The Good and Bad of Catholic Schools

Photo credit: James Bartlett / Lynn Daily Item

 

 

Chronicle is a local public interest television show that's been on the air at Boston's WCVB since 1982.  They recently devoted an entire broadcast to the subject of Catholic schools and it was surprisingly positive.

One interview featured Tom Nunan (pictured), the current president of Bishop Fenwick High School and he made the case that a parochial education is more relevant than ever.  He stated that in a world where many students face alienation and isolation Catholic schools can provide “an authentic community, a real sense of belonging and a place where you can feel at home.”

Also discussed during the half hour show was the pandemic's impact.  Eleven schools within the Boston Archdiocese closed for good as a result of the virus, but the program made the case that Catholic schools responded better to safety protocols that were put in place and resumed in-person learning much earlier than many pubic schools.  This created huge interest in enrollment from parents and students who were eager to get back into the classroom.  Unfortunately, with pre-pandemic numbers already dwindling, this surge did not do much to increase overall enrollment.

One interviewee stated that many parents don't just want their children to receive a good education, they want them to become better people and a Catholic school's faith-based learning can provide that.  A few now-thriving disadvantaged students were also profiled along with the Catholic Schools Foundation, an organization that helps provide financial assistance to those who can't cover tuition.  When a Catholic school education is at its best, it's a beautiful thing.  Unfortunately, there's another side to all of this that undermines the lofty goals so many spoke about on Chronicle.

From my own experiences at Bishop Fenwick, I found none of what Tom Nunan was talking about.  I sincerely hope things have changed for the better at that institution from where they were a few decades ago because all I found at the school was alienation and isolation.  Catholic schools can be very cliquey, hypocritical and elitist.  One student interviewed on Chronicle said the first time she was ever called the “n-word” was by a fellow student at Bishop Fenwick.  

Often, Catholic schools will place a huge emphasis on educational greatness or athletic greatness at the expense of moral greatness.  Sometimes this strategy works.  A good number of my fellow classmates in high school were only there to get an educational advantage over their public school counterparts.  Their parents really didn't care about the Church's morals and the students themselves absolutely loathed what the Church stood for but that diploma was an important key to unlock greater secular success.

It's odd that some Catholic schools seem to be more about prestige and sports than morality.  I'm reminded of how many locals simply refer to the all-boys St. John's Preparatory School in Danvers, MA as “the prep” even though there are other schools in the greater Boston area with the word “preparatory” in their names.  When someone close to me attended that institution many years ago, I could see how snobby he and his fellow classmates became and how engaging in reckless and / or self-destructive behavior was par for the course.   

Maybe this approach is the future for the Catholic schools that will survive into the next century or maybe forsaking the Church's values will only quicken the pace of their demise.

Sadly, Bishop Fenwick made the news recently...for all the wrong reasons.  The Massachusetts Interscholastic Athletic Association harshly punished the high school for alleged inconsistencies regarding one student's application to play baseball.  As a result, all sports have been suspended from state playoffs for 2023-2024.  In a case that many find confusing, the MIAA alleges Fenwick engaged in a pattern of deception while the school maintains these inconsistencies were a result of confusion and ignorance regarding the complicated application process.  School leaders were in the hot seat as they fielded questions from angry and bewildered parents during a discussion about the controversy in the auditorium. (See this blog entry's photo.)

Fenwick has vowed to appeal the decision with no guarantee the MIAA will even consider what the school has to say.  In the meantime, all student athletes are paying the price for something they had no part in.  I think we need to expect better from the Catholic educational system.

The Good Ones

Not every member of the faculty at Bishop Fenwick High School caused me so much grief.  In fact, there were some really good ones who stood out in my mind and it wouldn't be fair if I didn't mention them on this blog.

Mr. Steve Dalton:  This religion teacher was such a gentle soul.  He once told us that we all started off as a wonderful idea in God's mind and the day we were born was the day He could no longer keep the joy of who we were from the world.  Mr. Dalton often preached God first, then family and then career.  Sadly for us, he left the school after a couple of months into my Freshman year for a new job.

Mr. Kevin McCarthy:  Some of my lowest grades ever were in his advanced math classes.  I just wasn't that good with numbers but he tried to help with plenty of after school lessons.  I never did understand algebra all that much but my grades were excellent in his more practical business math class.

Mrs. Barbara Brigante:  Since I liked science, taking chemistry seemed like it would be really cool until I discovered there was a great deal of math involved.  I didn't do well in her class either but she was always very nice and patient with her students.

Mr. Andrew Parker:  He was our young and hip religion teacher.  For one assignment, we anonymously wrote down any question we wanted to ask him.  I submitted, "What is the air speed velocity of a European swallow."  When he read my note aloud, many students thought it was a dumb question.  Mr. Parker answered, "Five...no six."  He then flung himself backwards and shouted, "Ahhhhh!"  He got my Monty Python and the Holy Grail reference and after explaining the movie to the class, some students recalled seeing it on TV and admitted it was a pretty funny question after all.  One extra credit assignment had us praying with him for two minutes after school so we would learn to make time for God during our busy day.

