R.C.

Melinda was her name. Melinda Marshall. Of poor, but hard working parents, she had been born and raised in their faith. She was a good girl, and studied hard to be a primary teacher. She was thrilled to land her first teaching position, in a holy R.C parochial school.

Being a newbie teacher, Melinda was stiffed with a difficult task. She was assigned a feisty class of Grade Six students. She had to teach this grade to use their brains, often wondering about the true nature of God's little sunbeams.

The boys could have their moments, but then so could some of her girls in Grade Six. They could give Lolita a run for her money. Very mature for their age, very bright, and prone to making catty remarks about Melinda's fashion choices for looking professional in her classroom.

Melinda smiled, turned the other cheek, as the boys tested her patience. But she soon developed a great sense of humor as well. Some things her junior Einsteins said were very funny, if entirely inappropriate.

Melinda kicked off her days of teaching this class with morning Maths and mental arithmetic. Her boys picked up their rulers, wound rubber bands around them. Playing their air guitars, these male specimens launched into their quite passable rendition of "We don't need no education!"

"Right, boys!" Melinda was very stern, trying to hide her giggles. She noticed that the girls never needed to play the air guitar. Must be a male gender thing. "You are going to sit there until you do your Maths. I am here to give you an education. Right now!"

After that little dispute, Melinda's days of teaching rolled along. She was born to teach, and could cover most subjects. She believed, and taught her little, or big, sunbeams to bloom in kindness, as Our Lord taught us. She always wanted her students to be kind to themselves and each other. Melinda's grade aimed high.

The next term rolled around soon enough. Into the staff room of hen primary teachers, strolled John Castella. He was the new vice-principal, appointed to supervise R.C. In other words, Religious Co-ordination. He was a handsome rooster, soon set some feathers flying. Melinda noticed some of the staff members fluttered a few eyes at him, but she stayed aloof.

One sunny morning, her grade was toiling away, aiming high to get an "A" in writing their prayers for good. A knock on the classroom door, in came Mr. Castella. The catty girls were silent for once. The boys eyed him off, deciding whether to call Mr. Castella an old poof.

"Good morning, Grade Six! I am here to hear your opinions on this." On the old fashioned chalkboard, he wrote in large print, R.C. Melinda's students looked thoughtful. No one offered an opinion.

Finally, the class clown put up his hand. (There is one in every grade). "R.C. means Rubbish Co-ordinator!" Melinda tried to stifle her inner giggles. Unfortunately, or not, Mr. Castella's duties also included being the controller of the school's rubbish bins, the dumpster, and the now extinct incinerator of playground routines.

Melinda did not know where to put herself. Was this the end of her brilliant career? Should she become a singing vampire instead? Make more money that way! She peeped a glance at Mr. Castella. He glanced at her, his lips twitching.

"What are you teaching this class in catechism?" Now who was pretending to be cross? "Miss Marshall, see me after the last bell today, in my office." Then he left the classroom. Melinda's heart sank to her boots. Her dear little sunbeams launched into yet another spontaneous song. "He wants you, he wants you, you are in the tomato soup!"

That was the end of Religion class for that day. As Melinda was sending her class of sunbeams home at the end of the school day, she told them to tell their mothers they loved their offspring. Someone must, Melinda told herself. "It's the thought that counts."

Surprisingly, Mr. Castella was waiting in his office with a smile. "I admire you teaching that class. It is funny, I am your Rubbish Co-ordinator! I like a bird with a sense of humor." Melinda breathed a sigh of relief. "It all adds to my hide like an elephant," she agreed.

"We are teachers! Do you fancy a meal together on Saturday night? We can swap some funny stories ,about our blackboard jungle! I was a Grade Six teacher too, before I landed this job. Now I have to check all the bins!" Melinda and John laughed.

Well, that was the start of something big. Their blooming romance landed a ring for Spring, while one older teacher, divorced, advised Melinda, "Always keep your jobs and qualifications up to date. Any rat can turn." Melinda thought her lady friend was being bitter, but she did listen.

I guess there is no such thing as a perfect Catholic marriage. Melinda and John ventured along matrimony lane, always sharing their ability to laugh. Soon enough, two little princes arrived to their devoted parents.

Melinda stepped back from her classroom teaching while her sons were very young. There was no such thing as a perfect parent either. But, thirty-five years later, John and Melinda proudly welcomed their first born grandchild. He was the cutest little baby boy. Like his grandfather, his butt looked cute in everything, Melinda decided, changing her grandson's nappy.

The very beaming grandfather, John Castella, was taking photos of his one true heir to his living legacy, a happy family. John was by now a well-respected principal. Melinda was still tutoring, part-time. John asked her, while they shared photos of their little lord, "What do you think of his name?" Melinda had a bit of a chuckle. "I know. He is Richard Castella. R.C. How apt. Our own little Rubbish Co-ordinator!" John smiled. Then Melinda said, "By the way, it is Monday again. Have you done the bins.? The rubbish needs doing, Mr. R.C!" It is always the thought that counts.