Where Are They Now?

Sister Ursula Marie was a trip in 1968, tottering on the brink of senility, if she hadn't stumbled off the edge altogether. She made life at the all girls' academy for young Christian women worth waking up for.

When I was a freshman in high school, my schedule was mercifully the same every day. I traveled from one classroom to the next, in the same order Monday through Friday. There was no need to carry a printed schedule to verify what "day" you were on. A girl could manage it in her sleep if she had to.

But that was before modular scheduling was introduced to our fair campus, and just before the nightmares kicked in.

In my horrible dreams, which recur to this day, I am perpetually lost. My schedule has disappeared, and there is no time to stand in line in the school office to request another. I am late for class, floundering around campus, scanning the crowd for bodies that look familiar, ones who seem to be slouching toward whatever class my subconscious has me down for at 2 pm on Wednesday.

"What do you have now?" I call out to a fellow student. If she calls back, "English!", and I know she's in my English class, I'll follow her anywhere.

Most nights, this works out OK. Most nights, Sister Ursula arrives to class later than I do, visibly scattered and much more confused. Most nights, I breathe a snore of relief.

Last night was different.

Last night, Ursula appeared to me in a fifties-style sundress, hose and heels, her hair fresh from pincurls, and Cherry Blossom lipstick. She'd lost her stutter, and had a small daughter in tow. It was Take Your Daughter to Work Day.

Dream by dream, Sister Ursula Marie gets younger and whippier, more eloquent and stylish. And I become more insecure in the presence of one who used to make me feel, by default, like all that.

If I could have stopped this dream cycle after one or two episodes, believe me, I would have. But now it's gone on for thirty-five long years, and evidently come full circle.

Sister Ursula's in the splashy sundress, and I've got one more bad habit.

Posted by Katy on 04/23/03 at 08:09 AM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Where Are They Now? Sister Ursula Marie was a trip in 1968, tottering on the brink of senility, if she hadn't stumbled off the edge altogether. She made life at the all girls' academy for young Christian women worth waking up for. When I was a freshman in high school, my schedule was mercifully the same every day. I traveled from one classroom to the next, in the same order Monday through Friday. There was no need to carry a printed schedule to verify what "day" you were on. A girl could manage it in her sleep if she had to. But that was before modular scheduling was introduced to our fair campus, and just before the nightmares kicked in. In my horrible dreams, which recur to this day, I am perpetually lost. My schedule has disappeared, and there is no time to stand in line in the school office to request another. I am late for class, floundering around campus, scanning the crowd for bodies that look familiar, ones who seem to be slouching toward whatever class my subconscious has me down for at 2 pm on Wednesday. "What do you have now?" I call out to a fellow student. If she calls back, "English!", and I know she's in my English class, I'll follow her anywhere. Most nights, this works out OK. Most nights, Sister Ursula arrives to class later than I do, visibly scattered and much more confused. Most nights, I breathe a snore of relief. Last night was different. Last night, Ursula appeared to me in a fifties-style sundress, hose and heels, her hair fresh from pincurls, and Cherry Blossom lipstick. She'd lost her stutter, and had a small daughter in tow. It was Take Your Daughter to Work Day. Dream by dream, Sister Ursula Marie gets younger and whippier, more eloquent and stylish. And I become more insecure in the presence of one who used to make me feel, by default, like all that. If I could have stopped this dream cycle after one or two episodes, believe me, I would have. But now it's gone on for thirty-five long years, and evidently come full circle. Sister Ursula's in the splashy sundress, and I've got one more bad habit. Posted by Katy on 04/23/03 at 08:09 AM Fallible Comments... Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: Role Models? Previous entry: Church Hopping << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Where Are They Now?

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri