The Assignment

7:45 AM, I walked into my eighth grade class.

Sr. Anne Vincetta was erasing the assignment

she had posted on the chalkboard yesterday.

I didn’t do so well with that exercise in futility.

So, I was thrilled to see the reminder go. I had

hopes today would be different. Surely, I was

thinking, one of these days our tough-as-nails

teacher would lighten up on us kids. It wasn’t

easy growing up as a Catholic, all those rules

and such—got to go to Mass on Sundays and

Holy Days; can’t eat meat on Fridays; list all

your stupid sins to tell Fr. Sullivan at Confession

on Saturday afternoon. Talk about ruining a

whole weekend. I suppose all that is better

than going to hell when you die. Eternity to

me seemed like a long, long time. And we all

know how painful burning can be. Had a

bad burn the other day when Ronnie Barker

passed me his lighted cigarette, and I grabbed

it by the wrong end. Son of bitch blistered right

away. Anyhow, Sister had an open book in one

hand and was writing the page numbers for today’s

assignment where she had erased the one for

yesterday. It was from the same math book she used

the day before...algebra again, damn it! Oops, guess

I’ll have to confess cursing to Fr. Sullivan on Saturday.

Even though I just thought it, the Catholic God sees,

hears and knows everything you do. See, that’s why

it’s unfair growing up a Catholic. Larry, my Protestant

friend, can eat meat anytime he pleases, and he

curses like a sailor too. Most of those guys, I’m sure,

have got to be Protestants as well. Oh for Christ’s sake,

algebra again? I thought I was going to puke.

                                          -30-

Chris Hanch 5-5-2020