Catholic School Days from the Past

[nfd2004]

I certainly enjoyed reading the various replies to the Third Alarm in the Bronx at Box 4110 (1/17/14). Besides the comments about the fire, many commented about their younger days as students in the Catholic School System. I know that we all have an interest here in the FDNY and I certainly am not trying to change that. But for those of us that spent many years of our childhood behind the four walls of any Catholic School during the 50s or 60s, we probably have a few memories.

  I would like to share one of those memories with everybody. I grew up as a kid in Bridgeport, Ct. I went to Blessed Sacrament School from the first to the eighth grades. Those nuns were tough. I was terrified of each and every one of them. The principal was the worst, Sister Helena Margaret. You just don't forget those names from over 50 years ago. If she was on the first floor yelling at a student, you could clearly hear her up to the third floor. Everybody in the class knew that some poor soul did something wrong. Maybe got caught chewing gum or didn't kneel up straight in church.

  Every year as we moved on we would have a pretty good idea of who we would be getting as a teacher. Every one of those nuns were tough. But by far, the toughest and most feared by all, after that principal was Sister Mary O'Brian. The fifth grade teacher. She taught the fifth grade for years.

  Well, the good news for me around June, 1958 was that the school year was over. "No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers dirty looks". How well I remember that little poem. I was free to do as I please for the next two months. Summer vacation was the best time of the year. I could ride my bicycle chasing fire trucks in my entire neighborhood and not have to worry about going to that school and dealing with those nuns.

  Well, as most of us know, all good things must come to an end. September, 1958 gets here and my worst nightmare becomes reality. Not only is it back to school, but I am about to face the toughest challenge in my young life. The most feared nun throughout the school. Sister Mary O'Brian for the next TEN MONTHS. I am not ready for this at all. I am scared to death. And to top it off, I'm not exactly the smartest kid in the class. I know I'm in Big trouble.

  Well, just as expected, it's a very tough year. She walks up and down the rows carrying a three foot wooden pointer. I had seen her break a few and she wasn't at all afraid to use them. I feared for my life. Of course after about two months, I am told "William, your grades need to improve, I want to talk to your parents". So now there's more trouble. Not only with this nun, but now my parents are getting involved. I thought when does this nightmare end.

  Of course my father, a Bridgeport Firefighter, now has to bring me in and now I have to face BOTH of them. "Hell can not be any worse than this". So we go in and I get my verbal beating. At one point I thought I was doing okay when Sister O'Brian asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. I told her "a Fireman". That wasn't the answer she was looking for. Later I realize I should have said a "Priest".

  Finally the day comes and I made it. Somehow, maybe it was all those prayers I said. I'm getting promoted to the sixth grade. Summer vacation is here and it's good bye to Sister Mary O'Brian. After those Ten long months, no matter who I get in the sixth grade, I will be able to deal with it. 

  Well, then that dreaded day comes. It's September and back to school again. Not a happy feeling but at least it's not that Sister Mary O'Brian this time. Well William, surprise, surprise. Guess who got transferred to teach the Sixth grade. I am not kidding, Sister Mary O'Brian. She always taught the Fifth grade. I could not believe what was going on. I try to be a good Catholic boy and why would such a thing be happening. If there was ever a time in my life when I would have jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, it would have been then.

  So I guess the moral of the story is, when somebody tells you "Don't count your chickens until they hatch", I learned that at a very young age.

  Thinking about it today, still scares me.

 

 

[memory master]

It seems if you said you wanted to be a fireman or cop to a Brother or Nun, you were now in the pits. My dad had to accompany me to see Brother Joseph over some barely passing grade. Of course he asked me what I intended to do with my life and I stated "be a fireman or cop." The Brother immediately gets red in the face and says "What do you want to be one of those bums for?" Before I could answer, my dad pulled his badge out and said "What did you say?" Never had another word spoken to me for the remainder of the term and passed the course. Wonderful high school days.

 

[manhattan]

RE:  "  So I guess the moral of the story is, when somebody tells you "Don't count your chickens until they hatch", I learned that at a very young age."

One day as I sat musing, sad and lonely, a little voice said to me "Cheer up!  Things could be worse!"

So I cheered up.

And, sure enough....things got worse.

 

[STAjo]

So...My 2 Cents: the STA in STAjo = St. Thomas Aquinas Parochial School, Flatbush Ave.,
Brooklyn, U.S.A.

