Those classrooms look smaller, 49 years later

Left, Mike McDonald, Jimmy Rodgers, the author John Legere and Mulford Emmel are pictured at their graduation from St. Lawrence School, Lindenwold, in 1961.

Since my father passed away last summer, I have been trying to visit my mother more often, at the house that I grew up in, in Somerdale. A few weeks ago, my wife and I drove the short distance down the White Horse Pike, to visit the church I hadn’t seen in 49 years, St. Lawrence, Lindenwold. As it turned out, we had some free time before Mass, so I suggested to my wife that we drop in on my old school.

A short walk and so many years. There were always nuns working around outside, or the older ones, sunning or reading, on the back porch, but the building had had a vitality, and some mystery to a small boy. What, exactly, went on in the convent? Did they call each other by their birth names, or their “sister” names? Were the stricter ones humorless all the time, or was that just a show? Did they watch television? What did the “cells,” their rooms, look like? And, of course, the most puzzling question of all — what did the nuns’ hair look like under the habit? Did they shave their hair, or was it long but pulled up tightly, or just really short? In spite of having had an aunt who was a nun, I still don’t know the answer.

For several years, a favorite game that the boys played in the playground was a form of baseball, but instead of a bat and a ball, we would roll up a newspaper really tight in the shape of a bar of soap, and tie it tightly with string. Then the “batter” would toss up the paper and with his right hand made into a hard fist, hit the paper as hard as he could. The ground rules would baffle the greatest legal minds today, but to us it all made sense. To this day, it still amazes me that some of the bigger boys could actually put the paper on the roof of the school, which of course was a home run. The nuns didn’t like it, and then we would have to make another paper bar.

We used the cafeteria for the monthly eighth grade dance. The music was played by a high school student on a 45 rpm player with large speakers. The boys on one side and the girls on the other. A few of the boys would get up the nerve to dance with the girls, but mostly to just slow, box step dances. Until, of course, The Twist, which even the biggest klutz could do. The DJ would sometimes announce, “Ladies choice!” and the father chaperones would have to bar the boys from running off to the lavatory to escape the girls.

At the far side of the cafeteria, the steps went back up to the first floor of the newer wing. I can’t believe how small the rooms had gotten. We had up to 40 kids in each room, with only one sister. Who ever heard of teacher’s aides? How that many desks could fit into a room that small, along with our coats, book bags and lunch pails, is a puzzle.

Friday afternoons, we would finish class two hours early, and we would all be ushered to the upstairs for a weekly movie. The eighth grade boys put up the chairs and ran the single projector. We had to stop the movie between reels to change the film. The cost was 25 cents, and if you didn’t attend, you had to stay downstairs and do school work. Friday movie money was something I never forgot to bring to school.

When I was in high school, St. Lawrence used to sponsor CYO dances in the auditorium, and I can picture many kids there, but how could they all squeeze in? One dance, we even had a current rock and roll group, The Marcels, come and lip sync, “Last Night I Had A Wonderful Dream,” on the tiny stage.

Sister Barbara, the principal, had an office right next to the eighth grade classroom. Nowadays, that office is used for storage, but I can still picture her whirling around the school, making everyone work up to their potential, including her fellow sisters.

Whenever I hear comedians talk about nuns, I really do have to defend them. I mean, here were these wonderful women, many of them barely out of junior college, teaching a bunch of rambunctious kids, in classrooms with twice the number of students that a teacher is expected to teach today. They were paid almost nothing. Their whole lives were dedicated to their students, from the time they woke up until retiring late night. Planning trips for the kids, serving as playground supervisors, controlling the lunch hours, wiping noses, writing lesson plans, all for the love of the kids, and in the service of God.

So, I would just like to offer up my personal thanks to the wonderful sisters who made us who we are. Thank you, Sister Karen Francis, Sister Mary Gerard, Mrs. Schramm (the one lay teacher in the school), Sister Patricia Margaret (twice), Sister Joan Francis, Sister Helen Francis and Sister Francis Augustine. May God bless you, in whatever way you are serving him now.

John Legere graduated from St. Lawrence School in 1961 and Camden Catholic High School in 1965. He currently lives in Pennsylvania.