Catholic Nun Habit

Sister Mary Lefthook

Grassy Knoll Institute Verses 1960’s Catholic Nuns.

The Alpha-Omega. It was 1965, September, Youngstown, Ohio. My battle with a pack of wild Catholic nuns began the moment I stepped into the classroom in first grade. The battles would be epic against this black robed gang and now after 40 years, they can finally be revealed.

The era in which I speak of was the 1960’s. When Nuns were Nuns. Not like they are today. But mean, nasty, sneaky, and vicious, with goddam excellent aim.

Back in 1965, during first grade, there was one particular nun named Sister Ann Teresa. She was our teacher. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, really old to my six year old standards. She, like all the other nuns that I ever saw, came dressed in the exact same uniform of the day. All were dressed in black robes. Some may say skirts or dresses, but they looked like robes. The robes had very deep pockets enabling the nuns to conceal chalk board erasers and other dangerous projectiles. All had Rosary beads looped around their waist dangling on the right side. All wore black shoes and stocking or socks.

And of course they all had that same hat that they wore. It was called a (habit) and it looked like a black flat hat that covered their entire head with a white collar wrapping around their forehead. A veil topped off the look and covered all the nuns hair. Hell, you couldn’t even see her ears.

But let me tell you. They could hear better than dogs. Dare to talk in class and be prepared to absorb the wrath of the nuns. Usually, they would spin and fire in one motion an eraser at your head. Nine out of ten times, it would connect. The one time it would miss you, it would smack an unsuspecting innocent bystander sitting next to you. Those were the only times I ever saw nuns smiling. When they were hurling projectiles at your head.

Anyway, as the school year progressed, I started to become obsessed to know the secrets that lie beneath the nun habit. Was there another pair of eyes under there? A listening device of some sort? More erasers? I had to know what was under there. I began to devise a plan to unlock the secrets and remove the habit from the nun.

After weeks of planning, I set my plan in motion never to look back again. On that fateful day, as we were coming in from recess, I got in behind Sister Ann Teresa and followed her until we almost reached our room. Then, I did it. With one swift fast motion, I grabbed the back of her habit at the base and yanked as hard as I could. I awaited the treasures.

Instead, I was shocked to see that instead of removing the habit, I actually had pulled the nun off her feet and flat down on her back. Little did this six year old realize that the habits were attached to the nuns head by an intricate pattern of bobby pins and hair clips. Hurricane winds would not remove the habit.

My immediate impulse was to flee. And so I did. Down the hall with all the other children looking on in awe and I could hear them faintly saying, “He’s in for a paddling now.” Just like in all horror movies, I should have never looked back for there was Sister Ann Teresa behind me, gaining ground with every second. Joining in the chase were several other nuns, some of them remarkably fast. Down the one hall I ran and up the steps to the other. In a minute or so, I was finally cornered by the pack of nuns. I was surrounded. I wanted to blurt out, “You’ll never take me alive,” but instead, in a very shrill voice, I said, “I’m sorry Sister. I just wanted to see what was under there!”

Absolutely zero sympathy from the nuns. One grabbed my arm and led me to the principles office who also happened to be another nun. A conspiracy indeed. They seemed to take great pleasure in calling my parents to tell them about the heinous crimes I committed and of the many hours of detention in church I would begin serving immediately. I was then released and led slowly back to my class room where I quietly took my seat never making eye contact with the substitute nun in charge of the room at the time.

On the bus ride home that day, all the buzz was about me and how I knocked a nun down and dragged her through the halls and all that. Even the bigger kids came over to get a good look at me. For about a week, I was a celebrity, one to be reckoned with, one to stay out of his way, until, one day, another kid got stung by a hundred or so bees that he was bothering with a stick at the top of the play ground during recess. I passed the torch to Angelo, the bee keeper. A week later, Sister Ann Teresa did take five minutes at the beginning of the day to show us what was actually under her habit. At her unveiling, I was mildly disappointed. There were no extra eyes, ears, erasers, ammo, or secret tools of the nun clan. Just a bunch of long brown hair.

The conspiracy cover up had begun…..

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