Sunday Fill - Part 3

When I was in the 2nd grade, my teacher's name was Sister Aloyisius. She was an ancient little Nun with a wavering voice and a palsied hand. I was teacher's pet.

We had a young lad in our class who was something of a Drama Queen. At some point or other the rest of us boys in the class discovered that if pinched, Lawrence would scream. Usually, we tortured this poor lad on the playground, during recess. But occasionally, when Sister was turned away and facing the blackboard (which really WAS black, in those days), Lawrence would get pinched while seated in class. He never seemed to know who his tormenter was, or if he had a suspicion, it could never be proven. There would be these periods of head down, in the book concentration suddenly punctuated by a sharp scream from Lawrence. Anyway, one day, as Sister was at the blackboard, I leaned over, across the aisle, to deliver one to Lawrence, when Sister whirled around and caught me in the act. She came flying down the aisle that separated our rows of desks and delivered a resounding blow across my cheek. I was made to stand in the corner, facing away from the room, until I was ready to say 'Sorry' to Lawrence.

Later that day, as I was at me desk, head down, writing something or other, but in deep concentration, I was suddenly aware of the presence of Sister. Behind me. No rattle of beads or footstep or anything else gave her presence away, but I KNEW she was there. I turned, and looked up, and said, "Sister Aloyisius, I love you." She reached out and took my face in her hands, bent down, and smiled at me, gave me a little shake and then walked on, on patrol, looking for violators of the peace.

I don't know whatever happened to Lawrence. He never came back for 3rd grade. They probably moved or something. As for Sister Aloyisius, she died while I was in Viet Nam. I found out, after I came home, that she had asked for me while on her deathbed. One of the real regrets of my life is that I couldn't be there for her. She was a sweet heart.