A Product of the Devil

OK, back at school, remember I'm still in first grade.

My memory of this first year of school is filled both with hope and fear. HOPE in making new friends, so as not to feel so alone anymore. FEAR of those nuns who wear all black outfits except for their 'bib' of white that goes around their neck. (I actually used to wonder how they ate and never got their 'bib' dirty).

Those nuns were very sadistic rulers of the school both in the schoolyard and classroom. They hid rulers (there's that word again!) in the depths of their black dresses that flowed from their neck to their toes. They also had 'clickers' in one of their pockets. I lived in fear of the ruler.

It wasnt't more than a few weeks into school. Sitting at my desk doing my classwork I felt someone watching me from behind. Now, I was a smart child. My mom told me that I was reading books at 18 months of age. Actually, I had memorized the books I loved most, but I very much impressed my aunts and friends of my mom as I would read away without missing a word!!!

Anyway, that chilly feeling over my shoulder made me so uncomfortable that I turned around. There stood Sister Something (I can't remember her name). She didn't look happy. Actually, she never looked happy. I just stared at her and she made a funny move with her mouth like she ate something very sour. Then she said to me in a very loud voice "Hold out your hands". So, I put my pencil down and did as she said. You always had to obey the nuns.

Out came the ruler and cracked down on my hands - across my nuckles. I moved my hands to my face and cried out in pain. She made me put my hands out again and hit them one more time. Then I began to cry.

"YOU ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE DEVIL", she yelled at me. "Pick up your pencil with your right hand". But I tried to tell her that I did not write with that hand. I was a lefty. Just like my dad. "Pick up your pencil with your other hand", she said again. So I did. "Now write", she said. And I did. And I cried again.

This cracking of the nuckles went on for some time. Maybe a few weeks - can't remember. Finally, after hearing Sister Something yell at me over and over, I told my mother.

My mother, thank heaven, came into school with me and spoke with the Sister Superior. From that time on, Sister Something never bothered me with her ruler. But I could tell she held the utmost contempt for me. I could fee it through my being.

This began my love/hate relationship with school. This also began my love/hate relationship with God.