Highly Recommended!

I love Catholic schools.  I think their academic standards are excellent, although I still question some of their religious beliefs.  Yes, I respect their worldwide excellence in contributing not only on an academic level, but charitable as well.  Furthermore, I have to admit, while my siblings went to Catholic school during most of their academic training, I on the other hands went there, during some of my academic years.  Honestly, one day I could not stop myself. I felt obliged to squeeze the wrath out of one particular nun. That’s when I asked her the following question:

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

Yap! She was one of my elementary school teacher. Her name Was Sister Marie, but I called her “Sister Morte,” which meant in French “Sister Dead”

“What did you say?” She answered me. So I repeated:

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed THIS MORNING?”

“Venez ici – Petite impertinente!” Meaning “Come here you little impertinent!”

I did not budge. “Come here – I said!” As she slightly raised her voice.

“Not with that ruler in your hand Sister! Remember, last time you hit me so hard,  the palm of my hand turned as red as a plum tomatoe. Yes, it was swollen for two days, just because I wore a blue SOCK instead of WHITE!”

So, as she proudly raised her chin, she said: “The prowwww-per uniform code is “Whittt’e shirt. Naaaa-vy blue skirt. AND “white,” Yes “WHITTT’E Sock!”  But, you were wearing BLUE sock, and today, you are still wearing a BLUE SOCK!”

So I answered her in the same tone: “Well Sister MORTE, do you remember that I Aaaaaam a chiiiiiiii-ld  and, this is what the sorcière (meaning witch) caring for ME, gave ME to wear this morning? For all I know, you both are probably sisters!”

“Young lady, you must not call your mother a witch.” By then she was trying to grab me by my ear.

So I started playing jump rope between the chairs, so she could not catch me, while I answered her: “For your information, I was not referring to my mother, because she lives in New York, while Im here in Haïti, with another hateful woman.  I BET you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? “Since you are stuck between these four walls, like you were in jail, where you deserve to be!”

“Ok young lady, I’m taking you to the principal office!”

“Good! Because I don’t want to be in your class anyway!” Then, I ran out of the class before she could catch me.

She took a short cut and met with me near the garden where I was standing admiring the flowers. As soon as she saw me, she straightened her posture, raised her chin in the air, made her look like a flat iron board, as she walked passed me.  She occasionally turned back to stare at me, by then I was hoping on one leg, while I held the other leg with my hand. By the look she gave me, I could read in her mind; “as if she thought of me as the child from hell. But couldn’t bring herself to say it, for fear she would see a reflection of herself.”  So I kept on hopping.  Annoyed, she finally turned toward me to say in a calm voice:

“Young girls must not hop like this, so walk properly!”

So I replied “And dead nun should not walk with their chin up, a fly may come and hide inside their nose!”

So I kept on hoping. Then I saw another bush of pink roses. They were so beautiful, I felt compelled to at least touch them.  While I admired them, I also cut a handful to make a bouquet for Sister Claire. She was my favorite nun, and she was not only beautiful but pleasant as well.  But when sister Morte noticed I was cutting the flowers, she yelled, “Leave the flowers alone!”  So I turned to her and said:

“And WHY?”

“Because they are not here for you to cut, but to beautify the school yard – Petite impertinente!”

“Excuse me Sister Morte, but If you were a true nun, you would understand that God created these gorgeous flowers not only to beautify the schoolyard, but for me to give them to my favorite sister, and it’s not for you either!  And I bet you will never get some flowers because you are too mean!”

Just as I was shaking my little head, with my butt pointing behind, I sensed a presence. When I turned, it was my favorite priest, standing with his arm crossed over his fat stomach. Then he said: “Another feud between you two?”

“Good morning Father Bald head!” I shouted with a smile.

But she greeted him without a smile “Good morning father Pierre.”

Father Pierre pleasantly answered, “Good morning! And good morning to you both! But what is going on between you two again?”

As she held both of her hands together, as if she was about to say a prayer, she promptly answered, “Father, I highly recommend we transfer this troubled child to a more suitable school.” Furthermore, I strongly recommend some major penance for her as well, or I’m afraid she will be a lost case.”

Father Pierre turned to me with a questionable stare, awaiting an answer. Thankfully I had just watched the movie Dracula for the first time, so I had a whole bucket full of new expression. I held both of my hands together just as she did, like I was about to saymy prayer. Then I answered him:

“Father Bald head, I think you should return Dracula’s wife back to him. If not, Sister Morte will suck all the children blood from this school!”

To be continued