Although I took my temporary vows in September 1947, I stayed in Spring Valley until January of 1948. I went to “finish” high school at Oakwood, ND where the nuns of our order ran a Catholic School. I was allowed to sit in the classroom with the other students but I was never called upon to answer questions or allowed to participate in any discussions. At first, the students thought that I was some kind of supervisor because I was never introduced to them. I just appeared one day. They were left to draw their own conclusions. After school hours, my superior used me to supervise the boarders at meals, study halls, and recreation periods. At first I was very shy but soon the students accepted me and often told me that they preferred to have me police them because I was so much younger than all the other nuns at the school.
My official school records state that I graduated not from Oakwood, ND but from St. Catherine High School in Valley City on May 28, 1948. No matter what the records say, I did not participate in any graduation ceremonies at either place. At the time I was very happy that I was not allowed to share in this ceremony. I didn’t feel like I had really earned a diploma because my records had been falsified. At Oakwood on the night my “classmates” graduated, I was seated in the choir loft watching them accept their diplomas from the parish priest. I was left with strong feelings of deficiency because I knew that these graduates had honestly worked and deserved to be in this ceremony. I never saw my diploma if there was ever one made out in my name.
With time and through many experiences, I would eventually learn that inadequacy has it merits, that is, if we learn to depend on God’s power instead of our own capabilities. This is not to downplay the gifts and talents that have been given us, but rather with our prayers and humility, we choose to be linked with a power greater than ourselves.
After my “graduation”, I spent the next two weeks scrubbing and shining everything in that school so that it would be ready for the fall term. Many of the other Sisters went off to teach catechism in the surrounding parishes that did not have a Catholic school. I was spared that task that first summer.
After the school had been cleaned, I was sent to Great Falls, Montana to start earning my teaching degree. I had no idea what college entailed. When I went to register with the other nuns who had attended this college other summers, I was lost. Nobody told me which classes I should take. I was accustomed to having my superiors lay everything out for me.
The nun in charge of registration was a Sister of Providence. This order of nuns operated the college. The Registrar was very helpful. I informed her that I would be teaching the next year but I did not know in which of our schools that would be nor did I know what kind of classes I would be teaching. She encouraged me to take basic classes that would help prepare me to teach in any classroom. She signed me up for General Psychology, Teaching Social Studies, Tests and Measurements and the Principles of Elementary Education.
I studied and prayed like crazy that summer. I did my very best to understand every part of each class that I took. I was exhausted at the end of the six weeks but I did ace all of the final exams and truly earned the twelve credits that were issued to me. My self-esteem went up a few pegs.
Summer was nearly over and it was almost time for school to begin. All of us who had been studying in Montana returned to Valley City for the annual retreat. It was a week devoted to prayer and to rest. I really needed both.
Ever since I had made my vows, I felt that my spiritual life was at a standstill. I went through the motions of community prayers but my life in the Spirit was stagnant. There was just so much going on that was at odds with my conscience. I felt that I was forever climbing an impossible hill. Community prayers were often just an arid recitation of litanies, rosaries, and prescribed readings. Prayers from the heart were difficult for me during most days.
All during the retreat our Mother Provincial held private interviews with each nun, to discuss what duties would be expected of her in the future. The nursing nuns, teaching nuns, cooks, seamstresses and those who filled other positions were expected to attend this retreat or another one that had been held earlier in the summer.
It was with great apprehension that I waited my turn to learn where I would be stationed for the coming year. I did not feel ready to face a classroom of little children who would look to me to teach them the fundamentals they needed.
On the last day of the retreat, I was finally called for my interview. Mother Margaret, the Provincial of our area, informed me that I would be teaching in the high school at Willow City, ND for the school term of 1948-49. I stared at her in complete dismay. I wanted to scream in protest. What was she thinking? I had not really finished my own high school education and I was expected to teach students that were my own age? Incredible!
Of course I remembered that I was not to question what was asked of me. Blind obedience was the rule. Here, in deed, I needed to rely on God’s strength. There was no chance for me to use my lack of experience as an excuse for not taking on whatever assignment was given me. I could not in good conscience say, “I can’t do this! I don’t want this responsibility!” I had taken the vow of obedience. I did venture to ask what subjects I would be teaching. Mother calmly replied, “That will be left to the discretion of your new superior, Mother Mary Patrick.”
