Three Rs

 At St. Patrick’s School a solid educational foundation was provided by four dedicated nuns who had the inexhaustible patience to teach two grades in the same room. Eight grades were taught in four classrooms, located on the ground floor. An auditorium occupied the building’s entire top floor. We were thoroughly schooled in the three Rs with a couple of others (respect and responsibility) skillfully woven into the curriculum.

The auditorium’s double door entrance was on the first floor and in the center of the building. Inside the entrance was a foyer and a wide flagstone stairway, with highly polished brass railings, that led to the second floor vestibule. The opening from the vestibule into the auditorium was decorated in red velvet that was tied back and trimmed with gold braid. A light silver and gold wallpaper complimented the deep red velvet of the auditorium’s stage curtains and window drapes. Coatrooms, bathrooms, a large fully equipped kitchen, and a movie projection room were located in the rear.

When I was in the lower grades, the boy’s lavatory was inside the building, and its entrance was from the outside. During cold and snowy winters a trip to the bathroom was more like a journey to the frozen tundra of the north. Before leaving the classroom I struggled to pull on clumsy goulashes, button a bulky winter coat, and tie the fleece lined flaps of an aviator hat snugly around my ears. I then trudged through snowdrifts and slipped on ice covered walks and steps before reaching the lavatory door. Once inside I hastily threw off my outer clothing, zipped down my fly and stood motionless in front of the cold marble urinal anticipating the relief that I requested of the Sister some twenty minutes earlier.  Because of the cold it took several minutes of watching and waiting before my bodily function was complete. The buttoning of the overcoat and tying of the fleece-lined hat was repeated before my return to the classroom. Thankfully, by the time I reached the seventh grade an inside bathroom entrance was finally built.

Each morning, the principal rang her hand bell twice. On the first volley we lined up outside the school building, maintaining complete silence as she and the other nuns made a visual inspection of their students. At the second group of ding-dongs we marched to our respective classrooms where the first order of business was the pledge of allegiance to the American Flag and morning prayers. Besides saying the standard number of Our Father’s and Hail Mary’s, we also prayed for sick and deceased parishioners.

During the World War II years we said special prayers for our countries service men and for peace. When local men were killed in action, the entire student body marched in formation to St. Patrick’s church where prayers and a mass were said for the repose of their immortal souls. It was particularly sad making the trip for Joe Wallace who was only eighteen years old and the brother of Robert, my close classmate. The walk
to the church was like a solemn procession. No one spoke. We all had our thoughts. Mine were about the war and how it hurt my friend and his family. I had heard radio reports and read comic books that showed pictures of guns blasting, airplanes crashing, and ships sinking. In my mind the pictures and stories were only make believe. When Robert’s brother perished on a P T boat in the south pacific waters, the war became real.

My fond memories are of Sister Mary Louis. She was warm and sensitive. A no nonsense individual who, with gusto, taught her fifth and sixth grade students. Whenever she spoke about her parents and siblings the importance of family values was evident.

Through her we began to understand the meaning of the word responsibility and what putting the word into action really meant. Her plan to improve the deplorable condition of the schoolyard was dependent upon the involvement of the schoolchildren and their parents. Under her direction we spent Saturday mornings pulling weeds, shoveling and removing wheelbarrows of stones, and raking the grounds. Because she
carried out her commitment, the school and community were able to enjoy the refurbished grounds for
many years.

She followed the group approach to solving a problem while at the same time teaching her students an important lesson. If she sensed that the class did not, in general, comprehend the subject matter we were all kept after school for an additional review.  She impressed upon us the importance of understanding the material being discussed before moving on to the next sections and chapters of the textbook.

Upon her death it was written in “The Franciscan Sisters of Peace” newsletter that, “Sister Mary Louis had the enviable talent of spreading sunshine wherever she went. Always self-giving and young of heart she cared so much for people. Her sensitivity to other people’s feelings always came through. It’s small wonder that she was the favorite teacher of so many students!” I’ll add an “Amen” to that.

The cleaning of the school was done by the older children under the supervision of the good Sisters. Each day classrooms were swept, blackboards washed, and lavatories sanitized. Small brushes, dustpans, and long handled push brooms were our sweeping tools. While on our knees we swept the dust from underneath all of the classroom desks. Each Friday afternoon similar cleaning details were deployed at the church.
Again the nuns supervised while we cleaned every pew with our hand held brush and dustpan.

Even back in those days the good sisters recognized the need for occupational training. When early spring approached it signaled the beginning of shad fishing on the Hudson River. The back rows of the seventh and eighth grade classroom were set aside for the knitting of shad nets by a few students who worked as buoy boys on the fishing boats.

Using special thread and specially designed knitting needles Yadabo Crawford and Bernie Mackey, were the most proficient thirteen-year old shad net knitting practitioners in our town. They weaved their nets with the dexterity and expertise of the town’s finest quilt makers. Sister Xavier, impressed with their talents, often incorporated the knitting process into her mathematical problems. In addition, this creative
activity provided the students a first hand knowledge of an important Hudson River commercial endeavor.

All through grammar school Big Joe McGuire sure did keep us in stitches with his antics. One day in Sister Xavier’s seventh and eighth grade classroom he blew up a huge oblong shaped balloon and released it from the back of the room. On it were the black and orange stripes of a tiger. The projectile made the sound of a buzz bomb as it whooshed towards the ceiling and through the light fixtures. It zigged, zagged, dove and climbed from one side of the classroom or the other. As it streaked past the Sister, who was sitting stunned and confused behind her hard wood desk, she jolted her head causing her eyeglasses to fly from her face. The Sister’s airborne object further prolonged the frenzied and hilarious state of the classroom. The whole episode lasted about fifteen seconds but it took the Sister a lot longer to settle her class down. Like caged monkeys we jumped up and down and made all sorts of weird sounds while she repeatedly slammed her metal tipped pointing stick on the surface of her desk, for attention.

For his punishment Big Joe was expelled for a few days. He suffered untold pain passing his time by fishing and trapping muskrat in the brook that ran behind Pig Pen Hill.

In the 1960s, because of increased enrollment, the school’s auditorium was converted into classrooms. Years of upward spiraling costs, however, forced the school to close in 1991.

The important things about life were taught to me by my parents and the wonderful Franciscan Sisters of Saint Patrick’s School. I salute and thank all of those dedicated women who, so many years ago, pledged their lives for the betterment of mine.