Catholic School in the 1960's

[brooklyn1958]

Anybody go to Catholic School in the 1960's?
What was it like? Did the nuns have male names like Sr. Thomas Ann? Mine did and we were scared to death of them.
Did you get punishments?
We had to write until our hands dropped off! There are laws against that now. It's called corporal punishment. If you were punished in school you didn't want your parents to know because you would get punished again.
Did you ever visit the convent?
It was beautiful. Shiny marble floors and the nuns did smoke!
We only had about 65 kids in the class, so much for differentiating instruction.
It was always sink or swim. By 4th grade all the sinkers were usually thrown out.

Care to share? Join in

[Leslie]

I went to Catholic school starting in 1966. I remember the first grade Sister. She told us we were NOT allowed to erase and that she would know if we had. She said she had a machine that could tell. We were scared to death of her. I remember she was old and had hairs on her chin. Lots of Catholic school memories! I laugh now but then it was horrible.

[sfh]

I went to Catholic Schools from 1961-1974. K-12. Sisters for the first 9, Brothers for the last 4. It was a fabulous education and the majority of our class scored better on tests and were well ahead of our public school contemporaries academically when we graduated.

That said. The nuns were tough....some psycho's and others very nice. All were committed to your academic and spiritual growth. But they disciplined aggressively and scared the piss out of you....I mean that literally. Especially until you were in about 3rd grade and were accustomed to the environment. They were very creative and sadistic in their methods and punishments. In hind sight, I would say many of them had their own hang ups that they were trying to escape by joining the order and escaping into convent life.

The brothers were a whole new level of terror! That is for another conversation.

I would not change one bit of it though and consider myself very fortunate because of my parents sacrifice and the nuns/brothers commitment.

[Robert Neil Coupe]

I am now 62, and although I was born in England and living there since 1976, I was educated in the United States in Buffalo, NY, and had half of my education in Catholic school.  Fifty years ago when I was 12 I still can never forget a good hiding a Polish nun who was my 6th grade teacher gave me just for having a dirty book cover on my geography text book when the books were being collected in the run-up to the final June exams at the end of the school year.  I had tried my best to make the book cover look respectable (as damage limitation) even though the nun warned us of beatings if we had dirty book covers, because I was unable to obtain a new clean book cover in time.  It had only been a day's notice.  When she got to my desk she screamed the Lord's name in vain in Polish and started repeatedly slapping me over the back of the head about 17 times, knocking my glasses off.  Although a painful beating, it was actually more embarrassing and humiliating than physically painful for me right in front of the class with some of them laughing at me.  It reduced me to tears.  Immediately after the beating the nun threw a roll of masking tape at me after I said, "It looks dirty", and she replied angrily, "It is dirty!" and also provided me with brown paper as a make-do book cover.

[John Cartoni]

I attended St. Athanasius Grade School in Brooklyn, NY, from 1958 to 1966. Yes the nuns there at that time were pretty rough -- they slapped kids across the face, pulled you around by your ear, etc. -- but they were also fair. I had behavioral problems as a boy, so I was one of the kids who was always acting out, so I seemed to always be getting my face slapped at least once every single day of all 8th grades, sometimes even twice a day -- once in the morning and once in the afternoon -- so I was the boy who frequently had a nun's red handprint on my face. But when I think about how so many kids today behave so unruly, maybe that kind of strict discipline is what is needed today. John

[Bob Aiello]

What a small world! I too went to St. Athanasius Grade School in Brooklyn, NY, and had the misfortune of being in the same class as poster John Cartoni from second through sixth grades, and the horror of sitting right next to John in fifth grade. I find his statement about kids today behaving unruly, quite amusing coming from him, because not only was John one of the worst behaved boys, but he also picked on and bullied myself and about three other boys, and since I sat right next him in fifth grade, I was his main torturing target for that entire year.

I learned early on that the sisters pretty much only slapped the bad boys, like John, although there were some exceptions. And John is right, he did indeed always seem to be getting his face slapped, because he was so bad!

What John might not know is how much joy myself and the other boys he picked on got every time Sister slapped his face and cut him down to size, changing his whole demeanor. I took great pleasure in seeing this big, arrogant, bully sitting there looking so meekly and with Sister’s clear red handprint on his face!

