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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Childhood / Youth
- Published: 02/19/2017
Second term of school, second week in and it was a biggie. We had not had this much excitement since I don't know when. The whole class had progressed from the little kid pencil writing to the almighty fountain pen.
Mine was red to match my school tie and the trim around my school bag.
Even back then I had OCD and everything had to match. I had picked it out before the Christmas school holiday and was given it as a Christmas present. It was one of the best presents I had ever been given.
I almost lost mine when over the Christmas break I had broken a light shade in the lounge room. A retro light that was irreplaceable my mother had said. I had blown my top at my big sister Lesley after she had pulled my ponytail multiple times. It just wasn't like me to blow but I had had enough, picked up a dust broom and flung it across the room.
That light shattered into a thousand bits. I stood in shock for a few seconds.
After that I ran. First to the Cottingham's because they were 3 houses away and she probably wouldn't look for me there. Nobody was home at their place after a search of every room so I headed for my safe haven. I went to hide under the house. It was at our house and I found four of the guys from the neighborhood chatting away so I joined in. Forgetting for a short time that my life was probably in extreme danger.
There was Allan, Richard, Michael and my brother Peter. It was our hide out where no adult ever came and annoyed us and we had made it quite cozy with stuff we had brought home from the city tip across the road. We were all chatting about the suitcase Michael had found at the tip months before and he along with his parents had taken it to the local Police Station. It had contained some money. He had just had a letter sent to him from the Police saying that nobody had claimed it so he would be receiving it any day. We were going to buy a shop full of lollies with that money and eat them until we could eat no more.
Well with that sweet dream still in mind my mother opened the creaky door and ordered me out. She clipped me across the ears and told me I was going to lose my Christmas gifts, which included my prized red pen. I also had to clean the lounge floor of thousands of glass pieces. Well I cried for days until my beautiful fountain pen was returned to me. I said a lot of Hail Marys to get that pen back.
The day had finally arrived and our class was buzzing with excitement. Did you bring yours?, I heard everyone asking as we walked into the cloak room to hang our bags up. Christine had opened her bag to show me hers. It was yellow with a black end to it. I was about to show her mine when Sister David stepped into the cloak room and yelled at us to stop the hum of voices and move into the classroom.
We sat down and did our morning prayers and then she got straight into the morning lessons. Okay, who forgot to bring their fountain pen? A quick glance around the room to confirm we had all done as we were told at 3.00pm Friday afternoon. We were all to terrified to forget an order from Sister David. Even though her stature was small she had a mean thrash of the hand if you didn't obey her orders.
She looked around the room. I couldn't help the smile on my face and was told to wipe it off so I screwed my nose up so as not to smile. I was still sitting like that when the next question came.
Who has tried their fountain pen out? Another quick look around the room confirmed one of the boys had. The boy sitting next to him was quickly trying to pull his hand down but too late, she had spotted that hand.
Class what did I tell you about using your pens? she yelped in a very annoyed voice. Don't use your pens, that's what I said. She glared at the poor boy and he was asked to put his hand flat on his desk. We all knew what this meant. He was going to get the ruler across his knuckles and they would be bruised and sore for the next week.
It was at this time I went into silent prayer and asked god not to amputate this poor lads fingers in front of me as I didn't really like blood.
Well my prayer worked and she had changed her mind. He had to stay in at lunch time and repeat on the blackboard 100 times: I must listen, I must listen. I had never had to do that but many a child had. These poor children missed their whole lunch time.
Well it was getting closer with every instruction she yelled across the class and I was getting more anxious to start and then came another hiccup. Beverly, the girl sitting opposite me, had accidentally dropped a bit of ink whilst putting it into the inkwell. This was a huge no no and we had been told at least a dozen times not to tip the ink bottle.
I expect this really was not the fault of Beverly's as she moved her arm differently from the rest of us as her left arm was only half an arm with little wee fingers coming out from it. She was born this way and we all accepted sometimes she could be a bit clumsy. To sister Davis though it was no excuse and she was heading for her. She told her in a very harsh voice to be careful then pulled a piece of blotting paper from her secret pocket that was hidden under the long brown leather strap and a set of rosary beads. She handed it to Beverly and ordered a clean up.
We had been handed our pads that were normally only used for half year exams and then told to pull out the free blotting paper that came with them. This year my pad had a fantail on it. Every year I had picked a different bird. They were all New Zealand native birds. We were then taught how to full our pens from the inkwell and last but not least we held them up to have them inspected to see if the nibs were up to standard.
