Sharing My Story to Heal the Broken Child - Sr. Christiana and the Horrors I experienced in her 5th Grade Class - Part 2

Before I continue, I would like to take a moment to add an important caveat. In the distant past and in more recent years I have had some wonderful relationships with nuns. In the last few years I even sought spiritual guidance from a Sister of St. Joseph of Carondelet by the name of Sister Bernice and it has been a tremendously positive experience. I also want to reiterate that these are my memories and as such, they may be quite different than the memories of others. Also past experiences are remembered differently by the individuals who went through them, even if they were in the same room at the same time. Sr. Christiana is long gone and she is not here to share her side of the story, nonetheless, I am writing about these things in the hope of healing some of my hurt and also to document my reality. One of my first memories from 5th grade was standing up in the front of the class for the purpose of reciting a poem I was assigned to memorize. I panicked and the words got all jumbled up in my brain. I looked like a fool, a complete idiot. I was never very good at memorization to begin with and here I was, the new kid in the class, trying to calm myself and restart the poem. I did not yet have any friends in this new school and I could sense that my brand new teacher obviously didn't like me for some reason. She showed no mercy! She didn't say, "Okay, take a deep breath and start over again". Instead, I heard her say, "Oh sit down, you're making a fool of yourself." I walked back to me seat with my head hanging in shame and my eyes squeezed tightly to prevent the tears from rolling down my cheeks. It took me until my last semester in college before I could speak in front of a classroom again. Even then, my Professor, a kind and understanding man, who was aware of my phobia, had two strong young men from the class on either side of me, ready to catch me if I fainted. All I needed, Sr. Christiana, was a little encouragement, kindness and support. Why weren't you there for me? I was nine years old, and you failed me. Sr. Christiana, I've often wondered if you thought you were doing my parents and especially my father, a favor. (I'll explain this sentence in my next Blog entry.) Did you think I needed reform having just transferred from the Public School system? Did you think the education at the Catholic School was so superior that you needed to get me up to snuff? The following incident might not have happened in your classroom but it happened at St. Michael's and it will give the reader an indication of the subtle and not so subtle innuendos that an alert kid would observe. One day, just before being released from school, I remember the nun saying very clearly that we were not to leave anything valuable in our desks and we were to make certain that our books were packed away securely because the Public School kids were coming for released-time Religious Instructions. It didn't take a Rocket Scientist to read between the lines that the kids who attended Public School couldn't be trusted. I had recently transferred from PS 76, one of these dens of iniquity, so I guess it followed that I was in need of reform. Is that why you treated me like a second class citizen, Sr. Christiana? to be continued.... the best or should I say the worst is yet to come.