So for the great crime of playing with yo yo's behind the school we were sentenced to months of lost recess while we struggled with the Promethean task of understanding why all those school rules were so important. We would watch our classmates rush out to the classroom while we settled into our task. Eventually our incarceration created a stronger bond between us. Ideas were shared and "very very very very important" became a standard lead in to rules we tried to justify. We pushed the limits of bad writing just to regain our freedom.
Eventually, several months later, we had finished our essays. Like many of my school punishments, I failed to learn the lesson Sister Mary No Fun had in mind. No, it actually made me question many of the rules that seemed to exist for no apparent reason other than that somebody thought it was a good idea. To this day I can find no rhyme or reason for why I should tuck my shirt in, take off my hat inside (hat hair anybody?), or not wear open toed shoes. Wasn't the world conquered at one time by men wearing sandals?
Another memorable encounter with strange rules occurred when I walked across the grass instead of on the asphalt sidewalk to get back into the building. The head Sister Mary No Fun observed this sin from her office. I was immediately summoned to her office where I endured her feeble efforts at giving me a hack. I still attribute the many times I endured corporal punishment to my interest in yoga in later life. I just got used to all those forward bends!
Some rules of the institution certainly made sense. To this day I do not run with scissors but I seldom tuck in my shirts or wear regular shoes. I walk across the grass whenever possible and often barefoot if it's warm enough. I still fail to appreciate the infallible bishop of Rome's fascination with sin, crime and punishment.
But despite the bizarre rules and curious, primitive and archaic rituals of Catholic school, what sticks most in my consciousness is that boys were taught and supervised by females. Public schools, at the elementary level, remain a bastion of female authority. There is nothing inherently wrong with this other than an issue of balance. Too often the only male authority young boys encounter in grade school are coaches and principals.
The coaches are the fun people. They represent action, adventure and challenge. The principal serves as a a "wait until your father gets home" anachronism. The teachers represent long hours in a desk learning stuff that often seems irrelevant in the mind of a boy.
to be continued
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