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I don’t, but my husband has lots of Nun stories. My favorite is from when he was a boy. He had 11 brothers and sisters, so twice a year his dad would take his mom on vacation for a week to get a break from the house and kids. They could never find anyone to babysit 12 kids, so they left all the kids at the Catholic Orphanage for a week. My husband says the worst thing about it, other than being afraid their parents would never return, was the applesauce the nuns made. Children were expected to eat every bite of whatever food was placed before them, and he says “Those Nuns made the most God-awful applesauce you can imagine, but we ate every bite, or else we got our hands slapped with a ruler!”
I’m riveted by the fact that they left the kids in an orphanage while they vacationed! A different era, for sure! And yeah, the knuckle rapping was common.
Yes, and it was a hefty wooden ruler! I’d forgotten about that until I read this! And if you made a commotion about being rapped, other actions would follow, like a private visit with Sister in the cloak room! Thankfully, I don’t remember that ever happening to me! But I might have blocked out the horrible memory! I was shamed in front of a class of 50 for coloring too long on a beautiful picture of my house. I had to go to the front and give my picture to Sister who tore it up and threw it away, and during sharing time I had to sit and watch everyone else and not hide my face like I wanted to, and when I cried I was ordered to stop, which only made it worse. I was 6 and have never been to pre-school or kindergarten and my mother was very sick. There were other incidents throughout the year, over which I would then cry and be reprimanded. I really just wanted to be home. The next year I went to public school.
I went to Catholic School in Northeast Philadelphia and my earliest memories of sisters is how terrified I was of them and then of how I would purposely try to get under their skin because they were so mean.
In first grade I asked to use the restroom and the nun said no, so I wet my pants (on purpose.) I will never forget the scowl on her face or my feeling of control and satisfaction.
Another time: I had a classmate that had polio. The other kids were afraid of her and our nun bullied her, insisting she walk faster. When I tried to help the girl, the sister yelled at me.
I learned passive aggressive behavior in first grade…
Oh my, I could write a book on the years that followed.
Wow. Those are some stories! I’ll bet you COULD write a book!
I have some nun-stories. NOthing as funny as what you just posted. Oh my! I must put a link on my FB page, so my whole giant Catholic family can see it. Still laughing.
I still want to hear them!!! Thanks for sharing!
I didn’t go to Catholic school. I’m not even Catholic (am Lutheran, though, so close). But, I thought I’d see what kind of nun-sense you had going on. 😀
LOL I hope you read the comment about kids being sent to an orphanage for a couple weeks–and THEIR nunsense! Whoa.
I went to catholic school in Queens, NY the nuns were a major force in my life – mostly bad- I was convinced I was a sinner and felt awful about myself. They said I was an underachiever and I proved them right. But the worst thing I remember was when my brother lied about being sick- he stayed home because he was afraid o the nuns. They got me and him in a room and forced me to tell if he was lying by repeatedly asking me if he was really absent because he was sick. Every time i didn’t answer they hit him. I finally told all. My brother always treated me badly and i am sure this is one of the things he has always held against me. Plus he does not like women and I wonder why!
Now those are some complex after-effects. I don’t think today’s nuns are as bad.
Oh Lord… Sister and I had a holy war going on in the 60’s at St.Robert’s. I was kept after Saturday morning catechism classes each and every week.
I want all the gory details, it sounds great!
Nope. I was raised Unitarian Universalist. We don’t have sisters. Just discussion groups.
Oh sweet Jesus, do I have nun stories. Here’s a smorgasborg:
– It was an honor to be chosen to do chores for the nuns in the convent. I was terrified and thrilled when my time came … and horrified when I went down to the basement where the laundry was and saw HUGE bras the size of boulders hanging from laundry lines. Nuns had boobs?! Big boobs?!! And wore bras???!!! I still can’t get the image out of my mind.
– Our nuns – the Filippini Sisters- wore their rosary beads on elastic bands around their waists. It was a true skill to gingerly pull the beads as the sister walked by so they gently bounced against her long, many-layered skirt without noticing.
– On the playground of Our Lady of Mercy school, when the bell rang once we all had to freeze on the spot. The second bell meant you lined up with your class. On the third ring, the classes started an orderly walk into the building. As we walked up the stairs leading to our wing of the school one day, i stepped on the heel of my friend Anne Marie’s shoe, and she stepped out of it. I grabbed it and threw it, to my horror, right under the skirt of Sr. Beatrice the Horrible. I quickly grabbed the shoe under her skirt as her attention was elsewhere and kept walking. But it was too late – she had seen the whole thing. BIG trouble, Catholic girl. The rest is a blur – terror has obliterated my memory. I have to call Anne and ask her what she remembers.
Can’t stop laughing–boobs!