Confessions of a Free Range Prolapsed Catholic

August 1st 1951 was a Wednesday.”Wednesday’s child is full of woe” – oh GREAT!

When I was successful in reaching the high point of my career so far, at that stage, around 1988 I was elevated to the position of Religious Studies Co-ordinator. At a parent information evening in preparation for the new enrollment in 1989, the MC of the evening, responsible for the incoming students asked “Do any of you have any questions”. The evening had already reached bum cheek numbing time length. A too brief pause and up shot one hand.

“Thank you sir” says the MC (middle management member like myself, not executive member – room for no responsibility taking) “Go ahead”. “Sir” he asks “Can you tell me who will teach my daughter the language of the spirit of being a woman?” The MC who had responsibility for the pastoral care of the cohort started his reply. Up goes the hand again. “No I do not want to hear from you. I want to hear from the woman.” So I bumbled my way though some kind of explanation about the importance of the dignity of all incoming 12 and 13 year olds and managed to satisfy/pacify the questioner. “Wednesday Woe” headed off at the pass.

A few years later, I proceeded to travel up the stairway of promotion and, at the same school, became Assistant Principal Dean of Students. Based on my brilliance as religion coordinator and after tripping on the last hurdle a couple of times, frocked up in professional dress, should pads, two piece suite, stockings, an interesting broach and court shoes with a small heels, I made it! I had been at the school for some time. The Dean of Studies was a science teacher by trade. A woman of experience also. The newly appointed principal was an interesting character.

Both Deans were invited to an interview with the Principal. He talked at length about the academic qualifications of my colleague. His first question to me? “Now tell me this. You were a music teacher. Its unusal to become a member of the executive team from the creative arts?” Second question, “Now it says you have had more than 20 continual years of teaching experience. That can’t be correct. You have four children you must have had maternity leave at some stage.”

Well figuratively speaking and ignoring the ignorant comment about the fours years of study I did to become a music teacher, I just loaded both barrels and replied; “Well, our first daughter was born when I was in my third year of study, our son, the following year, my final year of study. Our second daughter was born during the Christmas holidays of my first year of teaching in Catholic schools, I had to resign from my position and hope for the best to return to my position 9 weeks after her date of birth and our second son was born while I was on my first long service leave. “Oh wow Louise! That’s incredible. But really, didn’t you miss not being with your babies when that were so little?” Finger on the trigger, both barrels cocked and ready ” Of course I did, but I am sure you missed out on not being with children when they were babies too!” Many years later, my brother met him at a gathering and told him he felt I didn’t like him very much. When Paul told me this I was surprised that there had never been space for an ounce sensitive insight in the conversation!

The Obliteration of Wednesday Woe

And now having missed completely the new entry into the first of the remaining 3 demographics as registered by the World Health Organization, “Early Old – 65-74”, “Middle Old 75-84” and “Older-Old -85 and like Buzz Light Year “To infinity and beyond!” there’s a kind of resignation I have in pondering my mantra that “Every day above ground is a bonus!”

Not every Wednesday has been full of woe either it just hangs around a bit!!