By the time this hits print, there could be a new pope. It’s unlikely that the 133 cardinals gathered in the Sistine chapel will arrive at a choice that quickly, but stranger things have happened.
It’s interesting reading about the preparations being made. It’s obvious this is a group of people who have been raised with a background in Catholic schools.
I too have a background of being educated for 12 years in Catholic institutions. I know what these guys could go through.
I like to think that when I went to Catholic school, it was during an era when discipline of students was allowed to be on the side of extreme. In first grade, I recall being made an example of by standing in the front of the room and taking 10 lashes to my backside with a wiffle ball bat for a misunderstanding over my penmanship. Something was vandalized in the classroom. I didn’t do it. I had the worst handwriting. Therefore, the teacher concluded as judge, jury and executioner, that I was guilty. The sentence was swift and painful.
My penmanship didn’t get much better, but I learned my lesson: I was going to be a lot tougher when I got out of the joint in eight years.
In the papal conclave, I read that those gathering to pick the next pope can’t bring cell phones. But they don’t trust them. Someone was bound to sneak something in the room in this era of social media, so they installed devices in the floor of the room that jam cell signals.
All they really needed was Mrs. Chase and her wiffle ball bat. Granted, with 36 kids in one room, things could go astray quickly, and that bat settled things down in a hurry.
In third grade, our principal, who was fired shortly after, had to substitute teach for our teacher. His son was in our class. He picked on him relentlessly during the day, putting him on the spot during every subject and getting angrier as the day progressed. Shortly before the end of the day, he sent his son back to second grade. It wasn’t just for the afternoon. He had to slide his desk from third grade to second, and he was a year behind us the rest of the way.
In fourth grade, someone was acting up and get sent to the storage closet in the back of the room. The teacher forgot about him. He was discovered when he didn’t show at home one the bus. The discipline obviously put him on a different path. He went on to a career in the FBI, perhaps coaxing perpetrators to tell the truth by telling them what it would be like to be put in a room without lights for eight hours.
My Catholic education was helpful in a lot of ways. Subjects were drummed into us. Many of my classmates did big things after with the foundation of that education.
I picked up a lot of things. Mostly, I learned how to stay out of trouble.