How My Dad Made My 6th Grade Teacher Feel Salty

She was a nun and he aced her

3 min readDec 21, 2021

Growing up I went to a small Catholic grade school. My parents insisted every year that I have a nun for a teacher. They were paying “good money” to send me there so I could be instructed by nuns.

I can honestly say all the nuns I had as a child were fine. We had Sisters of Notre Dame (SND). I was never swatted or slapped or abused in any way. If I had been I’m pretty sure my parents would have said I got what I deserved. I did get in trouble. I was intimidated by a few of the nuns but no bodily harm was committed as in some of the stories you hear today.

It’s hard to say if I received a better education from the nuns than a lay teacher (as non nuns were called in the Catholic schools). I ended up an above average student but not the class valedictorian by a long shot.

As a young man, my father read the Bible a lot. It was one of the only books his family had around the one-room garage they lived in. The garage was attached to my great aunt’s house and he lived there with my grandparents and 4 aunts and uncles during the depression years. My dad had to quit school at a young age and help support his family until he was old enough to join the Navy. He was the smartest man I’ve ever known. He knew what he wanted in life and he went for it full barrels. When he died he was a successful business owner with millions in property and investments. All with a 6th grade education.

He was raised Catholic, and met my mom who was Catholic, so by darned, we were all going to Catholic schools. That was what he wanted and, foot down, we had no choice. My brother argued this until he turned 18, joined the army in 1968 (knowing he’d be headed for Viet Nam) and never came back.

One Friday my 6th-grade teacher, Sister Mary Isadore (for real), presented us with a question to ponder over the weekend. She said to ask our parents and siblings. What came first? The chicken or the egg?