“Often, a school is your best bet-perhaps not for education but certainly for protection from an undead attack.”

The weather today is much like yesterday’s except we have a wind strong enough to whip the top branches of the scrub pines, and it has started to rain. I have to go out later so I hope the rain is short-lived.

When I was a kid, I seldom stepped over the line, but I did walk it. In school, during part of the eighth grade, I sat by the windows. The bookcases were under the windows and beside my desk. They were my hiding spots. I kept my transistor radio there and a few pieces of candy. My favorite candies were Mint Julep and Banana Splits both of which were a bit chewy so they lasted longer. When I ate one, I’d hide behind a book so Sister Hildegarde couldn’t see me chewing. I wore one ear piece from my radio in the ear facing the window, away from view, but one day all that subterfuge didn’t matter. My worst fears were realized. I was chewing a spearmint candy and listening to the radio when Sister Hildegarde called on me. I managed to spit the candy into my hand but didn’t have time to pull the ear piece without getting caught. I stood up, as we always did, when called upon. Sister Hildegarde noticed the ear piece. I figured I was doomed, but I wasn’t. Sister Hildegarde thought it was a hearing aid and wanted to know if she was speaking loud enough for me to hear. With a giant sigh of relief, I said she was. If it had been any other nun, I would had to wear that ear piece all year, but, luckily, it was Sister Hildegarde. She forgot.

In my senior year of high school, my desk in English class was right next to the backdoor of the classroom. That proved to be far too much of a temptation. I sneaked out that door more than a few times. I even convinced my friend to join me. It wasn’t that I had anywhere else else go. I just couldn’t resist the challenge. I still don’t understand why Mrs. Baker didn’t notice the sudden appearance of an empty desk and sometimes two empty desks.

Ironically, for a long time, I was a high school assistant principal in charge of discipline. It was at the same high school I had attended. Every time I did some corridor walking I walked by that back door, I always chuckled a bit.

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8 Comments on ““Often, a school is your best bet-perhaps not for education but certainly for protection from an undead attack.””

  1. olof1 Says:

    🙂 🙂 I laughed out loud when I read about that ear piece 🙂 I wouldn’t have dared to do that myself 🙂

    It’s windy here now and it’s getting warmer again. I’m pretty sure that the roads tomorrow morning will be horrible to drive on since all snow will become ice now. I remember one day some years ago when it started to melt fast one night, I must drive uphill for a short while and I just couldn’t get over that last little hump in the road when I tried to drive to work. Every time I tried my car slid down into the ditch 🙂 🙂 Thankfully it was just as easy to get out of the ditch as it was to drive down into it 🙂 Instead I did spend a rather nice day at home 🙂

    Have a great day!


    • katry Says:

      I was a bit brazen as I believe I’d never get caught. I was also a model student who got great grades all the time. I just didn’t seem suspicious. I have friends who still swear I got away with everything.

      Down here on the Cape, I haven’t had slippery moments like that, but when I lived near Boston, I had one that I swore would be the end of me. I slid toward the guardrail over a hill. I tried my best and did everything I knew to do and luckily the car stopped at the rail. It took me a while to stop panting from fear.

      Have a great day!!

  2. Hedley Says:

    Mrs. MDH and I have returned from NYC. We did visit the National September 11 Memorial and Museum. We chose to take a formal tour for the first hour which was guided by a very thoughtful and well prepared individual. We then spent an hour walking through the exhibits.

    They are done an extraordinarily good job in remembering the life and times of those who passed on that day. There was one particular photo of a young firefighter eyes wide open, heading up the stairwell as people headed down to their escape. It was as though he knew his destiny but he was intent on doing his job.

    There are certain areas of exhibit, well concealed that were almost unbearable. After a while I left claustrophobic and we left. It is something that should be seen

    • katry Says:

      My Dear Hedley,
      I have not been to NYC in decades. I would definitely view the Memorial and Museum. When I first get to a city, I usually take a tour so I can get my bearings. I take tours at some museums as their docents are wonderful guides and often show what an individual might not find.

      I can understand that some scenes and narratives are unbearable. I still remember that fence filled with pictures of missing people.

    • Bob Says:

      The world changed on 9-11 and the museum should be like the Holocaust Museum in Washington, both a memorial to the victims with a big dose of Never Again. The enemies of freedom never rest.

      • katry Says:

        I wish never again was really part of the horrors, but I’m not so sure. I am constantly holding my breath with these I can do bigger than you moments.

  3. Bob Says:

    I was always more afraid of my mother than the principal. I wasn’t the best student but I always behaved and followed the rules. Today, I would probably be prescribed Ritalin. 🙂

    The teacher who made a big impression on me was a drafting teacher in high school named Sidney Goldman. He was a no nonsense bald headed man with a mustache who wore thick glasses and had tufts of hair growing out of his ears. I learned a lot about doing the job correctly and accurately in his classes. Mr. Goldman was a strictly by the book teacher but he would sneak smokes in his back storage room during class changes. Mr. Goldman was an engineer for Gruman aircraft during the war and held several obsolete patents for wooden airplane components.

    Today was another clear day with temperatures in the low 60s. The small accumulation of rain over the weekend didn’t make a dent in draught.

    • katry Says:

      My mother was never really scary. It was my father who was. Most of the nuns I had were wonderful teachers. Only the two I mentioned, Sisters Hildegarde and Redempta, were odd. One was scary and the other just too old.

      My junior year teacher, Sister Ernestina, was my favorite of all my teachers followed closely by Sister Marie DeLourdes, my history teacher. They were wonderful teachers who made learning easy. When I taught, I remembered them and tried some of the same techniques.

      It poured and howled today.

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