It seems that in the Subjects I Enjoyed, [ English, History, Social Studies, Geography...], I Always garnered  A' s & B' s, (later High 80's to High 90's), and the Subjects I did not care for Too Much
at All [Math, Science...], I was Real Lucky to manage C' s (60's).
My Father, a NY Tele. Co. Installer / Repairman for 20 + Years, was Invited on more than One Occasion to discuss My Academic Performance, (or lack thereof). When I explained to the Principal,
Bro. Wm. Breed, and my 7th Grade Teacher, Bro. Robt. Falcone, my disinterest in The Sciences,
they were so moved by my plight that they invited me to attend the 8th Grade  Elsewhere.
I suppose some of the other Antics I conducted, (both In & Out of Class) were so Entertaining,
that these were included in the decision to Dis-invite me from the Brooklyn Archdiocese Educational System, ( No Xavieran or Nazareth H.S. for This Poor Lad).
If it weren't for the fact that My Father's  Dad, a Retired NYPD Lt., helped Build S.T.A.
the Invitation to Leave probably would have come sooner. Alas, My Adolescent Education
concluded at Andres Huddie J.H.S. 240, and Midwood H.S.  :'(

 

[fdny1075k]

My father grew up in South Norwalk, CT, a tough working class neighborhood in the late '50's and '60's. He went to Catholic School until middle school when his family moved to northern Norwalk, then Greenwich. He remembers the nuns well. They were never afraid to use a ruler, pointer stick, or whatever else was in reach to dole out punishment. One nun my father remembers, Sister Dorothea, was referred to lovingly as "Dangerous Dynamite Dorothea". She definitely never heard of the old adage, "spare the rod and spoil the child". My mother also remembers the nuns when she went to Catholic grammar and middle school in Bridgeport, CT.

I myself went through twelve years of Catholic grammar school(1st-8th grades), then Catholic high school. A nun was a principle of my grammar school and I had nuns in high school. However, thankfully no one was whacked on the occasion with a ruler, but shouting and scolding was not out of the question. Still, I imagine it was a whole lot better than 50-60 years ago.

Funny think about it is that today, my father, mother, and myself are all practicing Catholics.

 

[68jk09]

STAjo..i also did a year in another STA...St Thomas Apostle.

 

[STAjo]

STAjo..i also did a year in another STA...St Thomas Apostle.

God Bless You, Son.

 

[FDNYSTATENISLAND]

Memory Master, they really talked down upon cops and firemen like that? Incredible

 

[manhattan]

So far, this thread has some of the best, most humorous writing I've seen in a very long time.  Brings back (mostly) good memories and I may pass some on to the nun who was my seventh grade teacher.  She was cool about things way back when and remains so today.

Thanks guys and keep up the good writing.

 

[FDNYSTATENISLAND]

Mack, I currently live down the block from OLSS, go to mass there when I can.

 

[mack]

FDNYSI - I remember when OLSS was located in the old Seventh Day Adventist/Korean Church on Huguenot Ave, just south of Amboy Rd.  I don't know how a church goes from a catholic church to a Korean Church to a Seventh Day Adventist/Korean Church.  The original OLSS school was located in two old wooden buildings adjacent to the old church - one just to the left (still standing) and one (bingo hall) located behind (now gone). 

There is an insurance office across the street from the church.  It was originally a firehouse - Huguenot Engine 1.  It had an all hands fire early 1980s and was then refinished.

 

[FDNYSTATENISLAND]

Wow, yeah I know exactly where that is... Both the old church and insurance office. Office is @ the corner of Amboy Road & Huguenot Avenue. They just re-did the church a few years back - it's huge now. - not to change the topic but I find it odd that Ladder 84 (up the block from OLSS) was originally an airel ladder in the 70's, then changed to a TL in the 80s and 90s, then changed back to a Ferrara airel as of today. I know many truck co's in the city haved changed from tillers to airels etc. but any reason why they changed three times? - the only reason why I could imagine is because both 84's second due truck companies are both TL's - 76 and 87. Instead of having 3 TL's on the southernmost tip of the island, figure the Dept. would make 84 an airel and have 2 TL's and 1 airel. Makes sense to me. Although it happens elsewhere in the city I bet, it would be odd for 3 TL's to show up @ the same box. Sorry to confuse anybody if I did lol.

 

[mack]

FDNYSI - Good question about Ladder 84's rigs.  Maybe Gman would have a good answer.

