It is with great delight that I have the honor to write the introduction to this book. What this has provided for me is the opportunity to take the time and remember my years as a teacher at St. Albert’s in what, dare I say, were magical years. I substitute taught in the winter of 1973. And then was hired as an 8th grade teacher starting in the fall of 1973 through 1976. I was privileged to have the classes of 1974, 1975 and 1976. I was not much older than my students. I was their teacher, but in my mind, I saw myself as a big sister. I taught my youngest brother, St. Albert Class of 1976, so I guess this was a natural assumption.
St. Albert’s knitted the neighborhood together and provided a warm and loving environment in which to learn. The support of the parents was so appreciated. They trusted me with their children. I remember parent teacher conferences, where if things were not what the parents and I wished for, there was a real partnership to figure out the best road for their student. In fact, these St. Albert parents taught me how to be a good parent; memories of them influenced me when I had parent teacher conferences with my own children and was on the other side of the table. Teaching with the Marist Sisters was rewarding. They were practical and down to earth. I am not sure that the students would agree with this, but as a young teacher, who had ideas and loved her students, they were supportive of me. Can I say that Sister Lucina and I would share a glass of wine in the convent some Friday afternoons after the week was over, to debrief and hopefully, to laugh, about the week that was just completed? True that! Having been educated by nuns myself, from first through twelfth grade, drinking wine with Sister Lucina, my principal and boss too, was pretty awesome.
I remember the little things, like walking quickly through the breezeway between the two school buildings during the winter with the wind and the snow in my face. I remember my first car, my Pinto (!) (I know: a Pinto for heaven’s sake) and I would not let my students touch it. That car was the same price as my entire salary! My English class had their “word of the day.” Remember? You were responsible to teach the class a new word when it was your turn. On Fridays, there was a quiz on these vocabulary words. I do recall that I would get laryngitis at least once a term. You all loved it. I let your classmates teach the class that day as I sat in the last seat and watched. You all did a good job here!
The big deal, iconic memories at St. Albert’s were very special. I am still smiling when I think of the Christmas play: part one, secular; part two, religious. My eighth graders spent many a December afternoon painting scenery for this event. I am thinking Sister Linda played the piano. Do you remember our Science and Art Fairs? The Art Fair part was my delight. I still have some of the album covers that my students designed in Art class. The Mandela project was also a favorite assignment. On some Saturdays, I would watch the boys practice basketball with Mr. Fron at some gym in a school on Michigan Avenue. And oh my! Of course the eighth grade trip to Cedar Point was SO MUCH FUN.
The Class of ’75 holds some unique memories of course, as all classes do. The most dear to my heart is the caring and generosity of this class. We did some kind of fundraising to, I imagine, help pay for Cedar Point. I am not even sure it was about Cedar Point, but what else could it be? I do remember that some of the class could not raise the money needed, and some classmates raised more than their quota. We held a class meeting. The cards were on the table: what do we do? My heart sang when the class came up with the idea to share their funds, if available, with their classmates who were struggling so that money was not an issue and that all could reap the rewards. It was a moment for a teacher. A big moment: when she realizes the goodness and kindness of the young people that is HER class; when she realizes how important this school is to her students’ lives; when she realizes the evidence of good parenting.
It is always sad to say goodbye. We have already said goodbye to each other at your eighth grade graduation. We have already said goodbye to St. Albert’s school. And now to the Church of St. Albert’s. But the stories that all of us tell of our years at this magical place and neighborhood, of our friendships and our episodes are always there to remember. Hopefully we laugh at many of these memories. Hopefully we realize how precious they were.
Irene Patalan