Well we were all ready for our first writing lesson when Sister David said. "Okay class, writing lesson over."
What a let down.
The next day we started our first writing lesson with my awesome new red fountain pen.
The End
The Red Fountain Pen(Gail Moore)
Second term of school, second week in and it was a biggie. We had not had this much excitement since I don't know when. The whole class had progressed from the little kid pencil writing to the almighty fountain pen.
Mine was red to match my school tie and the trim around my school bag.
Even back then I had OCD and everything had to match. I had picked it out before the Christmas school holiday and was given it as a Christmas present. It was one of the best presents I had ever been given.
I almost lost mine when over the Christmas break I had broken a light shade in the lounge room. A retro light that was irreplaceable my mother had said. I had blown my top at my big sister Lesley after she had pulled my ponytail multiple times. It just wasn't like me to blow but I had had enough, picked up a dust broom and flung it across the room.
That light shattered into a thousand bits. I stood in shock for a few seconds.
After that I ran. First to the Cottingham's because they were 3 houses away and she probably wouldn't look for me there. Nobody was home at their place after a search of every room so I headed for my safe haven. I went to hide under the house. It was at our house and I found four of the guys from the neighborhood chatting away so I joined in. Forgetting for a short time that my life was probably in extreme danger.
There was Allan, Richard, Michael and my brother Peter. It was our hide out where no adult ever came and annoyed us and we had made it quite cozy with stuff we had brought home from the city tip across the road. We were all chatting about the suitcase Michael had found at the tip months before and he along with his parents had taken it to the local Police Station. It had contained some money. He had just had a letter sent to him from the Police saying that nobody had claimed it so he would be receiving it any day. We were going to buy a shop full of lollies with that money and eat them until we could eat no more.
Well with that sweet dream still in mind my mother opened the creaky door and ordered me out. She clipped me across the ears and told me I was going to lose my Christmas gifts, which included my prized red pen. I also had to clean the lounge floor of thousands of glass pieces. Well I cried for days until my beautiful fountain pen was returned to me. I said a lot of Hail Marys to get that pen back.
The day had finally arrived and our class was buzzing with excitement. Did you bring yours?, I heard everyone asking as we walked into the cloak room to hang our bags up. Christine had opened her bag to show me hers. It was yellow with a black end to it. I was about to show her mine when Sister David stepped into the cloak room and yelled at us to stop the hum of voices and move into the classroom.
We sat down and did our morning prayers and then she got straight into the morning lessons. Okay, who forgot to bring their fountain pen? A quick glance around the room to confirm we had all done as we were told at 3.00pm Friday afternoon. We were all to terrified to forget an order from Sister David. Even though her stature was small she had a mean thrash of the hand if you didn't obey her orders.
She looked around the room. I couldn't help the smile on my face and was told to wipe it off so I screwed my nose up so as not to smile. I was still sitting like that when the next question came.
Who has tried their fountain pen out? Another quick look around the room confirmed one of the boys had. The boy sitting next to him was quickly trying to pull his hand down but too late, she had spotted that hand.
Class what did I tell you about using your pens? she yelped in a very annoyed voice. Don't use your pens, that's what I said. She glared at the poor boy and he was asked to put his hand flat on his desk. We all knew what this meant. He was going to get the ruler across his knuckles and they would be bruised and sore for the next week.
It was at this time I went into silent prayer and asked god not to amputate this poor lads fingers in front of me as I didn't really like blood.
Well my prayer worked and she had changed her mind. He had to stay in at lunch time and repeat on the blackboard 100 times: I must listen, I must listen. I had never had to do that but many a child had. These poor children missed their whole lunch time.
Well it was getting closer with every instruction she yelled across the class and I was getting more anxious to start and then came another hiccup. Beverly, the girl sitting opposite me, had accidentally dropped a bit of ink whilst putting it into the inkwell. This was a huge no no and we had been told at least a dozen times not to tip the ink bottle.
I expect this really was not the fault of Beverly's as she moved her arm differently from the rest of us as her left arm was only half an arm with little wee fingers coming out from it. She was born this way and we all accepted sometimes she could be a bit clumsy. To sister Davis though it was no excuse and she was heading for her. She told her in a very harsh voice to be careful then pulled a piece of blotting paper from her secret pocket that was hidden under the long brown leather strap and a set of rosary beads. She handed it to Beverly and ordered a clean up.
