Rule are Meant to be Broken

     Rules are Meant to be Broken

Suzanne Marsh

“I don’t want to go to Catholic School, there is nothing wrong with Public Schools!” It was a losing battle, my mom said I was going and that was the end of it: or was it?” The nuns back in the 1960’s ruled with an iron fist over students; yes rules are meant to be broken. The very thought of the regimentation of Catholic school was enough to make me miserable. I had always been an off beat, rebellious child, but I was about to become the nuns worst nightmare.

The summer of 1963 I was fitted for my uniform, I had already worn a uniform which was a navy blue jumper and white cotton blouse, I hated it all you could see were the uniforms all over the school, I think the nuns decided that if they had to wear a habit, then we could wear uniforms. The Mount uniform was a navy blue long sleeved dress with detachable white collar and cuffs, there was also a summer uniform, a shirt waste dress in light pastel colors such as blue, pink, yellow and green. My summer choice was the yellow, however it was not my choice of clothing. The hems were going up except at the Mount where they were below the knee; no exception to the rule. That was of course a challenge for me. I soon discovered that the nuns played by their own rules. Like most teens I tucked the skirt up above my knees only to find myself kneeling on the floor in front of Sister Mary of the Woods, we nicknamed her “Woody” behind her back of course. Since she was principal of the Mount I couldn’t just stalk off and pretend to ignore her. She also checked my collar and cuffs which admittedly needed washing. I found myself on the way to the Home Economics room where I had to wash my collar and cuffs, dry them, starch them then bring them back for “Woody” to check. “Woody” decided that I needed to learn discipline, so to make up for the classes I missed while washing the collar and cuffs I had to get the assignments from the teachers, remaining at school to make the classes up. I was already disliking this school and “Woody”

“Woody” kept a close eye on me along with the rest of the “Rider’s Club”. I was already hanging with a crowd of undesirables and enjoying myself. We rode horses every Saturday morning, we did however manage to have a snitch in our group. It was a very warm Saturday afternoon, we stopped and bought a couple of six packs of beer. We were underage I was thirteen at the time, I had never had beer and thought it tasted like stale soap, however I was in the car and somehow “Woody” found out. I thought for sure the wrath of God was about to descend upon me. The five of us found ourselves in “Woody’s” office attempting to explain our actions. That was no easy feat, she dissolved the Rider’s Club then and there, I had never seen her that angry before. I always thought nuns were docile women, surprise…

Summer break was not exactly what the nuns had in mind, we had to read twenty-five books and be able to take a test upon return to school. Today I am an avid reader back in 1963 I was not, and twenty-five books seemed like a daunting amount of reading. Classic Comics had most of the books like David Copperfield and A Tale of Two Cities, it was a good thing because otherwise I would have been in deep trouble. I also had to read A Night to Remember and the Diary of a Young Girl, not to mention Catcher in the Rye. Catcher in the Rye I often wondered if the nuns had read that book, I learned all sorts of words that would have gotten my mouth washed out with soap if my mom had heard them uttered.

Upon returning to the Mount as a sophomore I developed a deep seated dislike of the school. I hated the uniform, I spent more time on my knees doing penance in the chapel than I did learning math. Music has always been a favorite pass time of mine, I played the piano and enjoyed it except for my piano lessons with Sister Mary Francis I could never concentrate on the music she was “Fungus Face” behind her back. She taught me while my dad agonized over the music. I hated Tocatina, and refused to practice. My mom, not understanding why I had such a dislike for that piece, I had learned to play the Moonlight Sonata and loved it. They had not met “Fungus Face”, there was no enjoyment there just practice, practice and more practice. My world was ever changing and Mr. Hitchman was our choir director. He was a prima dona, we must learn the musical instruments by their sounds, so we sang about them, “the drum has no trouble just doub doub double, four one, one four.” That did not endear the man to me. However the “Rider’s Club all sat together, we decided to sing loudly and as flat as possible. The song was Chumbera, it was done in four parts, I don’t think even now I could describe the noise of over two hundred girls singing flat. He stormed out of the rehearsal, his face bright red. He, I suppose must have made a stop at “Woody’s” office. She arrived with Mr. Hitchman in tow, her gray blue eyes like an enveloping thunder storm. She strode up to the microphone and as calmly as she could manage: “You young ladies own Mr. Hitchman an apology, the “Rider’s Club” will report to my office immediately.” I knew she was going to suspend me I just had no idea she was going to call my mom. I was in deep trouble if my mom was called, I would be grounded possibly for the rest of my life.

The nuns were rather secretive about the cloister, it was my last infraction before I was asked to leave the Mount; it was a day I’ll never forget. I had made arrangements with a friend of mine to sneak a peak of the cloister. I am not sure what I expected to see, whips for self flagellation, or maybe a hair shirt or two. It was disappointing to say the least; each room is called a cell, they were all painted a stale green. There was a single bed with a crucifix above it, a small closet where the habit went. Nothing else; I was very disappointed, I was also late returning to the second floor, the third floor belonged to the nuns, the dreaded cloister. When I realized the time, I made a dash down the stairs, ran to my locker, grabbed my Economic World book. I ran up the staircase, slid back down to the bottom stair, and there stood “Woody”, it was almost as if she knew where I had been. She helped me up then headed me for her office. I spent more time in there than I did in any classroom. She had called my mom, oh man was I in for it this time! Mom arrived and somehow managed to find the office. She saw me sitting there and fixed me with “the look” which meant wait until you get home your are grounded for life.

I convinced her I would be better off in public school since the nuns had no idea how to deal with me. There have been times over the years when I realize I had a much better education at the Mount, but I simply could not abide by their rules and yes rules are made to be broken.