Sr. Rose Marie checks a student’s desk for Godknowswhat as my buddy Jim Spinharney muses. Source: Brian Boisson and the eighth-grade yearbook committee.
By John Murphy
Sr. Rose Marie was an excellent teacher and normally a pleasant sort.
But on this day the nun’s eyes turned crimson and bulged out. It was scary. My buddy Keith Larsen and I knew we were in trouble.
Rewind to 1970, eighth grade at St. Robert’s School in San Bruno. As usual, the eighth grade boys were running amok, heaving dirt clods at each other, scaling fences and causing mayhem. It was all great fun, until our teacher, Sr. Rose Marie, decided to organize us.
A whiffle-ball league was the ticket, she thought. She appointed four captains, including Larsen and me. We were all given score sheets affixed to square backings.
The league lasted, oh, about three days until we tired of it — setting the scorecards down in favor of other diversions. Meantime, the sixth graders saw our discarded scorecards as dandy Frisbee material and, like stars in a Wham-O commercial, hurled them about the blacktop.
Long story short, Sr. Rose Marie came down and found the battered and abused Larsen and Murphy scorecards and went nuts. Next thing we know, we’re headed for the principal’s office, trailing an enraged nun on a mission.
Inside Sr. Dorothy’s office, Sr. Rose Marie raged, loudly recounting our sins. Larsen offered a meager explanation, but they weren’t buying.
Then they turned to me and I — well — refused to speak. Took the fifth. Said nada.
“This boy’s as stubborn as a mule!” Sr. Dorothy said.
That was about it. There wasn’t much they could do. Maybe we got notes sent home to our parents – but they wouldn’t have cared. My folks had more important things on their minds than me sabotaging (allegedly) a whiffle-ball league.
Oh, the guys called me “Mule” for a few days, but I enjoyed that. Then Whiffle-Ball Gate just sort of faded away, replaced no doubt by some other tomfoolery. Ah, the memories.
(The St. Robert’s Class of 1970 is supposed to have its 50-year reunion on Sept. 26. Unfortunately, I will be sheltering in place).
Main Street Dog 