When I went to school there the crowded halls reminded me of herded cattle. It felt as if, somewhere around the hall, there was a person with a stick and a whip to keep us moving.

We were primed with horror stories about the tough nuns, the pool where everyone drowns, the haunted third floor and the girls that hide,get you in the bathroom, beat you up and stick needles in your arms. We were told stories about pill pushing at the lockers and the dikes that were going to get us.

Needless to say, none of that happened...none of it was true, there wasn't even a pool. I never saw a ghost or pill pushing. Most of the lesbians were really nice. The nuns were tougher than they are now but there is a quarter of the kids in the school, maybe less than that, so their stress level is lower.

My high school was an all girls Catholic High School. There were close to 3000 kids in the school...that's a lot of girls. I came from a Catholic grade school so I thought I knew all about it. The first shocker was seeing black girls in the school. We were all white at my grade school...mostly Italian, Irish and German kids, many were first generation and they even seemed a bit alien to me. I had no idea what alien meant. In 1975 I watched a black girl in my homeroom class comb and weave her hair with one hand. I was amazed. I loved how her hands were white underneath and chocolate brown on top. Thereafter, there was hair all over the desk. I think I skipped lunch for a week.

Nothing coaxes me to skip lunch these days.

Last night my husband and I went to my old high school for "roster night". Now the school is boys and girls, the halls are much less crowded and the teachers and principal are very sweet and positive. We each followed one of our kids rosters from first to eighth period meeting the teachers and learning about the classes and curriculum.
Every teacher said, "if you child comes home and says he does not have any homework, he is lying". Funny how they say "he". All the teachers were very well prepared, most have advanced degrees and "love" their jobs, some were teachers that taught me back in 1975. I tried to remember how I felt back then, and how hard it was to listen and pay attention. It was tough to feel interested in what was being taught. I think you have to be a bit out of the ordinary and wise beyond your years to "get" all you are given and be a teenager at the same time. I was in classes with 50 girls and I was afraid of 48 of them. In time I relaxed realizing I was not going to get "jumped".

I had accelerated religion classes all four years. I was pulled out of class to sit in circles on the floor or in a small room with a few other kids and a great nun, "Sister Damian". I always thought that was a strange name for a friendly, very un-devilish sister. Maybe they were priming us for sisterhood? I wonder if anyone from my school ever became a nun? Now, all the classes are much smaller: 20-25 kids a class. There are tons of different nationalities and now the first generation kids are Vietnamese, Mexican and some others. There are a couple of kids that do not speak English well. They usually become the best students.

Last year, one of the teachers said he had a student from Vietnam who spoke no English. He came to school early every day. He failed every test the first quarter, the second quarter he was just passing, the third he was doing better and by the fourth quarter he was one of the best students in the class.

There is always some good that comes from change ..you just have to look for it.

For all the things that change, some things stay the same. I looked around in my freshman son's homeroom and realized their were parents there of kids that I either went to school with the parents or the aunts. History repeats itself.

Today I went to the school to drop off some papers. The office doors were all open with welcome signs on them, the principals office was also open, hall monitors smiled and gave directions. Everyone was in uniforms, no cell phones, no metal detectors, no ipods, no "yo's" and the place was clean and shiny. Laughter seeped out of a couple of classrooms, soft whistles blew in the gym as the kids relayed the basketballs (did I say that right?). Catholic sayings and quotes were around the school. In a world that is totally overstimulating, all consuming, manipulative and polical correctness is confusing, the quiet haven of my high school felt like home.

The bell rang for change of classes as I ran out the door. That bell was LOUD.

The school is shrinking and like my babies growing up, and my grandparents being gone I feel sad and apprehensive and anxious about the change, about the loss. But today, I really felt proud. I felt a feeling that was more than just school. It was respect and a specialness about it.

I was at a store last week. The girl behind the counter was nice, friendly, helpful and kind. She gave another customer's baby a free cookie. The employee was about 17 years old. She had on a t-shirt that said "I am a product of Catholic education".

I want one of those shirts and I want some of my very good friends to have one too.

Since the boys had to move to the girls school there really isn't any facilities for the kinds of sports that boys play like football. My freshman son is on the football team. He ran onto the practice field (which is across town at the boys old school which is now being made into an assisted living for the elderly) among big, experienced upper classmen. He was excited. I was happy for him. The kids can still use the field but there aren't any lockers, showers or changing areas. There is a rented trailer in the corner. I felt so bad about this that I volunteered to help raise money to build a planned locker room and concession area. Of course, they will not start it until we raise the money. That means it will take about 2 years to complete. Funny thing is, the kids weren't complaining. They just wanted to play football. The teams also have a lot less kids. School is expensive now and sports are all extra expenses. No one pays for the kids to get equipment but the parents and the school. We pay taxes for a spot in public school but need to pay extra for chosing a different school. The kids all try to have fun and work as a team. Not one kid was complaining or feeling sorry for themselves. They really don't know any better. It is all they know. When they go to the suburbs and see big schools with lawns and rolling hills they are amazed. Most of them want to stay right where they are: in the city, amidst the grime, on a little field without the proper facilities. That must be because they are a product of Catholic education.

