With the start of every new school season came the teacher / student and parent mandatory meeting.  Each year as my mom and I awaited our turn to meet my newest nun, I’d sit clutching the edges of those heavy oak library style chairs with sweaty hands as I tightened my grip like a man facing “old sparky” the electric chair.

My fear was knowing what the very 1st words from my mothers lips would be…

Hi I’m Mary Ferguson, (Smile).
Donald’s mother (Sad Face)
and…
I giving you permission to discipline my son (Smile)!
Do what you feel is necessary to keep him in line….

She always got straight to the point…Her son was being sent to The Blessed Sacrament Elementary a private parochial school for one important reason ….Discipline with a capitol “D“, then… if possible an education and lastly… God willing to implant some manners …..that ……by the grace of God would be icing on the cake in her mind. For most of my life she was a single mom who often worked two and three jobs to support her five sons and needed a little help to ensure we developed as many core values to stay out of trouble as possible.

My mother’s annual bestowing of  “feel free to discipline my son” rights solicited a range of response ….

• “Oh my.. Mrs Ferguson… We don’t think that will be necessary”   or;
  
• “Oh yes. Mrs. Ferguson, Donald is not the 1st Ferguson boy at Blessed Sacrament… so with may the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ
  and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of us this year
  2 Corinthians 13:14   
  
• Now isn’t that right Donald?…
  
• Me: Yes Sista…(Sad Face)

I offer no complaints about my time at BSS even with the conferred right to discipline my son order given by my mom.  Overall the nuns were outstanding teachers and superior human beings… to be honest I don’t ever recall any real punishment that I did not truly deserve.  They were firm but fair…. When you think about it …just to be in their nun club, requires an oath of Poverty, Chastity and Obedience… You have to admit those are some tough job requirements  …Every one of those vows would be a deal breaker for many of us when applying for a life long vocation.  They were all in…. invested in teaching me. Even if those lessons were taught by clapping caulk board erasers, sweeping classroom floors, washing windows and emptying trash.

Thinking back, I believe my mother had insight into the problems teachers had with disciplining boys in the classroom.  She was a bartender at Charlies Tap a blue collar bar in Cambridge Ma. and knew what it took to keep foolish boys in line.  I can only imagine what teachers today have to put up with while trying to teach our kids.

As a teacher once put it…“No one way works for every student.”
I believe that to be a true statement and from experience I know that what worked for me in the early years changed after the 6th grade.

The Day The Tables Turned For Me….

Whenever discipline problems developed with students at The Blessed Sacrament School a note would be sent home summoning the students parents to the convent (nun crib) for a “Progress Report” meeting to discuss/resolve the issue.  These were not meant to be discussion where a student got to debate the merits of their case against them… They were a reading of the riot act and a parent teacher only input session.  So to ensure that the proper “attitude” was in place prior to any convent meeting my mom would administer an adjustment warm up spanking before we set off.  

Now you have to understand that by this time I’m a 6th grader and feeling pretty sure that spankings were only for junior members of the Ferguson tribe by now.  This fact did not resonate with my mother who was very put out to state it mildly having to make another appearance at the nunnery.  She figured we were past all this nonsense with me misbehaving and the fact that my younger brother Kevin was a great kid and an alter boy which meant he had special dispensation from sin….putting her home free in her mind.

So that night after supper we set off to the convent on Erie Street… me sniffling along about ten paces behind my mother…. up the seven city blocks to the convent.  We rang the door bell and were greeted by Sister Patrick the house nun.  Mom requested to see Sister Joan and Sister Patrick ushered us to the visitors  room.

Sister Joan entered the room and greeted my mom with a smile… “Hello Mrs. Ferguson and thank you so much for coming out this evening”  She then glanced over to find me whimpering and I’m wondering to myself how she could be smiling knowing that I’d soon be facing a firing squad.  

Where do they teach these nuns to be so cold…Siberia, I thought to myself…   What transpired then was a day I’ll never forget:

Sister Joan: Donald what’s the matter dear?

Me: I don’t know what I did wrong… but I’m sorry.

Sister Joan: Mrs Ferguson?

Mom: Sister..in our house whenever one of my son’s does something wrong at school they know it calls for a spanking before they come to the convent to ensure their attitude is adjusted.

Sister Joan: Oh, Mrs. Ferguson….There has been a terrible mistake!
The reason I asked you to come see me this evening was to report how wonderful Donald is doing in school and what a pleasure it is for me to have him in my class…

The next ten minutes passed and I don’t believe my mom spoke a word… Sister Joan continued to speak about my progress.  Neither of us heard a single word.  We were both in a state of shock…  what alternate universe were we in now???  When she was through Sister Joan thanked us again for coming and as we turned to leave she gave me a hug goodby and said I’ll see you in class tomorrow Donald.  As I left ….I said: I hope so…

As the door closed behind us we both stood on the convent stoop in silence.  My mom finally spoke and said… Well I guess you deserve an apology…  Let’s go the Brighams in Central Square for an Ice Cream Sunday…OK?

Looking back… I know if I were a better son that day, I’d have gone for the ice cream but this was a defining moment for me and I didn’t want it to pass.. I’d crossed over into a new pace in my mothers eyes… one of respect and maturity and I wanted us both to relish it for a bit longer.

I’d rather just go home mom …I sad sadly…..

From that day on the annual teacher/parent/student meeting started much differently.

“Hi I’m Mary Ferguson, (Smile)   ….Donald’s mother (Smile).  

I’d become disciplined, gained an education and manners… but the most important thing that happened in 6th grade was that Sister Joan saw something in me and was dedicated enough to help me and my mom see it too…Thank you Sista…for helping me survive Parochial School..