[Brigid Maloney]

I was educated at a Catholic school for girls in Sydney, Australia, between 1958 and 1966. Although housed in a modern building, the school was run on old-fashioned lines, the nuns being Sisters of Mercy.
The following are some of the memories I have of the school. The day/boarding school had Irish origins for the Brigidine order of nuns, founded by Bishop Daniel Delany in Ireland in 1807, was the post Reformation re-establishment of an earlier order of nuns led by the Irish Saint Brigid in the fifth century. The new intrepid Brigidine missionaries sailed to the Antipodes in 1883 and established several schools in Australia and New Zealand.

While there were many subjects, there was a strong emphasis on music, languages and a commercial school within the larger school. Baby boomer era classes had 40 students in them—I recall a class of 45 one year. We started each lesson with a prayer, wore uniforms, helped nuns and thought the whole world was like this.

New girls were given the school rules to learn by heart in the first week. After that, you had no excuse for transgressing them.

Prominent among the rules were those concerning school uniform, a matter in which the Mother Superior took an obsessive interest. Our uniforms were a beige gingham dress and yellow sash, with the school crest and motto Quantum Est Sapere on the pocket, straw boater with a ribbon in school colours (or navy beret) and white ankle socks, and cotton gloves.

What was worn beneath was also strictly prescribed: white brassiere, navy slip in winter and navy cotton knickers, of generous cut and tight leg elastic, which dug into the flesh of our thighs.

At general assemblies in the courtyard, we looked up at the Mother Superior standing on a raised balcony, as if to God’s messenger who had descended to give a report of earthly doings and what Heaven wanted done henceforth.

We attended Mass in Latin, sang hymns in Latin and studied Latin. Our quietly spoken, yet determined teacher Sister Conleth, managed to convey to us that conjugating verbs in Latin and translation, was essential to any kind of semi-decent life on earth. She would begin each class with Salve puellae (“Hello girls”) and then get down to business. Not to do one’s Latin homework was simply human perfidy and would produce abject horror on her face. I am amazed my school retained large Latin classes despite the anti-Latin forces beyond but Sister Conleth, of blessed memory, was a supernatural tour de force.

Our English teacher, Sister Loyola, led us to believe that life without literature was not worth living either. We memorized poetry and Shakespearean passages and pondered Hamlet’s problems as if they were our own. Strangely, there was no critique of the French revolution as we sang the Marseillaise, to practice our French. Sister Clare inducted me into the world of music.

Rings, bangles, clips or any other kinds of adornment were forbidden.

The Mother Superior used to hold unannounced uniform inspections. She’d enter a classroom, speak briefly to the nun, and before anyone had a chance to as much as slip off a bracelet the class was marched to the assembly hall and lined up. Names were first taken of any girls whose hair was not bobbed, braided or tied back according to regulation. Then, in her black habit and white coif, our head nun went down the row of apprehensive girls, pausing long enough to cast an eye over each, and lift the hems of tunics with her fountain pen.

Skirt length was, of course, a burning topic in the early 1960s. The tunic or dress had to cover the knees, and however much we might complain, this was non-negotiable. A girl who put up her tunic to make a mini-skirt was dealt with for defiance.

Girls called out of the line had to face a form teacher made angry at having been disgraced, and the following morning these girls had to present themselves to the headmistress correctly attired.

The Mother Superior used to stand at the window of her room high above the school gate watching. If she caught sight of a girl entering or leaving school without hat and gloves, someone was despatched immediately to take the culprit’s name.

Bad, rude, or rebellious behaviour was not tolerated and was punished immediately. The culprit would be either bent over the desk, or put across the nun’s knee. The Sister would then raise the girl’s dress and slip, and she would be spanked on her knickers with either the nun’s hand or the back of a hairbrush.

