Did They Ever?????????

"O tempora, O mores!" Pammy could smile these days at the current trends, each to their own, and anything goes. She hummed as the proceeded to muse while stitching gifts for her siblings and pals, whether they wanted them or not. Cool to be kind.

"Did males ever really change, let alone the little women who were swayed by their charms, so disarming?" Pammy cast her notions back to when she had been a married lay teacher, born to preach in a parochial primary school. There the allied nuns and her co-educators, all female, had a vocation to lead all souls to God. That was their career, one way for the younger chicks there to sort the mortgages, all battling to drive to their workplace in the their old jalopies. The teacher's car park was a realm of hope and blind faith, all wheels held together with blutack, with winged prayers to drive home, to cook dinner. Again. The nuns bought a new car every second year, no one else could.

The nuns held the hierarchy of the school administration. One year in particular, the staffroom welcomed a fresh teacher, Leanne. She was slightly older than Pammy at the time. Leanne was impressively pretty, tall, sleek, great figure, brunette hair, big blue eyes. She was friendly, supportive, full of terrific tips and initiatives, full of ideas and smiles. No one could not like Leanne, she was soon one of the staff.

Pammy and the gals soon met Leanne's identical twin sister, Angela. By then Angela had met and married an older brother of a best friend of the twins, from when these fetching lassies went to the top convent in town. The twins had taught in the same school, adding to a zone of confusion for their students. Angela was having a break from teaching now, raising a handsome baby son of her own.

Pammy and the staff wondered if Leanne was planning the same japes. The teachers all hoped then to fulfil the great dream of the suburban home, having their own little popes, and then resuming the careers. Some of the older teachers were role models, still preaching away in the classrooms. It was part of the fabric of the Holy Romans.

Anyway, one sunny day, Leanne was having a quiet sniffle as she sipped her coffee. The nuns were in the reflection room, smoking a discreet pack of cigarettes. The fags had been swiped from Pammy, who had confiscated them from her boys' schoolbags. Checking schoolbags was also part of the essence of days while teaching Grade Six, who by now have forgotten the whole scene. No perfect male, did they ever stop smoking too? The teachers long ago quit the nicotine.

Leanne's secrets were shared, the other staff members listened. Leanne had always had her dreams to also have her own beau. She wanted Angela's happy romantic future in holy wedlock. But, by chance, somewhere in her social circle, Leanne had met and fallen in love with an older Catholic man, a married man, a very devout man, but a very rich man.

Leanne was having a bit of an emotional deep and meaningful, wishing she too could have a perfect Catholic marriage. "There is no such thing as a perfect marriage. Full stop!" Pammy's best gal pal and joint Grade Six teacher declared, as she continued. "You have a friend with benefits, like I have. We do not tell those nuns anything," she mimed zipping her lips, as one head honcho nun walked in, smiling. Yes, we were all learning to tell and translate sweet little lies in the name of all that might or might not be holy in the Vatican. Silence is golden.

Leanne quickly resumed her normal bouncy self, fully delighting in her stolen moments with her sugar daddy. The ladies in the staffroom quickly named him Harry Holy Devout, such a respectable pillar and team leader of the Catholic structures and fabric of a family man. Except in those days, there were no smart phones, so lots of sweet little lies must have been acceptable. Perhaps his wife turned a very blind eye.

Just like the nuns, as in the middle of winter term, the weather was cold, drenched everyone with rain, freezing mornings. Teachers were pale, wrapped in coats and scarves, all classrooms full of coughs and colds. One by one, teachers were phoning the hierarchy for an absentee day or two. Suddenly, Leanne was absent for three weeks, and a relief teacher was funded somehow for her class of lively young popes and lasses.

In one Monday morning walked Leanne to the coffee club at recess. She was sporting a new, sophisticated trouser suit, and a golden glowing suntan. Not a word was uttered in front of the nuns. But Harry Holy Devout had wrangled Leanne and the funding to take her cruising on his yacht for the three weeks. It must have been so relaxing, so restful, so germ free, so sunny, so full of benefits, so repricocal.

Pammy stitched on, winding her recollections to a sunny early Spring Sunday. It had been that obligatory staff attendance at the parish school sports. Beyond gross, Pammy and co were required to be there by 1 pm, arranging their assorted year levels into age groups. Competition was hot, teachers got a chair, children sat on the grass, whether it had rained overnight or not .Pammy guessed everyone was a lot tougher then.

Leanne was late, so Pammy and co covered up, adding her class to theirs. It was all about the team, leading such popes to the Lord,by racing each other. Half an hour after the first race, Leanne rolled up, breathless, full of excuses. She had slept in, after spending a night with her sugar daddy. Their love was so mutual, that Harry Holy Devout had bought her a latest model silver sports car. Top of the range.

Leanne had got dressed in such a panic, that she was not wearing her cami under her matching silver jacket. All very toned, quite tasteful. Suddenly, grown Catholic fathers were eager and keen to learn how Leanne was teaching First Holy Communion and multiplication. The boys and older popes spent a fun Sunday either drooling over the wheels or Leanne's cleavage. Pammy and the co staff had a quiet chuckle, as our prayerful lives realistically realised that the normal wheels and fat -bottomed skirts were never going to compare. No one could compete with that.

Pammy often wondered what had become of Leanny and Harry Holy Devout. Leanne may have met someone who did not spin such sweet little lies, in the name of Holy Romans. No such thing as a perfect male. What did become of Leanne and Harry? Did they ever get married? Why would they bother? Pammy dozed off, each to their own, anything goes.