Mrs. Kate Hawke:  A very agreeable English teacher who encouraged my writing.  At her suggestion, she helped me submit a poem to a literary magazine that featured content from area students.

Mr. John Farley:  He often used humor and fostered teamwork during religion class which included a course called Theology of Death.  Sometimes lessons were heavy like the time he told us about a student from years ago who had been killed in a construction accident.  Other times Mr. Farley lightened the mood with interesting assignments like having us bring in a death-related song.  I chose Julie Brown's The Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun.

Sr. Charlotte Wickes:  Despite encounters with authoritarian nuns, she was one of the sweetest and most soft-spoken nuns you could ever hope to meet.

Ms. Kathleen Nolan: I don't remember too much from her English class but she called me one of the nicest students she had ever taught.  Where others saw negativity in me, she saw sensitivity and goodness. 

Ms. Suzanne Bertrand:  This pleasant and outgoing religion teacher discovered I loved trivia so we agreed to a head-to-head competition of Trivial Pursuit right in class.  I lost but it was all in good fun.  She also enjoyed the original Star Trek series and I often tried to convince her to give The Next Generation a second chance.

Mrs. Eileen Gibbons:  My homeroom teacher seemed to understand that I was having trouble fitting in at the school so she treated me with patience and understanding.

Mr. Paul Downey:  His civics class was pretty laid back and he often used humor to create a wonderful learning environment.  We shared a love of Benny Hill and I wound up lending him a VCR tape of the British comedian's antics.  His son attended the school with me but he was in the group of jocks who didn't resort to bullying.  (A credit to how his father raised him.) 

I think these teachers stand out in my mind because they not only went that extra mile for their students, they created a learning environment built on mutual respect.  My high school years were less than ideal but these great educators helped make those awkward times a bit more bearable.

Whose Problem Is It?

The last blog entry already had me thinking about Bishop Fenwick's authoritarian nuns when a letter in the mail announced the retirement of vice principal Sr. Geraldine Burns.  Inside was a glowing account of her tenure by former principal, Ralph LeDuc who said, “Her imprint on so many lives is indelible...”  All I could think was, “It's probably a scar.”

Looking up Sr. Geraldine on Ratemyteachers.com reveals some extremely negative comments.  While some of the nun's detractors admit she is good at her job, most are critical of her attitude.  Online review sites should be taken with a grain of salt but in this case, I think those disapproving remarks are quite valid.

Contrary to the smiling educator featured on the cover of that letter, I found Sr. Geraldine to be a cold disciplinarian who largely interacted with students when they did something wrong.  I had the pleasure of being sent to her office a few times, mostly for tardiness.  Was I depressed about something?  Were other students bullying me?  Perhaps there was trouble at home.  Sr. Geraldine wasn't interested in any of that.  I broke the rules so some kind of punishment was needed to curtail such behavior.  However, discipline without thoughtfulness fails to address a problem's root cause.

Around this time, an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation introduced viewers to Lt. Barclay, a smart but anxious member of the crew who had trouble fitting in.  When the chief engineer complained about this misfit's behavior, the ship's bar tender replied, “If I felt nobody wanted to be around me, I'd probably be late and nervous too.”  Eventually, the chief engineer used understanding and encouragement to bring out the best in Lt. Barclay.  The story really hit home with me.  Too bad Sr. Geraldine didn't watch Star Trek!

When educators adopt a “one-size-fits-all” approach, they can do more harm that good.  My quirky history teacher, Mr. Kawczynski loved playing devil's advocate because he thought it would build confidence.  For me, it created a climate of intimidation.  One particular discussion on morality led Mr. K to ask if we would ever pose nude in a magazine for a large sum of money.  Some of us said no so he kept upping the price to change our minds.  After he reached the multi-million dollar mark, I was the only one who still refused the hypothetical offer.  A wisecracking student asked what I had hidden in my pants that was worth so much.  The class got a good laugh but it was at my expense.

During tests, Mr. K sometimes whistled to break our concentration.  He said if we had focused minds like that of a Kung fu master, we wouldn't be distracted.  While discussing the need for more class participation, I got singled out as an example of a shy kid.  He then proceeded to do an exaggerated imitation of me struggling to ask questions.  Most reviewers on Ratemyteachers.com acknowledge Mr. Kawczynski's challenging behavior but they also praise him.  One student says, “Those who left bad reviews were probably a bit over sensitive...”  Call me overly sensitive but I don't think being mocked in front of the entire class made such a good learning environment.

When a teacher's personality clashes with a student, whose problem is it?  Since the job of an educator is to EDUCATE, more should be done to reach struggling students even if it means changing tactics.  Would the school descend into anarchy if Sr. Geraldine tried being friendlier?  Did Mr. Kawczynski have to shoot down all of our arguments with such vigor?  Our teen years can be extremely awkward because there is so much we don't know.  Sometimes students need their teachers to be mentors, not taskmasters.

