I'm not Jesus, but I played one in grade school
 

         As I noted elsewhere on this site, I went to a catholic grade school.  Immaculate Heart of Mary, in St. Louis.  A typical parochial school where boys wore the white shirt and slacks, and girls wore those plaid jumpers.  Aside from the obvious, that I received a superior education than anything a government school can provide, the only difference between IHM and public schools was that religion classes were abundant, and the faculty was mainly Archdiocese nuns.

         IHM was run by the cold iron fist of a tyrannical beast of a nun, named Sister Marie Ambrose.  Frau Ambrose was an extremely gruff, uncaring person who rarely smiled.  When pleased, she would just declare, "Very good," with her trademark unflinching stare.  "Der Fuhrer" ran her school with a cold, and calculated grip not unlike the KGB, or the Nazi regime.

       My time in that school was for the most part, uneventful.  I had few friends, since I didn't really fit into one of the two major cliques:  Jocks, or "the popular."  I was quiet, and awkward, so I was usually picked last in recess and/or gym class.

          I was 13, in 7th grade.  Girls still had "cooties," and I just began my life-long love affair with baseball.  Because of my ADD, I was struggling academically.  School simply bored me.  I couldn't concentrate, and homework was something I just didn't do, mainly because I couldn't sit still in a quiet place long enough to accomplish anything.

          For some bullshit reason, one day I was given "detention" with two other guys in my class.  I forget what.  Maybe for flunking a test, or goofing off in class.  Hell, I don't know.  We were forced to sit at a table, in front of Der Fuhrer's office to do extra busy work.  The rest of the student body was assembled in the gymnasium for some bullshit presentation on Jesus stuff, or something.  The three of us were the only ones in the rest of the school.

          The two boys who were serving detention with me were typical jocks, and good friends.  I was cordial with them, but it was certain that I was not one of their "boys."  More importantly, they were very well liked throughout the school.

          At this time, Steakhead #1 has a bright idea pop up in his otherwise, empty head.

          "Hey," he turns to his buddy.  "Let's go into Miss Ann's room and change that "F" I got!"  Being equally stupid, Steakhead #2 agrees.
           I was invited to join them in their little adventure.

          "No thanks."  I was not about to attempt something as risky as changing shit in a teacher's gradebook.

          So off they go, into the silence of the empty school.  Ten minutes later, they emerge from the stairwell with the gradebook, and duck into the bathroom.  After a few minutes of muffled talk and laughter, they exit the bathroom, and replace their prize.  A clandestine mission that was ruled a complete success, in their opinion.  All the while this happened, I never left the table.  I was too much of a chicken-ass back then.

          Two days later, I was called into Der Fuhrer's office.  There to accompany me were the two steakheads, and Miss Ann...gradebook in hand.  Oh, shit.

          Apparently, the jocks didn't stop with changing their grades.  They had personal agendas, and thought that no one would notice if they changed some other kids' grades from "A's" to "D's."  Being steakheads, they didn't realize that some of those grades belonged to students who were "straight-A" kids.  It was a bit obvious when Christine, the would-be valedictorian, mysteriously had "F's" on numerous tests, after she had aced so many others.

          As are the rules of engagement, we were offered lighter punishments if we completely fessed up and gave detailed accounts of what happened.  The steakheads wouldn't budge.  I maintained my innocence by stating that I hadn't moved from the table.  They vouched for me.  I thought I was safe...
           This was Tuesday.

          Wednesday was a day spent entirely in Der Fuhrer's office.  The drapes were drawn, and a single light shone in my face.  It was just like those old film noir movies.  Frau Ambrose' goal was to forcibly "break" each of us, to get us to talk.  She wanted to know exactly which of the jocks actually put pen to paper, and changed those grades.  We were interrogated separately, so that she could keep us under her thumb, and avoid any story collaborating.

          Mind you, I was thirteen fucking years old.  I barely had hair on my dick, was struggling in school, and had a total of about 5 friends in the entire building.  Frau Ambrose was absolutely relentless, and without any mercy.  She demanded that I finger one of them.  At first, I was threatened with expulsion, which quickly escalated to actual police arrest, and then incarceration (you know...the place where they put rapists and murderers).  I was so scared, I violently trembled and was bawling my eyes out.  Seriously.  Despite all this, I maintaned that I hadn't known who did it, since I didn't leave the table.  Der Fuhrer was not pleased.  She dialed the phone in her office, and pretended to speak to "a police officer" who was to come to the school and arrest me.  I shook so bad, I couldn't even complete a sentence.  The officer never showed up, and after much shouting, I was sent home with instructions to give up whomever changed the grades then next day.