I can remember the the old wooden FWD aerial they had (1950s-1960s).  They got a rear mount in the 70s because everyon went to rearmounts.  I suspect they went to a tower ladder in the 80s because of all the building on the South Shore and only L 76 and L 84 to cover.  L 87 was organized in 1987 so the South Sour of SI had 3 truck companies.  Maybe they felt with all the tight apartment domples being built, it would be better for L 84 to maneuver.  Also, your point about only TLs being availabe on the first alarm would be a concern.  I really don't know. 

 

[CFDMarshal]

You guys make me happy to know I am Baptist! :-X : ;D

 

[memory master]

Here's another goodie I stumbled upon. While checking the music events calendar, as I do daily, on this day back in 1962 "The Twist" was banned by the Diocese Of Buffalo (way up in northern New York State) for being "impure." Of course, they were two years late as "The Twist" was first released in the summer of 1960. Unless they were referring to "Slow Twistin'" which came out early in 1962. Of course you'll recall that the Everly Brothers song "Wake Up Little Susie" was banned by the Diocese Of Boston back in 1957 because of the lyrics "....we both fell fast asleep..." A little off the subject but I can remember taking home the weekly mimeographed sheets the nun's handed out bearing the names of blacklisted movies. Have a good day gents!

 

[nfd2004]

"Manhattan", there's nothing at all humorous about it. I mean read what these guys write on here. Guys that have fought fires or spent years in the military are all telling the same story. Every one was TERRIFIED. Plain and simply scared to death.

  "Rev CFD..", yes, you have been blessed. I think you personally know some of the guys telling these stories. Did they ever show fear to you at all ? I don't think so. Well, they are now.

  I remember when the school day was over we had to walk in line, without talking the three blocks to where the crossing guard was. We were required to march in line and no talking. Well, guess who got caught talking. The fire trucks went by and I remember telling my buddy that my father was a fireman. Next thing I know, I am pulled out of line by my red hair and physically removed to the back of the line. We still had another two blocks to walk. And now that fear is set in again. I almost made it through the day. "Why did I open my big mouth" ? When we finally got to that crossing guard, I was told, in fact that nun yelled so loud at me, the whole neighborhood was told. "William, inform your parents that you will be staying after school tomorrow". "If they have any questions, have them call me". "You will be writing 100 times - I will not talk in line again".

  So as it goes, once again a lesson learned. And those nuns had a way of getting your parents involved too. So I had to go home and tell my parents, "Tomorrow I have to stay after school". When they asked me why, "I had to tell them". And just like "mack", I got absolutely no mercy from them either. In fact as "mack" pointed out, my father encouraged it also. There was just no winning no matter how I tried.

  Now almost 60 years later, it's nice to know that I wasn't the only kid that felt this way. But there is one thing that did help me one time. My father also volunteered to help out at the school functions. He was good at TV repair in those days. My father set up a TV set and an outside antenna in the auditorium so we could all watch the first manned rocket ship take off. I think the first astronaut was John Glenn. I might have been in the seventh or eighth grade. I was sure proud of him for what he did. And not only that, I was proud of him because he was a fireman too.

  The music, those strict nuns, the school uniforms, talking in line,.... somehow it all worked out. And I too have enjoyed reading these stories.

 

[fdce54]

I certainly enjoyed reading the various replies to the Third Alarm in the Bronx at Box 4110 (1/17/14). Besides the comments about the fire, many commented about their younger days as students in the Catholic School System. I know that we all have an interest here in the FDNY and I certainly am not trying to change that. But for those of us that spent many years of our childhood behind the four walls of any Catholic School during the 50s or 60s, we probably have a few memories.

  I would like to share one of those memories with everybody. I grew up as a kid in Bridgeport, Ct. I went to Blessed Sacrament School from the first to the eighth grades. Those nuns were tough. I was terrified of each and every one of them. The principal was the worst, Sister Helena Margaret. You just don't forget those names from over 50 years ago. If she was on the first floor yelling at a student, you could clearly hear her up to the third floor. Everybody in the class knew that some poor soul did something wrong. Maybe got caught chewing gum or didn't kneel up straight in church.

  Every year as we moved on we would have a pretty good idea of who we would be getting as a teacher. Every one of those nuns were tough. But by far, the toughest and most feared by all, after that principal was Sister Mary O'Brian. The fifth grade teacher. She taught the fifth grade for years.

  Well, the good news for me around June, 1958 was that the school year was over. "No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers dirty looks". How well I remember that little poem. I was free to do as I please for the next two months. Summer vacation was the best time of the year. I could ride my bicycle chasing fire trucks in my entire neighborhood and not have to worry about going to that school and dealing with those nuns.