As memories of high school fade into the background we tend to remember the things that made a big impression.  I don't recall many of the lessons from my classes but those bad experiences sure do stand out.  Inside that Sr. Geraldine retirement letter was space to write a personal note about her “positive” impact.  Sadly, I didn't have anything to say.

The Art Room Respite

I sat with an interesting group of friends and acquaintances during my lunch period at Bishop Fenwick High School.  Most of them embraced an alternative style but they weren't often shunned as outcasts.  Some successfully navigated their way through the school's different cliques while others didn't get bullied simply because they were female.  (Even the jocks had their limits.)  Almost everyone in our group had an artistic side and a few were so talented, they took an advanced art class.

At one point, these art students disappeared from the cafeteria.  As it turned out, their teacher had given them permission to eat lunch in the art room so they would have extra time to work on projects.  We weren't too keen on the idea of our cafeteria group splitting up so one friend in the class suggested we all go to the art room together during lunch.  The teacher wouldn't be there because she had trusted her students to work on their projects without supervision.  None of us thought a few additional students in the art room would be a big deal.  Famous last words.

Since the place was located in a small wing off the main building, it felt like a refreshing oasis far from the maddening crowd.  Someone found a radio with a tape player so a few of us brought in cassettes of our favorite bands for everyone to listen to.  It was nice having our cafeteria group remain intact and in many ways, lunch in the art room underscored our place in the school's culture: creative, thoughtful, quiet souls disconnected from the popular crowd.  With a nod and a walk down the hall, it felt like we were heading to a secret club but after a couple of weeks, these lunch sessions seemed routine.

One day, I was joking with an acquaintance when out of the corner of my eye, a nun appeared in the doorway.  She looked around the art room and wondered why we were all here.  A few kids tried to explain but she wasn't having any of it.  She got a piece of paper and a pencil and one by one, asked for our names.  In a display of resignation, I spelled out my last name for her.  We were then instructed to pack up our things and go back to the cafeteria.  I had just read George Orwell's 1984 so it felt like our little respite had been broken up by the Thought Police.  I was filled with a cold, sinking feeling and as we walked back down the hallway, I sang a line from the 1956 song The Party's Over to lighten my mood.

Many people think teenagers aren't too considerate but our group was very concerned about what this would mean for the art teacher.  None of us wanted to see her get in trouble because of our actions.  After an investigation by some of the nuns, we received a verbal reprimand and everyone was prohibited from leaving the cafeteria during lunch period.  The art teacher shook her head at us in disgust.  From her point of view, she felt we took advantage of the trust she gave her art students.

I didn't think what we had done was so bad because there was no malicious intent in our hearts.  We only wanted to maintain the comfort our lunchroom group provided.  There was no sense of entitlement and we were careful not to be disruptive.  The radio's volume was low and our conversations were subdued.  While the nuns had every right to discipline us, blindly handing out punishments just to keep everyone in line wasn't a very Christian approach.

During my high school years, I kept hearing the phrase “Fenwick is family” but the authoritarian nuns only saw our infraction and not the reasons behind it.  Did they care that some students were struggling to fit in?  Apparently not.

A Mother Knows

Fr. James Nyhan

Sometimes we see a darker side in people who are universally loved and respected.  Does this mean our perspective is wrong?

My mother's first time inside Bishop Fenwick High School was when she helped me purchase books at the start of my freshman year.  We passed the chaplain, Fr. Jim Nyhan, in the hallway as he was clowning around with a male student.  I didn't think much of it but later on my mother told me to be careful of that priest because she got the impression he was a pervert.  She explained, “Look at the way he was touching that boy.”  At times I had seen Fr. Jim engage in horseplay with some students but it was mostly quick hugs or a pat on the shoulders.  My mother said, “He was rubbing the kid's stomach!”  That raised a red flag in her mind and she added, “Don't ever let him touch you like that.  If he does, come to me and I'll handle it.”  You didn't want to mess with my mother.

There weren't many interactions with Fr. Jim during my years at Bishop Fenwick.  Maybe my mother's cautionary words created some kind of distance or perhaps it was because I felt like an outcast.  Even though I wanted to deepen my Catholic faith, being bullied had made me skeptical of Fenwick's squeaky-clean image and any talk of showing your school spirit made me want to run in the other direction.

In many ways, Fr. Jim was the embodiment of school spirit.  He was a very outgoing priest who led Masses in the auditorium, taught religion class, and even drove a school bus during away games.  A scholarship was later established in his name.  If anyone had expressed misgivings about him, they would have risked criticism by going against popular sentiment.  As it turned out, however, my mother's first impression of Fr. Jim was correct.

