asked us what had happened when we went to church that morning.  Monsignor must have called her!  We liked Sister, so we weren’t really afraid to tell her.  And Mrs. Wells, another teacher standing nearby, seemed to think it was highly amusing.  “Catherine got in trouble…” she taunted in a sing-song voice. 

Sister Marie Patrice wasn’t mad either.  She just said, “Do me a favor, and if you ever get in trouble with Monsignor Kelly again, please just don’t mention my name.”