It was 1980 when I was last enrolled in a formal academic year program, pursuing my M.A. in liturgical studies at the University of Notre Dame. Thirty-two years later and 65 years old, I still rejoice every September in knowing that I don’t have to go back to school!
All
things considered, I remember these 22 years in school (a third of my life!) as
happy and successful but Labor Day’s a happier holiday for me just for knowing
it won’t be followed by classes, homework and papers to write.
This
time of year always brings to mind my first day of school in September 1952.
(Back in the day in Danvers, MA there was no public preschool or
kindergarten.) On that day my mother helped me cross Hobart street to the back playground of the Maple
Street School where I was about to enter the first grade.
Approaching
the schoolyard I remember telling my mother I had “a funny feeling” in my
stomach. She said, “That’s just
butterflies in your tummy – nothing to worry about.” Unfamiliar with that image, I now had more to worry about
than just starting school. I began to wonder if butterflies might fly out of my mouth the first time my
teacher asked me my name!
But
now we were at the school’s front door and it was time to go in…
After
helping me find my classroom, introducing me to my teacher and leading me to my
desk, my mother kissed me goodbye and told me she’d see me after school. She left me in the care of Mrs.
Winn, my first grade teacher.
It’s
amazing how clearly I can picture her face and hear her voice even now. Within moments of my encounter with
this lovely lady, the “butterflies” were gone, not one having escaped my lips. If
I remember correctly there were 42 students in my classroom but somehow Mrs. Winn’s
soft-spoken words never failed to reach all of her students. She was a perfect first grade teacher.
Mrs.
Winn accomplished a remarkable, much underestimated feat in my first year of
school: she taught my classmates and me how to read and write. Not one day of
my life has passed since then that I’ve not used the basic skills she taught me
in those ten months of first grade.
(She also tried to teach me to add and subtract – but that’s a story for
another day!)
My
life’s work is immersed in reading, writing about and preaching the
scriptures. As a Catholic pastor
my ministry is deeply sacramental but no sacrament is celebrated silently or
outside the context of words and prayers read and proclaimed from the bible and
ritual books. My preaching and
leading prayer depend on a working knowledge of the same 26 letters Mrs. Winn
taught me to read and write and to understand as words and sentences back in
the first grade.
Mrs.
Winn has a permanent place in my heart and right alongside her is Mr.
Silvernail, my sixth grade teacher who, after a very troubling incident at
recess on the school playground, had just the right words to comfort me and strengthen
me to face again the classmates whose rejection of me had been so painful.
At
Bishop Fenwick High School in Peabody, there was Miss Pariseau, my French
teacher, who seemed to understand me far better than I understood my adolescent
self at the time. And there was
Sr. Marie Frederica, S.N.D., my glee club director who nurtured and encouraged
in me a love of music and singing.
At Cardinal
O’Connell Seminary in Jamaica Plain, Fr. John Farrell, who taught me Latin and
Greek, might be surprised to know how much influence he had on me and my call
to ministry, simply by his being so genuinely the man and priest he was.
I’m
grateful, too for Robert Taft, SJ from whom I learned more about liturgy and
prayer in one semester at Notre Dame than I did in all the rest of my 10 years
of studying theology.
I
was blessed with many great teachers yet none of these would have had a chance
with me had Mrs. Winn not first taught me how to read and write.
This
September, join me in remembering the women and men from your school days who
taught and shaped and readied you for life in so many different ways. Be in touch with them if that’s
possible and let them know how grateful you are. Certainly, we can all offer a
prayer of thanksgiving for those whose teaching and guidance meant so much to
us along the way.
School’s
about to open and whether you’re going
back or sitting back like me, take
some time to remember your teachers and to thank God for them.
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