Abuse allegations against Fr. Nyhan surfaced a few years after my graduation from Bishop Fenwick and in April of 2006, he pleaded guilty to three counts of committing a lewd act on a minor between 1979 and 1980.  Reports said he would arouse himself by getting into wrestling matches with his victims and rubbing up against them.  “I feel badly this colored my otherwise fruitful stay in Charleston,” Fr. Nyhan said much to the dismay of his victims who were expecting a more contrite apology.  The plea deal spared Fr. Jim jail time and he did not have to register as a sex offender.

It's interesting that my mother figured out in 5 seconds what many couldn't see at all.  She feels the priesthood would be a much healthier institution if priests were allowed to marry.  My mother often says Jesus chose married men to be among His disciples including Peter, the first Pope.  Also, there are a small number of married Catholic priests who converted from other denominations.  For most parents, protecting their children is not an intellectual exercise.  When the Church received the first reports of sexual abuse at the hands pedophile priests, a visceral desire for justice was lacking.  Instead, the problem was analyzed and then covered up.  Ultimately, lawyers and reporters had to drag the Church kicking and screaming into the light.  Can unmarried celibate priests truly understand the pain felt by parents of children who have been victimized?  Their slow reaction to the sex scandal tells me no.

I spoke with a friend from high school recently and he revealed a disheartening story about Fr. Jim.  Like me, this friend wanted to deepen his Catholic faith so he sought out our chaplain to discuss becoming a Eucharistic minister.  Instead of offering encouragement, Fr. Jim wondered why he wasn't satisfied in his faith and why simply going to Mass wasn't enough.  The awkward conversation threw my friend for a loop.  Needless to say, he never became a Eucharistic minister and the seeds of doubt sown by Fr. Jim that day led him to question his Catholic faith so much so that he became an atheist years later.  What really troubled this former classmate was the deceptiveness of outward appearances since some of the most “holy” in our school were insensitive behind closed doors.  While many of Fr. Nyhan's former students and parishioners were shocked by his admission of guilt in 2006, some of us weren't surprised at all.

Going against the accepted beliefs of the in-crowd usually invites isolation and after a while, you can start to question what's in your heart.  Being a black sheep doesn't necessarily mean you're wrong, though.  Sometimes it means in a climate of phoniness, you can still see the truth.

Trek As Religion

I may have enjoyed reruns of Star Trek growing up but it was just one of the many television shows that were part of my childhood.  This would all change in high school.

For much of the 1970s, Trekkies were stuck watching the same old episodes in syndication but an animated series and feature film appeared before the decade's end.  After a few sequels, the franchise returned to television during my last year of middle school with Star Trek: The Next Generation.  The show was interesting but the first two seasons were a bit lacking.

Then for several reasons, I found myself embracing Star Trek like never before starting in 1989.  Star Trek V: The Final Frontier was in theaters and I thoroughly enjoyed it even though most fans didn't.  A new comic book series followed and that further captured my attention.

A few months later, I discovered FASA Corporation's Star Trek role playing game and all bets were off.  The company produced beautiful model ships which blended seamlessly with the established designs from the original series and movies.  Game supplements were well-written and highly imaginative.  FASA took elements from the original and animated series, books, and movies to create a very detailed Star Trek universe where past inconsistencies and errors were creativity explained.  In many ways, what they produced was far better than anything coming out of the Paramount Pictures studios.  FASA's products even inspired me to create my own characters and storylines.

Some of FASA's ship designs are still beloved to this day.

Eventually Star Trek: The Next Generation hit its stride and I really identified with the character of Lt. Barclay whose awkward shyness masked a very creative soul.  As I continued to feel lost in high school, Star Trek spoke to me in ways my Catholic religion didn't.  It presented a positive vision for humanity where profound questions about life were asked and the petty pursuits of this world were a thing of the past.

While Star Trek helped fill a void in my life, it also created a fair amount of isolation.  Building detailed models of starships was hard work that required countless hours of alone time.  I started wearing Star Trek pins on my Bishop Fenwick sweaters hoping to attract the attention of other fans but this only gave my bullies ammunition.  While friends listened to bands like U2, I was checking out soundtracks from the Star Trek films which featured classical music.  I nearly wore out my VCR watching the shows and movies over and over again. 

I eventually realized there just weren't any other die-hard Trekkies in high school.  Here was this wonderfully intricate universe of science fiction yet I couldn't talk to very many people about it.  Now I had an ax to grind.  I felt if my fellow classmates didn't appreciate Star Trek then they were rejecting me.  My love of the franchise turned into a shield that kept people at a safe distance.  If I felt left out of a conversation, I would make an obscure Star Trek reference to get back at them.  To some, I was becoming cold and insensitive.  In our teens we often fail to see how others perceive us.

At the time, being a geek was not very cool.  That's why I am amazed by how accepting society is today of all the things that made us outcasts.  During a visit to the 2016 Boston Comic Con, I saw plenty of people dressed as characters from Star Trek and a good number of them were female.  I thought to myself, "Where were these girls when I was getting teased in high school?"  From models to books to video games, the sheer economic power of today's geekdom is staggering.  However, it's also a double-edged sword.