I was one of the “good” girls so I was never spanked. But some girls weren’t so lucky. When I was in Fourth Form (Grade Ten today) the school hired its very first lay teacher, a male economics teacher named Mr. McGregor. He was a tall and strong man and generally a good natured chap. However, he was allowed to punish us in the exact same manner as the nuns did, which of course made us feel a bit uncomfortable knowing that he would be staring at our knickered bottom during the punishment. On his very first day, he explained to the class that as long as a girl behaved herself, she would get along quite well with him. However, if a girl misbehaved or acted rebellious, he would not hesitate to put her across his knee and give her plenty of what he called, bottomly trouble.

Luckily for us, Mr. McGregor only spanked as a last resort. Although the class rebel, Rosemary Fitzgerald, did try his patience. She was a very pretty and shapely girl, who had modeled during summer vacation, and I remember her remarking that “All men are the same. If he ever hoisted up my skirts he’d become so overwhelmed by the sight of my bum in those knicks that he’d probably be so embarrassed that he’d pull my skirt right back down again and let me up immediately.”

So Rosemary just had to test Mr. McGregor. One afternoon he caught her chewing gum. When he asked her to spit the gum out, she refused. He then asked her a second time. Once again she refused.

He calmly walked over to Rosemary’s desk and firmly grabbed her by the back of her neck. He then lifted her out of her seat and marched up front to the rubbish tin. He pushed her face into the tin holding her there until she finally spit the gum out.

Still holding her firmly at the back of her neck with one hand, he pulled his chair out and sat down, pulling Rosemary across his lap. From that point on, everything happen very quickly. He lifted up Rosemary’s skirt and slip, exposing her knickered covered bottom.

To Rosemary’s dismay, Mr. McGregor did not in the slightest way become overwhelmed by the sight of her bottom in knickers. Instead he held her very firmly in position with his left hand as his right hand repeatedly smacked the seat of her knickers. He did not need to use the hairbrush as his hand smacked extremely hard, and since using one’s hand to spank was not limited to 12 whacks like when using the hairbrush, he was able to smack her for as long as he wanted to.

At first Rosemary tried to holdback the tears, but as the smacking progressed she started crying openly, and by the time he finished her face was as red as a beet. When he did finish, he quickly pulled her skirt back down into place, and let her up, once again grabbing her firmly at the back of her neck, and then he marched her back to her desk and firmly sat her down (actually he plopped her down) on the hard wooden seat.

Needless to say, Rosemary did not ever chew gum again in Mr. McGregor’s class.

Brigid Maloney

[Mrs. Susan Halloran]

As I was just telling my granddaughters, ages 14 and 16, who both attend Catholic schools that they don’t realize just how easy they have it these days, and that’s how I came across your forum. Back in the sixties, starting at age 13, I was a boarder at St Mary’s Boarding School for Girls, in Cambridge, which was founded 1898 by the sisters of the Venerable Sister Mary Ward and the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, better known as the Sisters of Loreto (not to be confused with the American Sisters of Loretto). Sister Helen Ward was declared Venerable by Pope Benedict about 10 years ago. Sister Helen Ward also founded a school of the same name in Ascot, Berkshire. The school had both borders and day-girls.

The day-girls had it quite easy in comparison. We borders had to keep our dorm space quite tidy.

Discipline was of the upmost importance, and those nuns were extremely strict and spanked quite freely. But as much as girls were spanked during school hours, for us borders it was after school hours that the most spankings took place. For instance, there were always nuns patrolling the hallways in the evening hours before lights-out, and with four teenage girls in one dorm room sometimes our talking and giggling got way too loud to say the least. Whenever a sister heard a girl, or girls, talking too loudly, she wound enter the room and ask the guilty party, or parties, to confess. Since we were on the honour system, you would always own up to it and then you’d get spanked, because otherwise if no one confessed, sister would summon three additional nuns and all four of us girls would get spanked. The exact same thing applied for any talking at all after lights-out.

For these spankings, the standard procedure was for the sister to sit down on the girl’s bed and put the girl across her knee. She would then lift up either the girl’s school uniform skirt, or her nightdress. Then depending on the nature of your “crime”, and whether it was a first time or repeated offense, it was left entirely up to the discretion of nun administering the spanking whether you were going to be spanked over your school knickers and night dress undies, or if she was going to peel your knickers or undies down. I distinctly remember the feeling of lying across a nun’s lap as my skirt or night dress was raised-up, and then how my heart would sink as I felt sister’s fingers grabbing hold of the waistband of my school knickers or night dress undies and pulling them down, because I knew that it meant that the spanking was going to stink so much more. As soon as sister would start administering the spanking, I would always put my hand back to try to protect my bare bottom from the hard smacks, and this would annoy sister who would scold, “You had better take that hand away, young lady, or you’ll get extra!”

