My daughter Kaitlyn is an English teacher at Monsignor Bonner/Archbishop Prendergast High School. She’s also thick in the middle of pursuing her doctorate in education. I write this not to brag about her ambition, intelligence and perseverance (however proud I am) — I write this to explain why my daughter often quizzes me about my high school education at Bishop Kenrick High School and its effectiveness. She appreciates details and stories and fun facts that may contribute to her knowledge base as a teacher in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia and a doctoral student with a passion for education.
Unfortunately, I have to admit, there’s not much I remember.
Oh, I remember things I didn’t learn — like French — even after four years. A shout out to Frances Coady, one of the top students in my class (which, by the way, numbered greater than 500 kids), who looked on me with compassion when Sister Matilda called me to the front of the class to answer questions. I was barely able to understand what Sister Matilda was saying, and Frances, God love her, saw my confusion, and fed me the answers. I will always be grateful to her for saving me from the rambling wrath of Sister Matilda.
Other things I didn’t learn? Algebra — sadly, Frances was in track 1 for all the other classes other than French (no track needed) and couldn’t save me from Sister Rose Madeline. And the anatomy of a frog — I took a hard stance against dissecting that poor thing — and Mr. Brunner, not a very strict teacher, let me pass. And geography, which I am convinced was dropped from the curriculum while I was a student because for the life of me I don’t know most of the state capitals. Or where Russia is.
I did retain a smattering of lessons, mostly from Mr. Joe McElhone (social studies), Miss Carole Chernecky (theology), Sister David Francis (chemistry) and Sister Patricia Miriam (literature, my favorite class ). So for the most part, my high school career is a vast void of knowledge.
A vast void of knowledge, but overflowing in good times.
OK, not every day was a party. Some days featured countless laps around the gym for basketball practice, or laps around the school for softball, or running up and down all those steps because of forgotten items in my locker, or ignored homework assignments and catch-up reading assignments. But for the most part, other days made up for all those annoyances.
Proof of that? I never faked being sick to miss school. I also did not skip, even on Senior Skip Day. But, in my defense — we couldn’t quite figure out the official day — was it 79 days from the first day of school or last day of school, and if so, what day was considered the last day — the last full day, half day or graduation? It was all pretty confusing, so my friends and I just skipped the skip day and went to school.
So, while my academic career at Kenrick may have been a bit lacking — mostly my fault, I will admit — the other aspects of high school life scored high in my books.
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I went from a relatively small 8th grade class — I graduated from St. Patrick School with 40 other kids — into a sea of humanity. No joke. My graduating class was the biggest in the school’s history — in excess of 500 kids. The exact number has been questioned, but it ranges from 513 to 525. Either way, that’s a lot of kids.
But while the class of 1979 holds the record for the most kids in a graduating class, it must be noted that during the three years prior, and three years after our graduation, each class had roughly 500 kids. I may have just barely passed algebra, but I know basic math and that equals 2,000 kids a year in that building during the 1970s.
Yikes.
So, going from the manageable 41 kids in a class at St. Pat’s to more than 500, it’s a wonder any of us found our way — figuratively not literally. It was impossible to get lost in Kenrick — there were four choices — up, down, left or right. Not one confusing thing about that building. The only thing kids never found was the swimming pool (right, it didn’t exist, not even on the 4th floor).
Finding your way in high school meant one thing — finding friends and finding your place in that community. Gravitating toward those kids who “get you,” who understand you and look past your faults and quirky habits and emotional roller coaster rides got me farther in life than any B on an algebra test (which, by the way, did not happen for me). I’m proud to say that the friends I formed a real bond with in high school are still a huge part of my life today. So, when it comes to my approaching high school reunion (details below), I’ll go with Sue Mig (and Cathy Stone if we can pry her out of her home base of Canada and maybe even Susan Woodie, even though she’s a year younger and didn’t graduate with us), but that’s not who I’ll spend my time with at the reunion.
The “perimeter” players in my Kenrick career — the kids I had classes with (ironically, most of my closest friends were honor society material, so not on my academic level), the girls on my basketball and softball teams, the kids at my lunch table, and my homeroom buddies.
These are people I spent my time with at Kenrick — who I didn’t hang out with socially — but still influenced and impacted my life. People like the aforementioned Frances Coady, who probably doesn’t even remember giving me the French answers. But I’ve never forgotten her kindness and generosity.
My basketball teammates who showed up for my brother’s funeral during Christmas break and stood across from me at the cemetery. My coach Lois Lorenz Weber didn’t attend — didn’t even talk to me about my brother’s death — not even “I’m sorry for your loss.” But my teammates made sure that I was embraced and even found a way to make me smile on a bus trip to a holiday tournament game in Phoenixville. Thank you Lisa Thornbury for your hilarious rendition of “The Christmas Song.” Compassion and laughter can go a long way for someone who is grieving.
Chris Falcone and I discovered a shared love for doing crossword puzzles during our fifth-period lunch. I can’t remember for the life of me why we did, but we did. And that taught me the importance of relying on friends when answers are elusive.
Brian Rafferty, who never failed to ask me every morning after each softball game, “How many?” He wasn’t asking how many hits I got — nope — he was asking how many times I struck out. Hitting fastpitch was not my forte. But that simple question allowed me to recognize the importance of not taking things too seriously, now matter how frustrating. After all, I was second in the lineup: I knew Lisa Schmidt and Gina Walker (cleanup) would send leadoff batter Paula Kurkowski home.
Kevin Joseph Lawler greeted me every day in homeroom with a kind word and a bright smile. Being around Kevin taught me the grace of acceptance, and how a gentle smile from a pure soul can ease the roughness of a bad day. He, perhaps, may have taught me the lesson I would need most in my adult life.
I may have missed out on the magic of algebra, and mastered just one phrase in French (Je ne sais pas: I don’t know) but make no mistake, I learned a ton at Kenrick. But the greatest lesson? I learned early on to surround myself with good people and rely on those people when I needed to. I learned that there was a strength that came from exposing my weaknesses. And I learned that just being nice to people goes a long way in making good things happen.
Bishop Kenrick High School Class of 1979 reunion will be Nov. 30, 2024 at the Maenner-Chor Club, 920 Haws Avenue, Norristown, from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. Cost is only $20 ($25 at the door); cash bar and refreshments, and a food truck will be on site. VENMO @ Maria-Smeykal 7076 ormake checks payable to BKHS Class of 1979 and send to 769 Autumn Lane, Schwenksville, PA 19473RSVP by Nov. 15, 2024. For more info check out https://www.facebook.com/groups/bkhsclassof79/media
