MY EARLY YEARS OF SCHOOLING!

CHAPTER 4.
“I COULDN’T FIT INTO THE SCHOOL.”

My first memories of schooling was going to kindergarten at Patrick Ahern School, which was up the street from me on Dorchester Avenue. We’d mostly sing songs, do crafts, dance around the maypole, anything the teacher thought up.
After we pledged allegiance to the flag, we’d so some singing starting with the National Anthem. Then we’d move to “3 Cheers for the Red, White and Blue,” after which everybody would do “hip hip horray” 3 times. After that, my memory drifts…
Depending on what time we’d begin our class, we’d sing either:
“Good morning! Good morning!
And a cup of good cheer!
Good morning! Good morning!
And A Happy New Year!”
Or:
“Good afternoon! Good afternoon!
Good afternoon today!”
Well, there’s another memory committed to paper. After a while of singing, we’d do crafts of different sorts. And we went home to watch TV. Growing up in Dorchester, it meant “Ultraman,” “Astro Boy,” “The Mischief Makers,” “Prince Planet,” “Colonel Bleep, “Q.T. Hush,” or “Clutch Cargo.” It was an amazing time to be a kid, since the art of children’s TV was perfect before I grew up. I was born too late for “Howdy Doody” and “Super Circus,” and too early for “Sesame Street,” which premiered in November of 1970. During this time, Mom and Dad tried to find programs that would fit my needs.
And it was in 1968 or 1969 that they found one for me-The League School in Newton. It was located on a hillside overlooking the town. The classes were small and we were able to work on the basics or reading, math, writing, spelling and some science. We had music during lunch, including one songs named “Let Everyone Clap Hands Like Me,” which would make me cry a lot.
One of my teachers named Lynne was a very kind and gentle teacher, except when someone got a test on math wrong. Then she’d mark an X, tear the paper up, and tell the offending teacher to “put your head down.”
And then we had a lady from the Phillippines(whose name I can’t remember), but one who was very friendly and helped us do our lessons very well. And of course, I loved the recess periods where we could run around and play in the fresh air. Although there were times when the high winds around the Newton hills made me feel scared.
Another scary time I had was when I almost got hit by a car(not once, but twice!). As Lynne and my class were walking back to school from a field trip, a car screeched in front of me and I was pulled back by Lynne back onto the sidewalk. “Richard, you almost got hit by a car!” she screamed. “Yes,” I said helplessly.
“And she had to hold the breaks down….what does stop mean?”
As she chewed me out, everybody was watching helplessly. I believe that they were like a crowd witnessing the execution of an innocent man. Many times in my life this scene would be repeated. Whenever I did something wrong-walking home from the YMCA without permission, painting a sweat shirt, etc.-people would stand around watching me as I was being chewed out.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but Lynne rebuffed me.
“Being sorry is for doing stupid things…now you have to hold the grown-up’s hand! It’s over!”
I had to be walked up with my hand being held by her. And as we neared the school I asked what time it was.
“It’s time you considered yourself lucky you weren’t being hit by a car!” Lynne screamed.
And as I entered the school and Lynne let my hand go, I burst into tears. I was crying my eyes out without restraint. I had been scared into crying that day. And for countless times, whenever I did these wrong things, that’s how it would end up.
Years later, when I told Dr. Yerkes, whom I’ll talk about in the next chapter, about the incident that day, he told me that he’d talked with Lynne and she said that if I had been hit by the car, she’d never have forgiven herself. I believe that the reason she did this was out of fear that I’d lose my life before it’d even begun.
I think it’s because of these incidents that I would be punished. And when I woke up the next morning, I would feel regret and fear. Even though I’d learned my lesson, there would still be the fact that I’d missed out on what I loved-watching TV, listening to the radio, or anything else.
It sucks, but that’s the way it is. And the morning after I’d come off punishment was a time of pain. Even though it was a new day, I would be dwelling on what I’d done. On one occasion, the morning after I’d been punished for walking home from the YMCA instead of staying on the Camp bus, I’d ask my Dad, “Am I still on punishment?”
I wonder if we still are….

Anyhow, looking back on that incident, I believe that if I’d been hit by that car, I wouldn’t be telling you this story today.
I left League School in 1971 to go to St. Coletta’s in Braintree. It was a Catholic school for special needs children run by the Cardinal Cushing Center. And believe me, that was a new experience: dressing up in a suit and clean clothes, going to Mass on a Friday morning, participating in the Special Olympics, it was one of the most amazing schools in the South Shore.
Of course, I didn’t like going to Mass on Fridays, because the priests sang the Doxology at the end of the Eucharistic Prayer, which caused me to burst into tears. And I had a bad habit of putting my fingers in my ears when the priest sang. One of the nuns there at the time, Sister Mary Roger, told me that putting my fingers in my ears was “love of the devil.” Well, I hate the devil; I just didn’t want to cry when I heard the priest sing.
Of course, Sister Mary Roger is to be commended because she helped me make my first Holy Communion at the school! And it’s the faith of communion that has kept me faithful to the Catholic Church. Up until that time, I was too afraid to go to Mass on Sundays; I’d spend it watching cartoons on TV all morning, going only once at Easter.
I owe it to Sister, because as tough as she was, she really helped me discover something that I’d been living only casually in my early years: the faith that is the Roman Catholic Church. Another nun I had whose name escapes me at the moment was just as strict. When I was having a string of bad behavior while at St. Coletta, I had to be put on punishment for a time. And one of the things that I had to tackle on my own was a course on the Lexicon(what you and I know as a dictionary).
But in time, I’d get the hang of it and enjoy the school.
Among my favorite times was going to Rindge Arena on Tuesday mornings, where we would spend the morning skating and getting ready for an ice show that we would put on for our parents in May of that year. However, in one year, I suffered a stomach ache before the show and couldn’t go on. Sitting there watching the spectacle really put a bad taste in my mouth.
I would get to take part, however, the following year, and it was a doozy of a time. Playing hockey, learning some figure moves, and having a time on the ice was a great thing that I looked forward to each Tuesday during the fall and winter months.
I also remember going with the school to a matinee performance of the local production of “Godspell!” It was a very moving and fun-filled experience seeing the gospel of St. Matthew put to music with songs like “Day By Day,” “On The Willows,” “You Are The Light Of The World,” “We Beseech Thee,” and of course, “All Good Things.” It was a wonderful experience that brought the house down.
And of course, in May of 1972, our school participated in the Special Olympics for the South Shore. It was a great joy to be involved in competiton with athletes from all over the South Shore. I won a bronze medal in the 50 yard dash and I felt excited being on the podium.
You know, their oath seems to say it all: if we can’t win, we want to be brave in the attempt. It was a marvelous thing to participate that day.