“Sist…Sist…Sist…” That’s the call of the devoted Catholic school
student, begging to answer a question to impress Sister! It was like a chorus of banchies trying to
show off the knowledge gleaned through sweaty brows of the previous night’s
study session! It really didn’t matter
what the answer was, but was more about the sounds that were made. And it seemed Sister was oblivious to their
and my pleading, almost agonizing calls for attention. After all, how DO you fairly call on about 61 eager students competing by waving
arms and hands while stretching impossibly from their seats to reach Sister,
perched on the edge of her desk. The
desk was displayed squarely on a two foot high wooden platform in the front of
the class.
In any public school, this
chaotic enthusiasm would have been rewarded by a teacher’s delirious joy at the
prospect of students eager to share what had been learned the night
before. But not here though! Catholic
school children gone mad! Boys and
girls alike, stretching their seated bodies into twisted pretzels as if to
greet some rock star, instead of the menacing presence in the front who
rewarded such enthusiasm with a stoic look of distain, as if to say, “You had better know that answer!”We had all come to the conclusion that we were probably chanting “Sist…Sist…Sist…” and waving wildly because it had come to symbolize a ritualistic show of, “I’ve studied, and I want you to acknowledge me!” Those who “Sist-ed” the longest and loudest, it was assumed had studied the hardest -into the wee hours of the morning.
I was among them. Since we were chastised for screaming, I
perfected my cries into a wailing and blistering “Sist” almost a death
cry! Effective, I thought, but to no
avail.
With 61 wailing kids, both boys and girls in our eight grade class, it was a highly inefficient way for Sister to conduct a lesson.
So, Sister instituted a
set of name calling cards. This large stack of white paper-stock quality cards,
sat neatly perched with one elastic band (a rubber band to non-New Englanders)
straining to keep 61 name calling cards in an upright position. And there you
have it. …Tidy, efficient, white,
business-like cards, shuffled regularly at the beginning of class each
day. In fact, it was the first thing
Sister did after class began.
We were all used to the
whirling sounds the shuffled cards made in the hands of a highly skilled
shuffler. Perfectly executed. Sister
could have played a mean game of Poker if
she played cards, which we all supposed she did NOT. But looking back on eight grade from where I
sit today, she did have a Poker face that no one in the class would have
disputed!
You would think this to be
the end of the story, but it’s only just the beginning. You see, Sister never counted the number of
cards in the pile nor did she ever notice the pile dwindling throughout that
month of October. But I can assure you I
felt gipped that year. I was too timid
to play the game! …until the opportunity
literally fell into my lap.
Here’s how it all
happened: One day in early October,
Sister’s elastic band, old and fragile from years of wear, broke!!! Sister just
left the name cards stacked high and straight at the edge of her desk as
always. Then it happened! Just as the lunch bell sounded, Joey walked
by Sister’s desk and “accidentally” knocked over the complete stack of name
cards with his elbow. They scattered
everywhere like confetti. Joey made a
beeline to straighten up the cards, making sure each name was faced correctly. The rest of us, and Sister, were anxiously
waiting for our dismissal to lunch. We ALL saw it, all but Sister that is.
Between the height of the platform and the desk obstructing her view, only the
students were privy to what happened next.
Joey, slyly and without missing a beat, slipped his own name card up his
sleeve! He placed the cards in a nice
neat pile on Sister’s desk and lined up like the rest of us. That might have been the first time I saw
Sister crack a smile. Joey was a quiet
boy, long and awkward, a typical boy of 13 years old.
But Joey wasn’t the
brightest bulb on the tree and between his shyness and not studying as much as
he needed to, Joey felt he would be safe from the “name calling” by Sister. Little did Joey realize just how many of us
actually saw his feat of “magic”. Make
the name card go away, and never have to study for the rest of the year! Now, Sister would surely notice a card
missing from the pile!
Well, October passed
uneventfully, and Sister never did call Joey’s name. And she never even noticed that Joey wasn’t
called on. Well, Joey even got up the
nerve to stammer, “Sist…Sist…Sister.” And
by the end of October, he knew he was home free. It looked like he studied, for he pleaded to
be called by Sister, but as “luck” (NOT!!!)
would have it, Joey just smiled and relaxed in class.
Throughout the month of
October, Sister failed to secure the name calling cards with a new elastic
band. Those students who had witnessed
Joey make his name card magically disappear, one-by-one, skillfully extorted
their names from the pile, ensuring a comfortable stint in Sister’s class for
the entire eight grade year.
The girls in the class,
bound by honor but mostly by fear of getting caught, didn’t try removing their
names.
All but me that is, and
only by accident—or the grace or disgrace of God! Shy, sweet, study-until-you-drop me! It happened so naturally. Sister approached me one day after the
students were dismissed for lunch and handed me a wider, new elastic band with
instructions to straighten up the name cards and then rubber band them.
“What?” …Opportunity knocked, and I was aghast!
“Thanks,
Sister,” I mumbled, and set to work. There was my name, typed and right there in
my hand. I had fantasized about a moment
like this. What a fantastic opportunity… to take my name out of the pile! A wave of relief washed over me at the
thought of no more pressure to answer to Sister for the rest of the year!
I even counted the name
cards. I noticed the dwindling
pile. …Ten short of the 61. Surely Sister should have noticed by
now! Trembling, I took my name card out of the pile and slipped
it into my jacket pocket. I then placed
the elastic band snuggly around the name cards, and proceeded to lunch.
Instead of the rush of
victory coursing through my veins, the name card weighed me down like a ten ton
boulder in my pocket. My pocket was now
a burden and my conscience screamed out-“Cheater”!
Should I confess? Tell Sister what I knew about the other 10
cheaters too?
Upon returning to class,
Sister got right to work, and I was safe from her scrutiny. I felt relieved. Only I still wasn’t happy. I still studied each night, but now I wasn’t
playing by the rules. I felt
miserable.
I never did have an
opportunity to replace the name card back, which was my intended plan to ease
my own guilty conscience. But I studied
hard and in class I still called out wildly:
“Sist…Sist…Sister”, and each time, I looked over at Joey who
had started the whole thing. By May, he
was an Oscar contender, but I decided to play it a bit more prudently.
And I suspect that those
ten students who “Sist-ed” the loudest were the very ones who were the safest
from the name card caller—Sister!
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