Preparing my two boys for the new school year inevitably brings back memories of how things were when I was growing up. I’ll leave to others the exaggerations of walking to school “10 miles uphill both ways” or the frightful demeanor of a particular nun.
The overall feeling that I had while attending St. John the Evangelist School in Midtown Manhattan was one of love and security. I knew that my parents cared enough to send me and my two brothers to Catholic school (which cost very little in the 1960s), and the teachers seemed to extend that sense of caring.
In the back of each classroom, there was a large picture of a brother and sister walking to school with a guardian angel watching over them, and that’s just how I felt going to Catholic school.
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