     The next day, I reported to Frau Ambrose' office again.  Further interrogation proved fruitless.  She absolutely refused to believe my story.  With a huff, she left the office.  Fifteen minutes went by, before she returned.  I was instructed to accompany her with the other steakheads, to the gymnasium.  Waiting there was the entire student body.  The entire fucking student body, including the entire faculty!  After a brief speech on morals, Der Fuhrer announced the "crimes" of the two accused.  They were put off to the side, and I was brought before the masses.  Frau Ambrose accused me of being an accessory to the crime, and that I refused to cooperate with her.  She announced to the student body that a "failure to cooperate, is as equal a guilt as actually carrying out the crime itself."
          After another short speech on morals, she announced that she was going to leave it up to the students on whether or not the three of us were to be expelled.  Being popular, the jocks drew a pittance of votes.  Relief showed on their faces.
          I, on the otherhand, was overwhelmingly condemned.  Sentenced by a throng of pre-pubescent, immature boys and girls.  I was a seventh grader...expelled by my peers.
          With another round of sobbing, coming on, I was escorted from the building and sent home with further instructions to return with the name of who "did it."

      ...A light breeze rustled through the foliage, the next day.  A woman approaches the school entrance, with her child in hand.  She is a single mother, who at that time, should have been at one of her two full-time jobs.  The first bell had just rung, and the students are just beginning to open their books.  The woman enters the building and stands in front of Der Fuhrer's office.  She draws a breath...
       "Ambrose, you get out here right now!!!" she bellowed.
      The building shook.  Doors to rooms opened, and teachers' heads popped out like prairie dogs in the Nevada desert.  Children whispered amongst themselves.  Faculty, not actually teaching, clamored up the stairs from their lounge to see who it was.
          Frau Ambrose emerged from her office, enraged.  She was fully prepared to deal with whomever it was who even thought of addressing her that way.  She was the dictator of this school, and justice would be swift and merciless!  How DARE anyone challenge her and her rule!
          A few steps from her office, she froze in her tracks.  It was then, that she saw the woman for the first time, and understood...  She was looking at pure, evil anger.  A seething, roiling cauldron of fury whose only directive was to deal with "Ambrose."
          Her eyes were little balls of glowing hate, and her mere presence commanded extreme caution to all who approached.  This demon in disguise...was my mother.
          I was ordered to sit down outside the office, and with a bony, pointed finger, she practically willed Frau Ambrose into submission, and to retreat to her office. With a massive slam of the heavy wooden door, my mother followed her in, right behind.
          Since the door was closed, I can't say what exactly was said.  Perhaps after my mother reads this, she'll fill in the blanks for me.  However, I can only imagine the absolutely glorious verbal beatdown that Sister Marie Ambrose was forced to endure.  The tide had turned.  The tyrant was challenged, and crushed.  I wouldn't doubt that the nun even pissed herself that day.  Sure the whole "expulsion" thing was a big fat bluff, but the bitch went too goddamn far!  She boldly stepped over the line, but wasn't prepared for the consequences.  I spent that Thursday night hysterically crying, and apologizing to my mother for getting expelled for a crime I didn't commit.  It was obvious, my mother was not amused by these findings, and even less enthused when her son described the happenings of the previous three days.
          When "the Demon" finally emerged from the office of Sister Marie Ambrose, she instructed me to go to whatever class I was assigned that hour, and left the building.  Frau Ambrose sat silently in her chair.  Her cold, iron stare was replaced by an expression of fear, and defeat.  Der Fuhrer was left in the destructive wake of Hurricane Mom.  A woman who refused to have her son bullied by the principal of his school any longer.

          From that time on, I was treated a bit more "gingerly" by most of the members of the faculty.  Sister Marie Ambrose rarely addressed me directly.  My "crime" was still worthy of punishment, but my mock expulsion was reduced to some menial janitorial duties, after school, for the remainder of my 7th grade.

          Little did anyone know, that the emblazoned valkyrie, that was my mother, would return within a month, to wreak more destruction upon an unwary member of the faculty.

          That, however, is another story entirely...