Star Trek is supposed to be a universe where materialism does not matter but you'd never know it by all the merchandising fans lap up.  Will a Jean-Luc Picard bobblehead doll really bring fulfillment?  Doubtful.  Many place science fiction on a pedestal so high, it starts to resemble a religion.  I once knew a fan of Star Wars who watched the movies so much, it was like his version of going to Mass.

For a while, I too worshiped at the "altar of Trek" but in the end, it didn't lead to true happiness.  The time and energy I spent building model ships just wasn't worth it to me anymore.  FASA Corporation's license to produce Star Trek products was revoked by Paramount Pictures because the studio disagreed with certain aspects of the company's storylines.  Yet subsequent television shows like Voyager and Enterprise seemed to lack creativity.  The current movie reboots are just plain schlocky.

I've been a recovering Trekkie for many years now and while I still think it's important to be young at heart and have hobbies, there needs to be a balance.  Lately, society seems more juvenile than ever.  Are we even seeing the challenges that lie in front of us?  Time spent watching the same movie over and over again could be spent helping the poor or defending a cause.  How are we ever going to realize that positive vision for humanity if we don't do anything meaningful in the here and now to make it happen?

The Joy of Female Friends

Many claim men and women can't be friends because sooner or later the sexual tension between them will be too great.  A search of the internet reveals scientific studies that confirm this but other findings refute it.  Television shows and movies like Friends, New Girl and When Harry Met Sally have the platonic relationships of the characters turn into bed-hopping adventures.  Even Scully and Mulder of the X-Files crossed out of the friend-zone after years of speculation from fans.  I have to laugh at all this because in high school, I was blessed with many opposite-sex friendships.

Bishop Fenwick offered an advanced creative writing class that was open to underclassmen.  Here I got to know a fellow student named Sharon who was a year ahead of me and soon friendship developed.  We also shared the same study session in the cafeteria so as everyone else separated into groups by gender, we sat together.  Eventually her friend Christine joined us and we had a wonderful time hanging out. 

Nothing about our friendship seemed odd or unnatural because it was rooted in mutual respect.  We were all somewhat nerdy so topics of conversation tended to be more intellectual.  These female friends were a breath of fresh air since they allowed me to be more emotionally honest.  Gone was the stifling machismo usually found among my male friendships.

A rendition of the alternative
 clique from our yearbook 

Sharon was good friends with a fellow classmate of mine named Jen and we eventually found ourselves joining her much larger group of girls during lunch.  Most of these kids were part of an alternative clique that existed in the early 90s even though it didn't really have a name.  Some of us labeled them “artsy” or “progressives” because they dressed differently, were into art and literature and shunned the bubblegum pop music of the day.  They resembled Jane Lane from the TV show Daria which debuted a few years after my time at Bishop Fenwick.

Jane Lane from Daria.

Most of these “progressives” had a grudge against the Catholic Church and felt out of place in parochial school.  One girl was very sexual and took it upon herself to promote safe sex and gay rights while another read the Bible just to highlight all the misogynistic passages.  Perhaps it was their way of rebelling against an environment they dreaded. I embraced them anyway because we still had a lot in common.  Whatever their opinion of Catholic doctrine, it wasn't going to change my beliefs.  They knew where I stood and some of them respected my opinions even if they didn't agree with me.  Among these friends, I could be myself and not get judged for it.

Being the only guy in a group of girls didn't bother me because at the time I believed any differences between men and women were mostly societal.  Did our friendships hit the brick wall of biology?  Not really.  The term “friends with benefits” didn't exist and many of us were still somewhat innocent about life.  (Since there was no internet back then, society was a bit more innocent too.)  Sure, the occasional fantasy entered my mind but we just weren't compatible enough to seriously consider crossing any lines.  Besides, I loved my female friends like sisters and didn't want anything to spoil it.

These unconventional relationships probably caused some classmates to question my sexuality but others thought I was getting inside information when it came to understanding women.  It piqued the curiosity of one of my male friends and soon he joined our lunchroom group.  Having female friends made me feel a lot cooler than I was.  Unfortunately, we rarely got together outside of school since we lived so far away from each other.  (Our parents never had to deal with co-ed sleepovers but that would become a topic of conversation in society many years later.)

Female friendships weren't limited to fellow classmates.  During my senior year, the guys in my study session “adopted” a small group of juniors who sat at the table next to us.  These girls had been amused by our conversations so we decided to start talking to each other.

While there are many horror stories of opposite-sex friendships gone wrong, my experiences with them in high school were largely positive.  Perhaps I'm more sensitive than many of my male counterparts who frequent strip clubs and sleep around.  One psychological experiment highlighted the differences between males and females by separating toddlers from a toy with a plexiglas barrier.  Boys typically hit the divider while girls tended to cry.  However, there was a small percentage from both genders who did the exact opposite.  When one of my cousins got married, the groom chose a female friend to be his best man.  Maybe guys like us are the exception to the rule.  It's difficult to say but no friendship can work if you're missing two key ingredients: trust and respect.

