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Third Grade teacher sends me to the B-Board to write my name. As I pick up the chalk, I get a KAPOW! in the back of the head, knocking my forehead into the board. After 2 more attempts, I was told to sit down.
Later that nite my father who is Non-Catholic, upon seeing the egg shaped lump on my forehead, took me and mom to the Convent. Mother Superior wouldn't change my class or teacher, Dad pulled me out the next day, but mom had me back a year later.
That, I think set the ground rules for me and school, I hated it. Finished High School (went to a public one) and never thought of Collage.
Do I blame them? Na, you just move on.
And you learn from it.

As we dismissed school in the afternoon, every student had to exit the same door. Standing at that door was Mother Superior looking for anyting that broke the rules. She took me out of line because she thought my uniform was too short. There was only a 1/2 inch hem so there was no way to lengthen it. Her comment was (with irritation) "Girl, your legs are too long for that uniform." I got razzed about this for a long time. For a girl my age it was humiliating.
This gave some girls the idea to cut their hems back and leave about 1/2 inch for the hem. (one point students, 0 points nuns )

And if I close my eyes, I can almost feel the nuns walk by me. Some were gentle - some were cranky - HOW HUMAN! When I hear the horror stories of schools today (not just Catholic), I realize how special my education was in small-town Iowa Catholic schools.

Anyone ever read "The Last Catholic in America" by John Powers. It's an old book but strikes a lot of cords. Very funny!!!! Powers also wrote "Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Shine Up" .... and I never heard about that until I was an adult.

I received a wonderful education in my 12 years of Catholic schooling. I teach college now and would love to have more Catholic school educated students in my classes.

As for stories of abuse, I was abused as a kindergartener in public school. Also, my public school friends have horror stories of their own of the abuse they suffered.

I will be forever appreciative of what the Catholic schools did for me.

As usual, ther was some sort of fund raiser going on at school. My parents were blue collar workers with meager incomes. They were just getting by trying to raise four kids, so contributing to a fund raiser was out of the question. I knew this, but asked my mother anyways. Of course, I knew the answer would be no, and my mother told me so. I was in third grade at the time and I wanted to contribute, so I figured I would use my own money. I had ten cents. I contributed that. My nun "teacher" took the dime, dragged me up in front of the whole class and embarassed the hell out of me for my meager contribution. Needless to say, I went home in tears. When my mother asked me why, told her. My mother marched down to the school and read the dear sister the riot act, telling her that se didn't give me any money and that the money I brought was my own. Needlss to say, I never got any trouble from that nun anymore, and she was grateful for anything I brought to school in the way of contributions. Three cheers for mom!!! jjmotz

My Grandmother paid my yearly tuition to St Thomas Catholic School. She was a student there 50 years before as was her daughter, my mother. We were poor, my parents were alcoholic and not attentive to us at all. Our clothes were hand me down, we never had money for books, donations, not even deodorant as we grew older. Sort of back of the rack.
To this day it pains me what the nuns would do to me. Every week at 11 AM we had a milk and cookie break, I think it cost 40 cents a month, ha that was like a million dollars to me. I had no money to pay. Every day in class at 11 AM the rest of the class had milk and cookies, if someone had been absent they might give it to me but usually not. I had to sit there and watch everyone else. I remember that usually I had no breakfast and had to wait till 12:00 noon to go home for lunch which was pitiful. Now that I am older I give to others all the time having known first hand what is is to not have.....What I don't understand is the degree of hostility they had to do what they did, having to had known how I felt..........it is a personal trauma that still haunts me today.

As we get older, and join together in groups, we often tell stories about our past. School daze are sometimes the topic of conversation.
I have found, being "educated" in a catholic "organization" for eight years, that it is best to share these experiences with people who have also been to catholic schools. These are the people who, not only understand personally what you are talking about, but truly appreciate the shared experience. When you try to relate these tales to a group who has not attended a catholic school, they look at you as a fantastic story teller with a great imagination. In other words, they will not believe you.
It is comforting to know that there are people out there who KNOW what a catholic education is all about. Better yet, an internet group t share these past experiences with. THANK YOU!!! jjmotz

I'm thinking it was 6th Grade, a nun walked over to this cute girls desk, whose hair I guess was slightly "Poofed" up a bit, and poured a glass of water over her head, and told her "Go comb it out in the Ladies Room!"
They were tough...
Higgy