Do you remember the aroma of Notre Dame?  It hit you hardest the first day back after summer vacation.  It was a peculiar mix of candles, coffee, lemon wax and, I think, old smelly tennis shoes.  One whiff and we knew we were back for another year.

 

Do you remember sitting in Sister Baptiste’s Latin class or Sister Patrick Ann’s Trig class and not understanding a damn thing that was going on?  Suddenly your body felt detached, and you were the only one in the entire universe. Everything and everyone else was merely a dream. Row, row, row your boat gently down…

 

Do you remember the regulations for our uniform – our signature so to speak?

1.  Navy blue, front pleated skirt must touch the floor when the teacher called for a “kneel-check.”  Do you think the teachers ever suspected that the mass exodus she experienced after inspection consisted of rolling, pinning, taping, and, yes, even stapling?

2.  Points of the white collar must match up with the points on our cuffs.

3.  Cuffs were to be worn at all times – even while wearing the oversized letter sweaters. Some of the girls in a fit of pure rebellion used those cuffs as…bookmarks!  Such rabble-rousers were not tolerated and sent immediately to the chapel where they could think about their transgressions while under the watchful eye of God, Himself.

4.  Leather shoes must be worn with white socks.  During PE white (and only white) tennis shoes must be worn with our ever-lovin,’ pantalooned gym suit. Would our kids die, or what?

 

Do you remember trying to join as many clubs as possible – GAA, CSMC, JLA, FNA, FHA, FTA – just so you could wear as many pins as possible on your collar, and others would think you were soooo popular.  By the way, what was the Fighting 69th, anyway?  There were never any meeting or officers, but we all belonged to it -just look at your year book Even if you did not belong to anything else, you belonged to the Fighting 69th.  I  vaguely remember signing a pledge card to uphold the 6th and 9th commandments, but, then and again, my card was terminated somewhere in my junior year. (Yes, this really was an organization and here are the pictures to prove it.

                                                  

 

Do you remember those dark, secret passages that led to the Yearbook room behind the old stage? Or, did you ever boldly go where no mortal man had gone before…the nun’s quarters? And just when you thought you knew every nook and cranny, a new staircase appeared leading to…no, stop, there were some places that I didn’t dare. Did you?

 

Do you remember retreat days?  I think they fell somewhere in February. Two or three days of peace, prayer, sacrifice and…no homework!  Par-tee time!  Now somewhere in those days you can bet that we had “thee” lecture – the one on keeping our virtue in tact.  There were certain rules one must follow so as not to put oneself in the Near Occasion Of  Sin (NOOS)  For instance, you could drive the boys wild by:

 

§    wearing white.  You see, the boy would automatically think of bed sheets and therefore sex and before you knew it would be all your fault for committing a NOOS.

§   wearing black patent shoes or even standing over a mud puddle because they both reflect…up.

§   Wearing pearls because, of course, they reflect…down.

 

Who knew it was so easy to drive young, nubile men into panting lust bunnies!  And then there was the Sin Of Omission (SOO).  That’s right, if you  omitted bringing your telephone book along on a date, it was clear case of SOO.  Well, you never knew when you might have to sit on boy’s lap! If you did, it was a double-whammy – NOOS and SOO. And don’t forget – It was all your fault!! Then there was that pearl wisdom that rolled down halls as soon as it passed through Sr. Lorrita’s lips. Excuse me, but am I the only one who thought she looked like Billy Barte’s sister?  Anyway, she said that a good, Catholic girl should not get any more pleasure from kissing a boy than she should get out of kissing a doorknob.  You know, I always took that advice a little too seriously – especially when I got my tongue caught in the keyhole!

 

Do you remember sitting in the old gym listening to Pollyanna prattle on about how everything was right and wonderful in the world only to have Sr. Mary Carmel come over the loud speaker and announce that our beloved President Kennedy had been shot? We realized, for the first time, that no amount of prayers would save him, and later realized that our prayers are often answered in other ways.

 

Do you remember the dog days of spring before schools were air-conditioned?  We were allowed to eat our lunches out on the lawn and listen to an impromptu hootenanny.  We sang along to such classics as “Puff the Magic Dragon” and “If I Had a Hammer.”  Eat your heart out ‘nSync!

 

Do you remember those statues at the end of the hallways?  Their glassy eyes beaming down…watching, waiting.  I don’t think N.D. even needed those Student Council girls with their blue beanies – just a statue at the end of each hallway kept us in line.

 

Do you remember in our junior year going over to the St. Louis Zoo for our Junior/Senior picnic?  We spotted Carol Lawrence and her hunk of a husband, Robert Goulet.

To say we were giddy is an understatement – totally obnoxious is closer to the mark.  Then some of the girls fell into the pond while trying to stand in the paddleboats. I remember wet, shoeless girls with Robert Goulet’s autograph on their arms.   What a great day that was…until the next day.  Do you remember the juniors and only the juniors being summoned to the old gym?  Oh god, we were in for it now.  Who told?  Did Robert Goulet call the office and complain about our unladylike behavior.  Perhaps the zoo officials called about all those loose tennis shoes gumming up the paddleboats. I can still see Sr. Mary Carmel taking the microphone in her hand as she strode to the middle of the stage.  She looked over her wire-rimmed glasses and said in her most somber voice, “Never, in the history of the Academy has the junior class…been given a new design for a class ring.”  We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

 

Do you remember the day we came back to school after the nuns changed their habits?  They no longer donned the Sr. Betrille/Flying Nun look, and we hardly recognized them. Was it merely their habits that opened up or their attitude toward life in general?

 

Do you remember the crisp October mornings when the school held Mission Day? We actually got to lock up the nuns for five or ten minutes.  Our pennies, nickels and dimes went to save the pagan babies.  That’s right.  We nickled and dimed those pagan babies right on into heaven.

 

Do you remember the dances? - the Christmas Ball, the Jr./Sr. Dance and, of course, our Senior Prom in the new gym.  Now, if my memory serves me right, I believe that those same nuns that made us wear leather shoes, those same nuns that made sure our collars pointed to the cuffs, those same nuns…let us come to school the day of prom night… with curlers in our hair!  It became quite a status symbol to wear gigantic brush rollers accented with a pink chiffon hair net.  It made a unique fashion statement to say the least. But it let everyone know that you were going to the prom and they were not. I still wonder whether all those girls actually had dates or just wore the curlers so others thought they were going to the prom. I was “lucky” enough to wear curlers to school a time or two.

 

Once when I went to my first prom at Assumption High School, I received a letter two weeks before the event. It started off welcoming me to the all boys Catholic high school. Then it proceeded to tell me that I must wear a dress becoming a good Catholic girl with nothing less than two-inch straps.  They had a ruler to actually measure those straps in question. I would be an embarrassment to Assumption, to my school, to my date and most of all to myself, if I wore something deemed “immodest” and would be sent home!  Oh, the shame of it all…and remember – It would be all your fault!!!

As I look back over those peaks and valleys of our high school years, they make me smile, shake my head in disbelief, and bring tears to my eyes.  Today, even though I would not want to live through them again, I would not trade any of them.  They made me who I am, and they made you who you are today.  So I thank God for those peaks and valleys and the opportunity to go the Academy of Notre Dame. 

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