Sunday, 25 March 2012
(Not the Actual Sister Rosario!)
Such a strange room. I had never seen ceilings so high. Six lights hung from the lofty heights. Four enormous windows, each with 18 panes of glass, ropes at their edges.
Sister Rosario sat on her huge desk, half smiling, half asleep, from what I could tell. 'Go to sleep children', she would say 'as gaeilge' (in Irish), which meant we had to fold our arms on the desk in front of us and bury our heads and pretend to fall asleep. This actually meant that she was about to have a doze!
We were all terrified to 'be awake' so we kept our heads down, most of the time. But this day I remember sneaking a peak as she rose, slowly, from her plinth, and made her way quietly, well as quietly as a rotund nun on creaky wooden floorboards can, out the door.
One by one more and more of my fellow pupils raised their heads, looking at each other, noticing that the Sister was gone. We all 'woke up'! One boy shouted 'SNOW'! We all looked towards the enormous windows and yes, it was indeed snowing. A magical, wonderful, out of this world sight to a room full of four year old boys in their first week at school!
I don't know what made me do what followed, but something made me shout 'School is over!' ' and I rushed towards the door followed by my classmates.
She was standing just outside the door (having a sneaky fag I like to think) as I opened it, and ran headlong into her bulky blackness, with the power of almost forty four year olds behind me.
She landed face down in the snow covered yard.
The sheer horror of what we (I) had done resulted in a mass scream I have yet to hear again!
We all ran back into the classroom, jumping behind our desks and 'fell asleep' (in gaelic) before she picked herself up and trudged back into the room!
I don't remember much else of that day, maybe she was drunk? (she certainly had the rosy cheeks), but I cannot remember being punished for our dastardly deeds.
Kids - One
Clerics - Nil