Not Of These Times

I'm not ashamed to be a child of “the 80s” because it was such a wonderful time despite being short-lived. The decade took a little while to find its voice but by 1983, the disco tunes, gaudy patterns and odd earthy colors of the 1970s had been surpassed by something truly new. Turning on the radio meant you'd hear great music usually influenced by synthesizers. Going to the movies often filled you with a sense of adventure and there was always something to watch on the small screen like cool music videos. My wardrobe reflected the spirit of G.I. Joe with army surplus camouflage but it also included corduroy and the timeless combination of bluejeans and t-shirts. At times, “the 80s” could get a bit hokey but at least this new aesthetic was original.

As early as 1986, I noticed some of the things that made the 80s great start to wane and by the time I entered high school two years later, something was really off. The cool new wave and synthpop I loved seemed to be replaced with rather bland music and it only got worse as the years rolled on.

Songs from 1988 that stand out in my mind as being pretty annoying were:

Bobby Brown "My Prerogative"

Boy Meets Girl “Waiting for a Star to Fall”

New Kids on the Block “You Got It (The Right Stuff)”

Paula Abdul “Straight Up”

Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock “It Takes Two”

Tracks from 1989 that I really disliked included:

After 7 “Can't Stop”

Donna Summer "This Time I Know It's For Real"
Lisa Stansfield “You Can't Deny It”

Milli Vanilli "Girl You Know It's True"

Taylor Dayne “Love Will Lead You Back”

Unfortunately, the 80s were suffering from an identity crisis. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to discard many of the things that had made the decade great but nothing wonderful was being created in its stead. This could clearly be seen in the changing fashions of the late 1980s. Watch an episode of Miami Vice from the first two seasons and you'll see nicely coordinated pastels but skip ahead to the later seasons and dark colors with loud patterns seem to be the norm.

Miami Vice early on in the series.

The color palate definitely shifted in later seasons.

In high school, the dress code reflected this shift too. Some of the cool kids liked to wear parachute pants and oddly colored dress shirts with garish patterns but thankfully a mandatory Bishop Fenwick sweater covered most of it up. (The eponymous television show character Parker Lewis regularly wore these shirts too.) One male student had a black crossover tie that was held together in the center with a diamond stud pin. His outfit highlighted the terrible sense of style we had to deal with...a style that was very different from the jeans, camouflage and corduroy pants that were prevalent not too long ago.

Parker Lewis and his patterned shirt.

My school wardrobe was pretty subdued and usually consisted of khaki pants with either striped dress shirts or turtlenecks. Later on I followed in my brother's footsteps and started wearing the occasional bolo tie as a nod to that alternative 80s look.

The overuse of hair spray was also popular among many of the female students at Bishop Fenwick. The 80s might have been famous for the stereotype of “big hair” but I never noticed this until high school. It was not a good look.

After a while, I felt trapped in these times instead of being a part of them. I had loved growing up in the 80s but that distinctive era just didn't seem to exist anymore.  In 1989, the school was going to have a "remember the 80s" dance featuring much of the music I once enjoyed. This was one dance I really wanted to attend but it was canceled due to a lack of interest.

As the decade passed into history, 1990 brought more music that I just couldn't stand:

Bell Biv Devoe “Poison”

Deee-Lite “Groove Is In The Heart”

Linear “Sending All My Love”

Mariah Carey “Vision of Love”

Maxi Priest “Close to You”
Sinéad O'Connor "Nothing Compares 2 U"

Snap “I’ve Got The Power”

Soulsister “The Way to Your Heart”

Suzanne Vega and DNA “Tom's Diner”
Wilson Phillips "Hold On"

I first heard Bell Biv Devoe's “Poison” during a school talent show. As a few of the cool kids danced on stage in their parachute pants, I wondered what the hell happened to mainstream music.

Annoying songs I remember from 1991 include:

Another Bad Creation “Iesha”

Bryan Adams "(Everything I Do) I Do It For You"
Boyz II Men “End of the Road”

Color Me Badd “I Wanna Sex You Up”

Vanessa Williams “Best for Last”

Some artists would distance themselves from all this “corporately produced” music ultimately giving rise to the genre known as grunge. I was not a fan of this either.

Being an outcast at Bishop Fenwick was bad enough but feeling very disconnected from society itself only added to my feelings of isolation. I found myself listening to doo-wop on the oldies station and new age and smooth jazz on an easy listening station. Later on, I stumbled upon college radio and while much of what they played was just plain weird, I did enjoy a weekly Celtic music show and an oldies show that featured very obscure tracks. When it came to the mainstream, I was no longer buying what society force-fed everyone else.