Like I said, young ladies today don’t realize just how easy they have it.

Susan

[Bob Aiello]

This is a follow up post. As I already mentioned in an earlier post how I and three other boys were frequently bullied by poster John Cartoni at St. Athanasius Grade School in Brooklyn, NY during the sixties, and how in fifth grade I was his main torturing target because I was stuck sitting right next to him for that entire year. I also already mentioned how much I enjoyed every time a Sister slapped his face and cut him down to size.

However, I would like to mention one specific time which really stands out in my memory. It was during Confirmation rehearsals in fifth grade, which took place in the school’s basement chapel. The chapel was loaded with boys not only from St. A’s, but also with Catholic boys from the nearby public schools, but there only three nuns supervising, so the real fresh kids like John had a field day fooling around, bullying and doing mean things to kids like me.

To make a long story short, we were on line practicing to go up to the alter where a boy older than us pretended to be the Bishop and confirm each of us. In those days the procedure was that the Bishop would tap each kid across the face cheek in order to Confirm them.

As we were waiting our turn, John was being his usual arrogant big shot self, he had his head turned around doing something fresh to another boy and John had this big silly grin on his face. So because John’s head was turned he didn’t notice that Sister Mary Catherine (our teacher that year in fifth grade) had walked up right next to him. Sister screamed “JOHN!!!, and as John turned his head around and looked at Sister Catherine, she gave him such a hard slap across his face, the crackling sound of which loudly echoed throughout the chapel and completely wiped that silly grin off John’s face! Sister then added, “THAT’S ENOUGH OUT OF YOU FOR THIS AFTERNOON!!!”

It was then our turn to go up to the alter and pretend to get Confirmed, and after that we had done that we then went back to our pew and sat down again. John sat there no longer looking like a big shot, but now like a meek little mouse. And then we all laughed as another boy remarked about Sister’s red handprint which was clearly visible on John’s left face cheek: “It looks like John Cartoni really just got Confirmed!”😂

Bob

[Rosemary Wilson]

I went to a Catholic Secondary boarding school in Brisbane, in the sixties. The Sisters there were very strict, and corporal punishment was used extensively, even for girls in Sixth Form (Grade 12 today).

The standard procedure was for the girl to be bent over the Sister’s desk from the Sister’s side, so that the girl’s face would be facing the rest of the class. In other words, so that the other girls only saw the girl’s face, while only the Sister saw the girl’s knickered bottom when Sister raised the skirt of the girl’s uniform and administered the spanking (spankings were always administered skirt up on the knickered bottom). When Sister finished, the girl would then return to her desk, red-faced and crying.

One of the strictest nuns we had was Sister Agnes, who looked as if she was a hundred years old. She never smiled and we called her “Hag” behind her back. She seemed to always be spanking, and whenever she spanked a girl, she always looked so incredibly stern while doing.

Although I remember one time when I was in Third Form (Grade 9 today), when Sister Agnes spanked three girls, one right after the other. Sister administered a thorough spanking to the first girl, and then to the second girl. Sister then had the third girl bend over her desk in the usual position. However, as Sister lifted up the third girl’s skirt, Hag’s usual stern expression surprisingly turned into a giant grin!

For a second or two I was quite puzzled by this. I had never even seen Sister Agnes so much as smile before, and now she was grinning widely from ear to ear. Then Sister said something to the girl which I was unable to completely make out, although I was able to make out the words, “you are indeed very naughty”. However, once Sister began smacking the girl’s bottom, I immediately recognized the unmistakable “sound” of hard smacks from a bare hand landing on a bare bottom, and realized that this girl was not wearing any knickers! Sister Agnes really had quite a go at this girl’s bare bottom. I’ll bet that the girl never went knckerless again to any class.

Rosemary