Memories
The Faulk Way to Walk
Submitted by John Faulk, 03/31/07
I had gotten into trouble for not doing homework for Mrs. A. So she said that she would call my mother and that I had to stay after school for detention to do the work I should have done the night before. My mother told Mrs. A. that if I was that damn stupid, she would not pick me up, and I could think about it on the walk home. After serving my detention, Mrs. A. asked where my ride was. I told her I had to walk home. She then asked where I lived. I told her, and she said she would give me a ride. On the way home, I asked if she could drop me off down the street, out of site from my house so I wouldn’t be in more trouble than I was already in. She did, so I ran around and got good and sweaty for my short ride home. My mother was none the wiser, and to my surprise, she thought the walk home would teach me a lesson and be punishment enough. Thank God for small favors, prayers, and Mrs. A.
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Miscellany of Memories
Submitted by Kim Boucek, 03/29/07
I remember...
...freezing our butts off in the gym because it wasn’t heated all the time in the winter.
...sitting in the cafeteria, in the dark, watching like a slide show on the wall where someone showed us sentences that disappeared faster and faster and then they tested us on what we could remember reading (what was that all about?!).
...the entire class in Miss. Bates’ room, using their hands, pretending to take a movie of her, and she became so flustered she left the room.
...Lisa Rogers and I passing notes in Sr. Valerie’s room and getting busted, only Sr. Valerie couldn’t read the note because of a secret code!
...getting paddled because I was sliding down that hill to the baseball field with the boys and I fell and got my skirt all muddy. Sr. Grace made me sit in the kitchen in my gym clothes while Mrs. Trant washed my skirt.
...Mark Givens fainting in church as we were filing out for communion, John Deley (I think) jumping over the pew to help out and then getting yelled at because the teacher didn’t know what was going on.
...recesses in the field that is now a parking lot at the school—endless games of tag and the boys incessantly pulling my pigtails.
...riding the school bus with John and Kevin Faulk and my brother Buddy. Kevin and Buddy were horsing around and Kevin hit his nose, which then began to bleed profusely. He then turned around with hands full of blood to show us. John then proceeded to puke all over the back of the bus driver because he didn’t like the sight of blood. That was a ride home to remember!
...awesome games of dodge ball in the gym when Sr. Valerie didn’t feel like doing anything in gym class!
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Birds of an Aged Feather
Submitted by Tom Lippert, 03/28/07
Reading Julie’s Sister Ignatia story brought back a memory of my own. One day while in the “Learning Center,” I was approached by dear OLD Sister Ignatia and accosted for having a small conversation with one of my buddies. She said, “Mr. Lippert, birds of a feather flock together and I want you to stand outside in the hallway right this instant for talking when you know you were not supposed to.” So out I went. Not more than five minutes later, one of my fellow students came walking down the hall and entered the room. When the door opened and Sister looked out, she saw me standing in the hallway. She immediately came to the door and asked me what I was doing standing out there in the hall and directed me to take my seat without hesitation. Fortunately for me, I had a great grandmother who was experiencing some of the same type of senility as Sister Ignatia, and I was aware that her mind was not all that it once was. Like Julie’s story, several of my classmates and I did all we could do to hide our tears of laughter.
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DisGRACEful First Kiss
Submitted by John Deley, 03/09/07
I have a feeling that Sister Grace will be a valuable resource as far as these stories go. Indeed, I have my own story.
The first time I ever really kissed a girl was at recess. It was off of the playground behind the school, in the weeds a bit. I thought that we were being quite discreet, but apparently Sister Grace’s radar for deviant behavior was in full working order that day, and right after recess I got called into the office. When asked what I was doing outside with this person, I said that we weren’t doing anything wrong. She said that it was not appropriate to be doing that at school, that it is a private thing, and that I should not have been bragging to all my classmates that I had just kissed a girl.
Fair enough. But when I got home that night, my mother told me that Sister Grace had called and told her that I was kissing and rolling around in the grass with a girl. Rolling around in the grass? The only rolling around in the grass I did at that age was during football practice. I couldn’t believe that she would distort the situation to my parents.
So much for the first kiss being a positive experience. Not to worry. Thousands of dollars in therapy have worked out a lot of these issues.
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Stengel Stunts
Submitted by John Deley, 03/09/07
I will always have admiration for Bill Stengel for jumping two stories off of the roof of the school. I believe Sister Eileen saw him on the way down. At one point, he asked me if I would dangle him upside down by his feet in front of the classroom window. I said I wasn’t quite ready for that.
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Street Sign Had Him in Stitches
Submitted by John Deley, 03/09/07
I don’t know what the obsession was with sliding down hills, but we sure did a lot of it. In the snow, we would slide on our backs down the hill to the baseball field, gaining quite a lot of speed, ruining our down jackets in the process. Pretty fantastic. But this activity wasn’t confined to the winter. Once, in the springtime, we were running and sliding down a grass embankment. What I didn’t know was that there was a two-inch rusty remainder of a street sign still in the ground. Of course, I jumped right on top of it and bled profusely. I had to go to the hospital and get eight stitches in my rear end. What are you laughing at?
