Growing up Catholic
Growing Up Catholic
Like many of my fellow ‘bloggers’, I grew up Catholic. What I have learned is that every Catholic, whether they are devout, recovered, ex-communicated, unwillingly observant, or a Holiday attender - share with millions of other Catholics, the many undeniable marks of their upbringing.
In Ashtabula, Ohio, at St. Joseph Pre/Elementary/Middle School, the nuns ran a very tight ship and were ruthless with their rulers! If you didn’t do your homework, lied to your parents, wore your shirt anywhere above the knee cap. you would meet with certain damnation when it was your turn at the Pearly Gates.
We learned about Venial and Mortal sins. Venial sins were the lesser of the two, murder, arson, terrorism and the like. But talk back to a nun, and you have just committed a Mortal sin! It was an eternal fall from grace. You were sure to burn in the deepest recesses of hell.
Today, many schools are making the students wear uniforms. This is to discourage gang wear and to keep a semblance of order. In my day we wore uniforms for a different reason. We didn’t have gangs in our schools. The nuns would have scared the living crap out of them. And you didn’t dare have attitude with them. If you did, it would have been the last time you had feeling in your hands!
They were like their own little Mafia and you always knew which one was the Don. It was always the oldest of the nuns. She was the one that you had to give a light shake every once in a while to make she was still breathing because they don’t retire. They pass away at their desks peacefully. Nobody got in her way, not the other nuns and not even the Priests, who we knew secretly pitied us!
Talking is what always got me into trouble. Catholic schoolchildren are not allowed to talk. You couldn’t talk at lunch, mass, in the bathrooms, in class or during fire drills. Nope, they wanted silence - with one exception: when you pray. And pray we did. I still can recite the entire Catholic Mass - word for word. I also know tens of thousands of prayers. That was the only time we were actually ALLOWED to talk.
When we wrote, it was ruler straight with a margin measured to exactly 1 inch and a half with a neat line delineating the top. Our books were always covered in a precise manner (you never, NEVER use unapproved book covers) and we had blue pens that looked like the kind you dip in ink. They were also good for the nuns to poke you with if your handwriting ever went outside the 1 and ½ inch margin!
My teenagers think I make all this stuff up. Truth is, there are thousands of Catholic school codes I could write about that would make you laugh, or cry!! Yes, we are indelibly marked in some way, small or large by our experiences being raised in the Catholic schools. It also affects how we raise our own children, whether intentional or not. I don’t regret it, because a lot of good did come from being in a place with such structure and discipline. And the stories, well they are priceless!!!!
Like many of my fellow ‘bloggers’, I grew up Catholic. What I have learned is that every Catholic, whether they are devout, recovered, ex-communicated, unwillingly observant, or a Holiday attender - share with millions of other Catholics, the many undeniable marks of their upbringing.
In Ashtabula, Ohio, at St. Joseph Pre/Elementary/Middle School, the nuns ran a very tight ship and were ruthless with their rulers! If you didn’t do your homework, lied to your parents, wore your shirt anywhere above the knee cap. you would meet with certain damnation when it was your turn at the Pearly Gates.
We learned about Venial and Mortal sins. Venial sins were the lesser of the two, murder, arson, terrorism and the like. But talk back to a nun, and you have just committed a Mortal sin! It was an eternal fall from grace. You were sure to burn in the deepest recesses of hell.
Today, many schools are making the students wear uniforms. This is to discourage gang wear and to keep a semblance of order. In my day we wore uniforms for a different reason. We didn’t have gangs in our schools. The nuns would have scared the living crap out of them. And you didn’t dare have attitude with them. If you did, it would have been the last time you had feeling in your hands!
They were like their own little Mafia and you always knew which one was the Don. It was always the oldest of the nuns. She was the one that you had to give a light shake every once in a while to make she was still breathing because they don’t retire. They pass away at their desks peacefully. Nobody got in her way, not the other nuns and not even the Priests, who we knew secretly pitied us!
Talking is what always got me into trouble. Catholic schoolchildren are not allowed to talk. You couldn’t talk at lunch, mass, in the bathrooms, in class or during fire drills. Nope, they wanted silence - with one exception: when you pray. And pray we did. I still can recite the entire Catholic Mass - word for word. I also know tens of thousands of prayers. That was the only time we were actually ALLOWED to talk.
When we wrote, it was ruler straight with a margin measured to exactly 1 inch and a half with a neat line delineating the top. Our books were always covered in a precise manner (you never, NEVER use unapproved book covers) and we had blue pens that looked like the kind you dip in ink. They were also good for the nuns to poke you with if your handwriting ever went outside the 1 and ½ inch margin!
My teenagers think I make all this stuff up. Truth is, there are thousands of Catholic school codes I could write about that would make you laugh, or cry!! Yes, we are indelibly marked in some way, small or large by our experiences being raised in the Catholic schools. It also affects how we raise our own children, whether intentional or not. I don’t regret it, because a lot of good did come from being in a place with such structure and discipline. And the stories, well they are priceless!!!!
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