  Well, as most of us know, all good things must come to an end. September, 1958 gets here and my worst nightmare becomes reality. Not only is it back to school, but I am about to face the toughest challenge in my young life. The most feared nun throughout the school. Sister Mary O'Brian for the next TEN MONTHS. I am not ready for this at all. I am scared to death. And to top it off, I'm not exactly the smartest kid in the class. I know I'm in Big trouble.

  Well, just as expected, it's a very tough year. She walks up and down the rows carrying a three foot wooden pointer. I had seen her break a few and she wasn't at all afraid to use them. I feared for my life. Of course after about two months, I am told "William, your grades need to improve, I want to talk to your parents". So now there's more trouble. Not only with this nun, but now my parents are getting involved. I thought when does this nightmare end.

  Of course my father, a Bridgeport Firefighter, now has to bring me in and now I have to face BOTH of them. "Hell can not be any worse than this". So we go in and I get my verbal beating. At one point I thought I was doing okay when Sister O'Brian asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. I told her "a Fireman". That wasn't the answer she was looking for. Later I realize I should have said a "Priest".

  Finally the day comes and I made it. Somehow, maybe it was all those prayers I said. I'm getting promoted to the sixth grade. Summer vacation is here and it's good bye to Sister Mary O'Brian. After those Ten long months, no matter who I get in the sixth grade, I will be able to deal with it. 

  Well, then that dreaded day comes. It's September and back to school again. Not a happy feeling but at least it's not that Sister Mary O'Brian this time. Well William, surprise, surprise. Guess who got transferred to teach the Sixth grade. I am not kidding, Sister Mary O'Brian. She always taught the Fifth grade. I could not believe what was going on. I try to be a good Catholic boy and why would such a thing be happening. If there was ever a time in my life when I would have jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, it would have been then.

  So I guess the moral of the story is, when somebody tells you "Don't count your chickens until they hatch", I learned that at a very young age.

  Thinking about it today, still scares me.

Willie, "Spare the rod, spoil the child!"

 

[fdce54]

You guys make me happy to know I am Baptist! :-X : ;D

;D ;D ;D ;D But think of all the fun you missed!

 

[3511]

6th grade...I got caught in a roundup of the boys by Sister John Joseph. We were doing something stupid but not actually what she thought. We all got the death sentence..."Have your father call me tonight at the Convent". Like Ralphy in the Christmas story, I would be killed.

While sweating the three hours till his return home from his tour at the firehouse that evening, I decided I had been wrongly accused and would fight the charges. Once home and settled in his "office" (the kitchen alcove with the dining table and his glass of Balantine Ale) I approached the bench. In a speech worthy of a Jimmy Stewart movie, I railed against falsehood and injustice and invoked God and the American Way to my cause. Actually got the Ol' Man riled up. And, oh by the way Dad, Sister JJ wants you to call her tonight.

After supper he posted to the telephone table in the foyer and placed the call. I stood behind the closed door to listen in as he gave her what for. After his initial greeting what followed was ten minutes of... Yes, Sister...Oh no, Sister...Of course Sister...as nauseum. The SOB had sold me out!

I waited in agony for half an hour before being summoned back to his "office" for my sentencing. He just looked up from his beer and newspaper and said, "I went through eight grades of nuns at St. Peter and St. Pauls'. I don't care what you did or didn't do, just don't ever, EVER, have me have to call the Convent again." Dismissed then with a wave of the hand.

The minute he got on that phone he became a 6th grader again himself. The enduring legacy of the nuns.

 

[fdce54]

When in the eight grade at OLR we had a guy who had been left back twice and was sixteen years old and a good bit bigger than us and was the poster boy for "bullying". One day when walking home for lunch, he decides to make my best friend his victim. Now my best friend wouldn't harm a fly and the bully knew this. I intervened and then the bully comes after me. I hit him with an overhand right which made solid contact with his nose. Blood flew everywhere and bully ran home. After lunch back in class, no bully. Then comes an announcement over the intercom for me to report to the principle's office. Down I go expecting impending doom. When I get there bully and his mother are in the principle's office and the mother is screaming "look what he did to my Joey" and she demands I be expelled. The principle (sorry I don't remember her name but she was a nun) calms her down she tells her it will be dealt with. When mother and bully leave, I get called in. Sister asks me what happened. I tell her my side of the story. She replies that is what she heard. She tells me "He had it coming and to watch my back and to go back to class." I lived to see graduation, no calls to home and bully never bothered me or my buddy again.