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Don’na You Rolla You Eyes
Submitted by Julie (Karel) Falarski, 02/13/07
We were with Sister Ignatia in the Learning Center one day, and I cannot remember WHO was talking, but she yelled at the poor kid. When she turned from him, he rolled his eyes. He thought she did not see—ahhhhhhh...but Nuns see all.
So she walks back over to him, puts her finger right in his face and says, “Don’na you rolla you eyesss atta me! I’lla rolla my eyesss atta you, anda you roll outta da window!” What made it worse, as you well know, was if she had caught any of us laughing, we’d be sent to the office.
So I never looked back up. And my silent tears of laughter were ruining whatever was on the table in front of me. I think everyone in the room was dying. It was the very first time I ever laughed so hard I peed.
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Letting It Slide
Submitted by Jeff Hein, 01/26/07
My favorite memory is sliding down the hill to the softball field using our cowboy boots.
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Blood, Sweat, and Sneers
Submitted by John Faulk, 01/11/07
A vivid memory that I have from St. Al’s is after a recess altercation that my brother got me involved in. I had a bloody nose. I proceeded to the office for medical attention. Upon arrival at the office, Sr. Grace asked what had happened. I pleaded my case but was told that, because I was fighting, I deserved no attention and should go to class.
I went to Miss Bates’ science class, blood streaming down my face and over my shirt. She sent me directly to the office for medical attention. Still bleeding upon my arrival at the office, I was told to return to class. Sitting at my desk bleeding proved to be a distraction to Miss Bates and to the entire class. Escorted by Miss Bates, I returned to the office, where they told her that if my bleeding was that big of a distraction, I should sit in the hall. So there I sat.
The story got interesting when I arrived at home, ruined shirt and bloody face. My mother asked what had happened and then called the school, proceeding to call Sr. Grace names that I had never heard my mom call anyone, especially a nun. The next day, I thought surely I would go to hell, or at least through hell, when I saw Sr. Grace. To my surprise, there were no repercussions. Apparently my mom was more than Sr. Grace had bargained for.
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Excerpt from a 1981 Church Bulletin
Submitted by Tom Interval, 01/02/07
GOOD-BYE, FAREWELL, AUF WIEDERSEHEN, ADIEU
On June 4, 1981, fifty-five eighth graders will graduate from St. Alphonsus School. They will be missed by everyone, especially the eighth grade teachers. Sister Eileen said, “They have been an exceptional group: pleasant, witty, happy, lively, and youthful are some of their many characteristics. As a teacher, I have seen them grow throughout the year, and have been pleased with what I’ve seen. My prayers and good wishes go with them. I pray the values, the education they’ve received at St. Al’s be a permanent part of their lives. I wish them well as they enter a new phase of their lives.” Miss Bates says this class is “one of the nicest ever...I hate to see them go. They all have such great potential.”
The traditional 8th Grade Picnic will be on June 8 at the Don Peters Residence near North Park. Once again, we are indebted to the Peters for offering their beautiful park-like facilities to our students. Parents are needed to help with this picnic, and especially a father or two to act as lifeguard. If you can help in any way, please contact Mary Ann Scutt at 935-2126.
CLASS OF 1981
[The bulletin then listed all class members. To view the Roster, click here.]
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A Truly Hair-Raising Experience
Submitted by Tom Interval, 01/02/07
One of my most physically painful memories at St. Al’s took place in second or third grade. I was in the hallway talking to a friend just before class. When, what to my horrified hair should adhere but a nun’s gripping fingers as she pulled with a sneer.
That’s right. For absolutely no good reason, and without any warning whatsoever, she seized a handful of my hair and yanked it as hard as she could, nearly taking a chunk of my skull with it. Her reasoning: Students shouldn’t be talking in the hallway so soon before class. Sigh. Those were the good-ol’ days.
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A Brief Note: Playing Gym in Our Skivvies
Submitted by Tom Interval, 01/02/07
Boy, did I hate gym class. My feeling had nothing to do with the physical activities themselves. I was just one of those shy kids who was terrified of changing my clothes in front of my peers. Consequently, I “forgot” to bring my gym stuff on a somewhat regular basis. And my good buddy back then—Jim Noland—was in the same boat.
One day, after weeks of testing our limits with Sr. Valerie, Jim and I again left our gym clothes at home, gambling on the notion that she just wouldn’t care. Well, the good sister finally decided to see our bet and yelled, “If either of you forget to bring your clothes again, I’m going to make you play gym in your underwear!” With tears in our eyes, we promised that we would never again forget.
Needless to say, I didn’t bring my clothes to the next class. Fortunately, she didn’t follow up on her threat, and I got away with it yet again. But I paid the price: Devastating psychological torture as I anticipated having to strip down to my skivvies in front of the entire class. You gotta love Sr. Valerie, though. After all, how couldn’t you respect a woman who could (and probably still can) bench press more than the average adult male?
On a related note, for those who don’t know, St. Al’s now has an Athletic Association and a new state-of-the-art gymnasium. Who says kids aren’t spoiled today?