The Path To A Black Sheep

After an unremarkable first year at Bishop Fenwick High School, I was eager to just be myself.  Feeling free to express my Catholic values was so important to me in addition to making friends and feeling accepted.  Unfortunately, the environment I encountered in high school was fraught with pitfalls. 

It struck me how un-Catholic the school could be at times.  During my biology class, the teacher decided to blurt out her own personal views on abortion which ran counter to what the Church taught about the sanctity of life.  The odd thing was, abortion had nothing to do with the day's lesson.  If one of Bishop Fenwick's goals was to impart Catholic values, it was clear not all of its teachers were on board.

During my Catholic Morality class of all places I got teased for defending the Church's stance against premarital sex.  Some of the bullies who made fun of me that day were so good at navigating the different roles for students, they came out smelling like roses.  At times they appeared to be nothing more than enthusiastic jocks brimming with school spirit.  Some were even Eucharistic ministers during our school Masses.  What faculty member would doubt such squeaky-clean outward appearances but I saw the side of them that was anything but wholesome.  As these bullies handed out Holy Communion, I sometimes wondered what was going on in their minds.

A nun with a strict reputation named Sr. Nancy helped run the library but I found her to be very fair and reasonable with her students.  For one assignment, we had a few weeks to memorize a particular library cataloging system.  Almost all my fellow classmates blew this off and I was one of only two students to pass the exam.  As a reward, we were exempt from the extra work she handed out to the class that day.  A few of the students who had failed actually gave me a hard time for passing the test because in their eyes it was cooler to flunk the exam.  Sometimes academic success carried a stigma especially if you were male and somewhat nerdy.  I wasn’t a great student but bullies used just about anything they could to cut me down.

Friendships were often hard to nurture at Bishop Fenwick simply because the student body hailed from many different communities all along the Northshore with one classmate residing as far away as East Boston.  Since we were so spread out geographically, I never got together with many of the friends and acquaintances I wanted to know better.  When you don't have a driver's license, even relatively short distances seem like a world away.

Like some of my classmates, I came from a middle class background and my parents worked very hard to give me a Catholic school education.  It was a bit of a culture shock to encounter students who were very well-off and incapable of relating to certain economic struggles.  I was flabbergasted to learn one student had been given a brand new Saab not by her parents but by her aunt.  The most my relatives ever gave me was 20 dollars in a birthday card…when we were lucky!  Another student's parents owned a beachfront summer house in Maine.  “Toto…we're not in Kansas anymore.”

I longed for a girlfriend but many of the females at Bishop Fenwick tended to fall into two categories.  Those with strong Catholic values were so prudish, they acted like nuns in training.  Girls who rebelled against the Church's teachings seemed too sexual.  Neither group appealed to me romantically.

A motto I heard over and over again at Bishop Fenwick during orientation was, “Get involved.”  This can be a very difficult thing when you start to feel like an outcast.  All the hope and optimism I had during my freshman year was beginning to slip away.  Many other factors would place me on the path to a black sheep, though.

Another Canary In The Coal Mine

During one class at Bishop Fenwick High School, we were visited by a guest speaker who worked with troubled youth.  He started off his presentation by asking us why miners brought canaries into the mine.  My classmates were befuddled so I answered, “Since a canary is small, it has a fast heartbeat so if there are any poisonous gases released in the mine, it would die first.”  The speaker added when the tiny bird died, it was a signal for the miners to leave because conditions inside the mine were quickly becoming lethal for them.  He then explained how children were society's version of the canary in a coal mine and when we regularly heard news of kids falling victim to violence, it signaled serious problems within our civilization that demanded immediate attention.

The speaker's presentation stayed with me all these years and I was reminded of it a few days ago after reading about the Aug. 11th suicide of thirteen year old Daniel Fitzpatrick.  The seventh grader attended Holy Angels Catholic Academy in Brooklyn, New York and was constantly bullied.  When he asked teachers for help, only one tried to do something about it.  Others simply did nothing.  The misery was so overwhelming, Daniel went into his attic and ended his life.

Daniel Fitzpatrick, 13  /  source: Facebook

His distraught parents said the school didn't do enough to stop the bulling.  His sister alleged one teacher even belittled Daniel by calling him lazy.  Some have claimed the situation was more complex and suggested the child's home life might have contributed to poor grades and angry outbursts.  An attorney for his parents said these accusations were an attempt to discredit the family.

In a statement, Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio said, “While there are many unanswered questions, it is indisputable that this is an unspeakable tragedy.  We must always remain vigilant and attentive to the emotional needs of the children in our care.”  I doubt such words offer any sense of comfort to Daniel's parents.

Weeks before his suicide, Daniel wrote down his feelings in a letter which was later released to the press by his father.  “My old friends changed.  They didn't talk to me.  They didn't even like me,”  Daniel wrote.  “I wanted to get out.  I begged and pleaded.”  It appears Holy Angels Catholic Academy failed to live up to Bishop DiMarzio's high-sounding words.

