Friday, May 01, 2009

Catholic School and My Report Card

Today I thought I'd share about the time I got seven F's on my report card.

First of all, I need to tell you that I went to catholic school for eight years.

Well, actually...it was more like seven and a half years, because my parents wisely transferred me into public school during my eighth year in fear that I would fail and be left behind. And within the first few months after attending public school, my grades improved dramatically.

I was finally in a place that not only offered a scholastic education, but also nurtured the side of my brain that was connected to creativity.

I know there are many people who went to catholic school and LOVED it. And for those people I think it's wonderful, but let me just say this as gently as I possibly can.....

"I FRIGGIN' HATED IT!!!!!!"

I felt like I was attending a boot camp for parrots; being taught everything by rote.

Catholic school teaching is all about about conforming, doing exactly as you are told, never thinking outside the box, and NEVER questioning the authority.

(I don't think so....I'm a Libra)

You're taught how to dress, how to walk, how to sit, how to stand, and even how to control your bladder, so you can pee ONLY when the authorities allow you to do so, at 2:15, right after your chocolate milk break.

I don't like being told how to think or how to do something in a specific way. I much prefer being given information and then being allowed to process that information in a way that works for me.

I like to think for myself, and I honestly don't mind making mistakes, but I want them to be MY mistakes; not mistakes because someone is standing over my shoulder telling me what to do and how to execute it.

Catholic school and I were like oil and water.

I couldn't learn the way I was being taught, therefore, I failed most of my classes. I honestly don't know how I got to the eighth grade - I barely got by on D's.

I remember my last year in catholic school; coming home with a report card that had seven red F's. And considering I only had eight classes, that meant I only passed one.

Art.

When I got home from school and showed my mother, she said, "Oh...just wait until you father gets home and see this Ronnie!"

I was shaking like a leaf waiting for him to walk through the door that night.

And the minute my father got home, my mother handed him my report card and said, "So...what do you think about THIS Frank?"

My father took the report card in his hand and looked over it a few minutes, and then said to my mother, "Yea...so what?"

"What do you mean...SO WHAT?"

"So what?...he got seven fairs and one B...that's not too bad."

"Those are not FAIRS Frank...those are F's...as in FAILED."

*blink* *blink*

..."You're kidding me?"...

Have a Faaabulous weekend everyone!

X