A Present
The 6th grade was suddenly pleasant and for the first time in those six years I had a straight non-religious teacher who was so much better than the nuns that had tortured us earlier. Miss Mazola, who was not Ukrainian but I think Italian, was very nice and understanding rather than the nuns who we were used to; but I think their garb did that to them, created despots before their tiny helpless monsters.
And Miss Mazola’s class was a relief, an ahh! a take time out so that we can breathe freely for a year before an even worse teacher befell us. In a way I could feel a sense of no worry on the other kids in class; they’d be more playful and chipper as they’d arrive in the morning and get ready to start their day. Even at the early masses we attended there’d be a feeling of relaxation as we’d all sit down and rise as the mass plodded along.
One spring day Miss Mazola announced that today was her birthday and she had brought presents for everyone: black cowboy wallets for the boys and white wallets for the girls. I was ecstatic, something out of Roy Rogers show on TV! I had that wallet with me for months and months, in my back pocket, as I’m sure the other boys in class had theirs too….Boy, what a treat that was!
Yes, 6th grade was a delight….Hell came later, in the 7th grade….
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