Judging from my own experiences, most people seem to be clueless when it comes to helping those who are suffering emotionally.  Falling grades could indicate a student is being bullied but so many of my teachers merely wrote “Not working to full potential” on my report card and moved on.  I once wrote a letter to my pastor that described my sense of loneliness saying, “I feel so very lost, empty, and depressed.”  Despite his lofty sermons on lost sheep, he never spoke a word to me about it.  During some of my darkest hours, far too many of my friends appeared dismissive or just weren't there.

People must think suicide is so far-fetched a thing, they simply take another person's anguish for granted.  Instead of meaningful support they'll say, “Oh, you'll get over it.”  “Smile.  It's not the end of the world.”  We play Russian roulette by brushing aside someone's faint cry for help and it's only after a person commits suicide that loved ones suddenly see the missed clues.

   

So many canaries have been lost.

When I was younger, I used to think the problem of bullying could be solved through discipline and a sweeping cultural shift but now I'm not so sure.  Despite zero tolerance polices, diversity programs and anti-bullying legislation, more and more canaries are dying in the coal mine.  A quick scan of the headlines reveals story after story of children succumbing to suicide.  Growing up, we were able to leave our bullies at the school yard but today's teens must contend with the 24/7 cycle of cyberbullying.  At times, society seems more vicious than ever and it has me wondering if some bullies are hardwired.

A few people have decided to use the Fitzpatrick family's tragedy to indict Catholic education in general or push certain political agendas.  As someone who was teased in both private and public school systems, I find such grandstanding to be very insensitive because it takes away from the human side of this story.  All of us are special with unique gifts to bring to the world but another canary was lost this month and now we will never know what lives young Daniel might have touched.

A School In Sheep's Clothing

Bishop Fenwick High School in Peabody, MA

My freshman year at Bishop Fenwick was unremarkable for the most part because I decided to keep a low profile.  The fear of being teased was still on my radar and despite all the speeches during orientation that described Fenwick as a family; I did experience random bullying.  It mostly came down to some of the jocks throwing their weight around by picking on the meek for no apparent reason.

I made a few acquaintances during the first week of classes and when we chose a small table in the cafeteria, a group of jocks decided to commandeer it by sitting right down next to us and telling us to move on.  We felt totally humiliated and sheepishly left to find another table.  Gym class often started with a lap around the football field and I would usually come in second place.  A couple of class clowns decided to call me "Ben Johnson" who was a disgraced Olympic runner accused of using steroids at the time.  So much for earning the respect of others by giving it your all.

The majority of bullying at Bishop Fenwick tended to be more subtle than what I experienced in middle school: a quick insult, a sarcastic laugh or a demeaning look.  Then of course there was being shunned.  I first encountered this during school Masses which took place in the auditorium.  When it came time for the sign of peace, everyone around me bent over backwards to give hearty handshakes to their friends but I was virtually ignored.  Perhaps keeping a low profile had its drawbacks.

One kid who attached himself to our lunchroom group was a bit socially awkward and it really irritated a couple of my peers to the point they just wanted him to stop hanging around us.  Sometimes they would drop hints or ignore him outright.  I didn't think this was right but in my meekness; did nothing to stop it.  One day he approached me in confidence to ask if everyone in our group disliked him.  I told him the truth and said I didn't have a problem with him but a couple of the other kids did.  He decided to stop hanging around us altogether and ultimately transferred to another school the next year.  One of my friends in the group thanked me for finally getting rid of him but I felt awful inside.

Should I have sat with the shunned student and risked being shunned myself?  Were the kids in my lunchroom group worth having as friends?  If Bishop Fenwick actually lived up to the high-sounding words we heard at orientation, these questions would not have been swirling around in my mind.  I noticed a fair amount of inconsiderate behavior from my fellow students that year.

One of the worst incidents actually happened in math class between a couple of trouble-markers and our rookie teacher.  They horsed around just to get a rise out of him but the situation quickly escalated until finally, one of them put a dent in a filing cabinet.  The teacher was so upset he had a meltdown right in front of us and left the room.  A couple of nuns came in to cancel class and he never returned to the school.  We had been assigned to write him get well notes which made for one very awkward experience.

The trouble was, not everyone attended this school for the same reasons.  I wanted to deepen my faith while others sought academic excellence without the Catholic values.  A good number of students placed a high priority on sports while others desired the prestige of a private education.  A few students didn't even want to be here but their parents felt it would be a good influence on them.  Catholic schools seem all too willing to de-emphasize their core values in order to accommodate everyone.  Looking back, I'm surprised by how little scripture made it into the curriculum.  We did have a great religion teacher named Mr. Dalton but sadly, he left Bishop Fenwick for another job after the first two months of my freshman year.  Subsequent religion classes lacked a solid foundation and seemed to be more "feel good" in nature.

As my sophomore year approached, I held out hope things would improve.  There were still a lot of students I didn't know so perhaps I would fall in with peers who shared similar sensibilities.