We had been handed our pads that were normally only used for half year exams and then told to pull out the free blotting paper that came with them. This year my pad had a fantail on it. Every year I had picked a different bird. They were all New Zealand native birds. We were then taught how to full our pens from the inkwell and last but not least we held them up to have them inspected to see if the nibs were up to standard.
Well we were all ready for our first writing lesson when Sister David said. "Okay class, writing lesson over."
What a let down.
The next day we started our first writing lesson with my awesome new red fountain pen.
The End
Dr Gallagher
05/08/2023The story was enjoyabe. I had a fun time reading it. The story was well written.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Valerie Allen
05/06/2023Yes, this brought back many memories of my days with the Sisters of Saint Joseph in Catholic grade school. I had the Sisters of Saint Dominic in Catholic high school. What a difference between these two order of sisters. I must say I had an excellent education, however, it was ruled by fear on a daily basis. The boys in class suffered more so than the girls - when we had mixed classes! Thanks for the memories ~
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
12/01/2021That was a great piece Gail. Leave it up to a nun to turn your best day into a fear fest! That was fun read, thanks for sharing,
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
11/30/2021I'm sure I remember reading this story back in 2017, and maybe even featuring it then, but that was before the comments feature was added in 2018. I enjoyed reading it again, and discovering interesting details I hadn't remembered from the first time. A real true life treasure from your history, Gail. Thanks for sharing your story with us.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Doug Lay
11/27/2021Doug Lay
WoW! I went through Marine Boot Camp in the late fifties, but thank heaven, never had to face an angry nun. Good Story.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
11/28/2021Yes Doug, I agree. Nothing like an angry nun to whack you into line.
Thanks so much for your comments :-)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
11/26/2021Gail, I just had to add a few comments. My older brother (I have five of them, and one younger brother too) were all taught by Nuns. My brother Married a Protestand Girl who wanted to know what denomination were the Nuns who taught us. Were they Sisters of the Poor, or Sisters of Notre Dame?
My brother said (with a straight face): "No Honey, we were all taught by the Sisters of Perpetual Misery." I still laugh at that.
Sister Marry Getrude and Sister Mary Vanita, made up for the bad nuns. I took my new Bride to meet Sister Mary Gertrude on a visit to my home town, and later she got to hold my firstborn ...and getting either of them to let go of each other took some doing. She died at ninety seven...the year she retired from teaching!
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
11/26/2021Oh what a great story that would make.
When one of the girls was 3 this came out of her mouth.
Dogs have pups, on and on she went then she got to cat, yes cats have Catholics!!
She was a bit of a hard case. Our bed fell to pieces so I was holding it together while he screwed it back together.
Door bell goes. “ Shirlene answer the door”
We hear her at the door, miss 3 ” mum and dad are upstairs screwing” Grrrrrrr
Oh what comes out of the mouths of babes.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
11/26/2021Aloha Gail,
I don't know why it deleted the second paragraph that I wrote in reply, but here is the gist: I went to Catholic School, I was terrified of Nuns who towered over me, only to find out none of them were taller than five foot two! Schaefer Pens were never designed to survive recess at a Catholic Grade School. And my knuckles took a beating from copper edged rulers for years. It didn't improve my writing, but my pain tolerance was off the charts. LOL
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
11/26/2021Oh what wonderful memories we all have of those nuns.(not) Sister David in my story was all of 4 ft 10” but as scary as sh--
Thanks so much Kevin :-)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
11/26/2021Aloha Gail,
How in the world did I miss this? As a recovering Catholic myself, it brought back memories of Nuns who towered over me, only later to discover none of them were taller than five foot two! I as a premature baby (not quite five pounds and about three months early) and hands are the last to develop...so my handwriting never had a chance. And I am Autistic. Strike two.
I got copper edged beating on my knuckle's, but not only because my cursive resembled a wandering chicke who had stepped in an inkwell, but the ink from my Fountain Pen, leaked out of my shirt pocket. Those lousy plastic shirt protectors were worthless against a Schaefer Pen. that was never designed to survive recess at a Catholic Grade School.
Loved every bit of this story.
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Aziz
11/25/2021I love your style Gail. A great topic choice with deep meanings and lovely feelings.
Well done
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
11/25/2021Thanks so much Aziz. This was one I did years ago.
I really appreciate your lovely comments :-)
COMMENTS (10)