Grapevine gossip was not uncommon even in the convent. I had heard a few intimidating tidbits about that nun. She was the first ever non-French woman in our convent system to be appointed a Superior. I had heard she ruled with an iron hand. I guessed she had to prove that she was just as good a Mother Superior as were the French nuns. Oh, Mama Mia, I was not looking forward to the school year at all!
Upon my arrival at Willow City, a tiny little village in northern ND, it didn’t take Mother Patrick long to outline my schedule and to set off a few more alarms to shatter my already badly eroded peace of mind. She began, “You will be teaching first year typing to the sophomores.”
Just after I retrieved my jaw from where it had fallen below my knees, I summed up enough courage to mention that I had never, ever touched a typewriter in my life. She replied casually, “Then you’ll just have to learn in a hurry, won’t you?”.
I guess I should have been grateful that she didn’t expect me to teach Typing II.
“Besides typing,” she went on. “You will also teach Junior Business and World Geography.”
My nerves were tied up in knots. Would I find time to sleep if I had to learn all of that before school started? I didn’t think it would be possible, but I dared not voice that doubt to her. Then she told me something that truly shocked me. She said, “Notre Dame Academy is fully accredited by the State. Since you have only twelve-quarter hours of college credits, you will be teaching under the name of Sister Mary Ceceila, a nun now retired because of old age. When the State inspectors come here, you are to answer to that name. Do you understand?”
I could not believe my ears. I was being asked to lie about my teaching credentials and about the name that had been given me to signify my new commitment to Christ. I was totally confused, worried and just plain panic-stricken.
Without much more ado, Mother Patrick gave me the teaching manuals and told me to get busy. I studied every spare moment that I could. I was not relieved of any of my other duties, which always included cleaning and polishing everything in the school. When the boarders started arriving for the fall term, I had to find a room where they would not see nor hear me practicing typing. I was so tense that I could hardly concentrate, let alone become a proficient typist. I thought that I would never learn fast enough to fool high school students. Migraine headaches continued to be my daily cross to bear.
Mother Patrick was not gracious about handing out aspirins to me each day and I was not allowed to have a bottle of them to use at my own discretion. I was miserable, at least physically, most of the time. Each morning I woke up with a pounding headache. I prayed that the Lord would see me through my hours of study, work and prayer. If I had not Him to rely on, I would never have made it through each day.
Classes started. I entered my first classroom shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. I tried to appear poised and in control. I distracted my typing students by getting their fingers on the keyboard right away. I didn’t spend much time explaining the parts of a typewriter to them as the manual had advised. I needed them to be thinking about their task of learning the location of the various keys. I did not want them to focus on my shaking body or me. It worked. Soon the clatter of the machines drowned out the thumping of my heart. The students were impressed because they were learning so fast. That meant trouble for me. I would have to stay up late each night to study the next steps to keep ahead of them. But God was watching over me. Even if others make bad decisions for me, He was always be there with help if I asked. I asked!
One of my students was an accomplished piano player. She caught on to “touch typing” in no time at all. She led the class in speed and accuracy. She often quietly came to my aid when questions came up that would have exposed my ignorance. She would quickly raise her hand and offer the proper solution. I think it was the Lord’s way of showing me His great mercy. There was no need for me to feel crushed by weights that I felt that I could not carry. Either I would give God my burdens and cease all the strife, or I could proceed on my own strength that might last for a while. Eventually I would have fallen on my face in abject failure.
The students never asked me to demonstrate my typing speed that was indeed, pitiful. They were truly convinced that I was great teacher. By the end of the first semester, most of them were typing like pros.
Though I knew nothing about business, teaching Junior Business was not all that complicated. The same was true of World Geography. I was quick to learn the basics facts of both of those subjects but I was always afraid that at any given moment the students would recognize me for the fraud that I was. They never did. They always thought that I was some sort of a genius who had finished college at a very early age. I did not feel great about this deception.
Next: More first year teaching experiences.