On little (lost) lambs

It was the Our Fathers that usually elicited gasps. Growing up Catholic and attending 12 years of Catholic school provides one with a host of memories. I think of them now in sensory fashion. The smell of wet wool skirts in the winter when snow fluttered down to dampen my plaid jumper during recess. The…

When teachers conspire

My sister retired this year after decades of teaching at a Catholic elementary school. Milestones like this one always get me thinking. Combine that with the fact that two of my other sisters are teachers, and you have teachers on my brain. There is a thought in Paulo Coelho’s best-selling book, “The Alchemist:” “And, when…

On bad boys, Catholic school and the proverbial dunce’s chair

It was all Dean Passick’s fault. Most things were, in seventh grade. There my studious self sat, in the proverbial dunce’s chair, right next to the teacher’s desk, at least four feet away from any other student. You may as well have put “pariah” on my forehead in permanent marker. At least, that’s how it…