Maybe we should put that logo on the game jerseys. I'll have to bring that up at the next meeting.

Today I went for my pre-employment surprise urine drug test.
The lab was processing about one person every 5 minutes. I felt like a criminal. This is what the world has become.

I'll start my new job as a home health care nurse on Sept 24th. I am excited due to the place where I am going has a great reputation, high degree of professionalism and encourages continuing education and expert clinical care. I have been a nurse for a long time but the last 15 years have been in administration or minimal to non-clinical work. I like taking care of people. I do not like middle management or administration. For now. I have to go through orientation and will be glad to feel like a real nurse again. I feel ready.

I was thinking about staying home but I really do not like filling my day with chores and chaufering kids around. I wouldn't be able to lunch and do dinner dates and theater and museums all the time. I really like being more productive and find that when I have a lot to do, I get a lot more done. I like to keep learning and love being treated like a professional. Oh, the money and benefits are really good, too. My kids will have to get on with things more independently too, and that is a good thing.

I ran into a friend the other day...her sister is in Nursing school and was having a bad week. She was crying "she didn't want to do this anymore". That is just how being a nurse is...it is great and then you cry; it is almost powerful and then your frustrated; it is real and moving and organic and then you've had enough. It is really important to balance a career like this or a job like a nurse's with other things that are fun and stress free and even glamorous. Demanding a good pay wage also helps.

In today's world, a nurse is paid well, has full health benefits for the entire family and can switch jobs every year if desired. Job security is high and we will be some of the only ones working in time of war or disaster. It is a job that is anchored in need and public service. It is something to be proud of...I say this with fingers crossed.

I also know I'd give it up in a minute if someone would pay me to write something, anything...as I say this, I think, maybe there is a reason...there is a need to be filled. Desires and creative outlets need to be done on the side. Right?

Life is all about balance... that is easier said than done.

The best and most important reason for my being a nurse is the insight I get into other people's lives and hearts. No one is more vulnerable and open than a sick or injured person. Unfortunately, everyone gets sick. Illness reduces us all to the same level. It is at that level that sharing can begin...it is without pretense or reserve, it is usually with a quick and easy connection to strangers and the world changes colors because of it. A needy, dependent and ill person cares less about nonsense and more about realness. At some point the light stops flickering and the path is bright and allows for many of us to refocus and adjust.

A quote from a book of love poems edited by Paul Murphy:

"Loving, my friend, is responsible for all the love in the world." (Habib Sahabib)

OK...I know I say I love so many books..but this one...I really love.

When I find something interesting in a book, I dog ear the bottom of the page...well, this entire book is dog earred...someone asked me to borrow it today and I went into a panic thinking of having to release it from my grip. I gave some lame excuse and kept it...I am not finished it anyway. I hate to finish it..just like any book I love.

The book is about a person born old, who grows young. It is a love story. Beautifully written.

I went online to look up the author and everything about him, like I always do... Andrew Greer. I found an interview where the journalist refers to him as a gay author...and immediately I knew it. Just like Michael Cunningham. Straight men cannot write love stories like this...not modern ones anyway.

It reminds me of The Time Traveler's Wife a great deal. I loved that one too. (just dont try to keep figuring out the times..it doesn't matter at all and it ruins your enjoyment of the book).

Anyway...I know this is a poor excuse for a blog but I had to get this in because I am preoccupied with this story.

My summer obligations are hopefully over...I really don't find the summer as relaxing and nice as others do...first of all, all my kids are HOME: they are up to all hours of the night, and sleep to all different times and EAT and make messes all day and I do everyone's laundry. I get little time to read because I can't seem to sleep good. I get very cranky.

September was always a favorite time...a new start. New pencils are nice, too.

I love the shore and my house but am relieved to lock the shutters and put away the grill and come back to the city. The dirty, murder capitol of the East coast: Philadelphia. No matter the crime and the dirt and the dust everywhere from all the construction around us...the city is full of DIFFERENT people. This week I was all over and find our treasures to be fulfilling. Museums, parks, south street crazy stores, and all the different ethnic groups and yet unlike NYC (which I love) there is lots of cohesiveness here, lots of communities and families and closeness with the people around us. Margate is nice but it lacks the grit...the good and the bad. It misses the deep character of the city and convoluted arts and culture. I feel the city is more intelligent..for lack of a better word right now. It's architecture and eclectic nature. SO I hope and pray someone does something to make it safer. Because I can't leave, and not only that, when I do, I long to come back.

Mothers, Single mothers and mothers of boys would love this movie

bring tissues...the whole box!