I've gotten some funny responses from anonymous posters from my beloved alma mater, Xavier High School, in the past day or so. One I recognize immediately, but the others are, well, a little mysterious. But the key is this - the request mentioned one of the most important names in my my high school days -- Sister Renita. So Sister Renita it is.
I scanned a page from my 1979 yearbook that features Sister Renita, along with the rest of the English department. Sister Renita is at the top left.
I wrote about Sister Renita a year ago in this post. From that post, here is a story of Sister Renita. I was talking about where I was 30 years ago (now 31). And one place was Sister Renita's Honors English class -4th hour, if I remember correctly.
A quick sketch: I was sitting in Sister Renita's Honors English class. Sister Renita was the best teacher I ever had, bar none. But she was also the most intimidating teacher I ever had, too. We used to say she ran her class the way Mao ruled China. One of the students in the class was a cheerleader and she was wearing her cheerleading outfit on this day. I was half daydreaming, half admiring this cheerleader's budding feminine form from across the room when suddenly Sister Renita pounced on the cheerleader, who was staring somewhat absent-mindedly at the blackboard. Sister Renita asked the cheerleader her opinion about something we read - the Odyssey, I think - and the cheerleader started to answer in a very soft voice. Sister Renita shot a withering glance at the cheerleader and thus began the following exchange:
"Miss, what are you wearing?"
"My cheerleading outfit, Sister."
"You are a cheerleader, but you can't speak up in my class? How are you able to lead the cheers, miss?"
"I can, Sister."
"But in here, you're a mouse?"
"But Sister--"
"You know, I ought to lock you in that broom closet and see if you can scream your way out. Maybe that will teach you how to speak up in class."
The rest of the class stared at Sister Renita, mouths agape. I was amazed and almost wanted to go over and offer comfort to the cheerleader, maybe give her a big hug. Not that I had any ulterior motive beyond the milk of human decency, of course. But Sister had her reasons for this exchange - she wanted the girls to be strong in their opinions, to not be mousy, to share their thoughts with the same enthusiasm that the boys did.
And it worked. The cheerleader in question did very well in Sister Renita's class. And the demanding standards that Sister Renita maintained benefited everyone who was in that room. The tough teachers are the ones you remember, because they are the ones who care.
I don't know if anyone who was in that class with me remembers that story, but I'll never forget it. Going to a Catholic high school in that era was odd, because there was a real tension between some of the religious who were teaching -- most were pre-Vatican II types -- and the sometimes touchy-feely ways of the younger lay teachers. (We also had some lay teachers who were more than a little bit sadistic, especially a certain math teacher who had a penchant for wearing a monochromatic wardrobe, but we'll let that pass for now.) There was one other bad cop nun in the school, Sister Alexandra, a/k/a Big Al. She taught typing class and was the sort who wouldn't hesitate to rap you over the knuckles with a ruler if you didn't have your nose lined up to the J key. It happened to me once and I never forgot. Even today when I approach a keyboard my nose lines up with the J key. And I can still type 65 words a minute if I need to.
I don't know if Big Al or Sister Renita are still around, but if they are -- thank you. You made a difference in my life.
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