“Did you get your bus tickets yet?” George asked.

 

“No. They said we could buy them at school” I said referring to a book of public bus coupons, which discounted each one-way ride from a quarter to fifteen cents. “I brought my lunch so I can afford the tickets” I added. 

 

Books-to-keep, snazzy gym uniforms for warm and cool weather, and the usual September beginning of the term supplies including lined work pads, ink cartridges, and pencils, plus a new sports jacket rounded out my freshmen year shopping list.

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Having said good-bye to a few friends and teachers with whom I had spent the past nine years safely snuggled in the parochial womb of catholic grammar school, I welcomed the challenge of a new venue and new faces. In our entire grammar school careers, we had never experienced a school cafeteria lunch and had no idea of the cost, so I brought two dollars for the bus tickets and a brown-bag sandwich for lunch.  

 

George and I boarded the bus at the end of Elm street in Morristown  and debarked at the Bayley-Ellard entrance near Danforth road in Madison. We brought all of our books but didn’t need our gym suits for that first week.   

 

Our homeroom and remaining classroom assignments were sent to us in a welcome packet that August. We gathered in a central area located between the gymnasium and science building. Sister Ann called the crowd of freshmen to order.

 

“Welcome to Bayley-Ellard!” she yelled so all could hear. “Before we go to your homerooms, we are going to assign each of you to a big brother or sister. They are seniors who will guide you through the campus and answer any questions. They will be available to you throughout this first year and beyond if need be. I will read your names and the name of the senior assigned to you.”  

 

My senior was an affable fellow named Bill. He rattled off a list of ‘do’s and ‘don’ts,’ then walked me through the sprawling campus.   

 

“ You have four minutes between classes and Latin I is in the conservatory building at the top of the hill on the opposite end of the campus, so you’ll have to ‘book it’ but don’t worry they give you an extra time ‘cause of the distance. Try to have all the books you need for morning and afternoon sessions.”

 

“That’s good to know.” 

 

We ended the tour at the main building on the second floor. I found my locker and stowed my books. Bill gave me a piece of paper with his homeroom and class schedules.

 

“If you need me for anything, just find me. Okay?’

 

“Sure, Bill. Thanks!”

 

I went into my homeroom, found an empty seat in the back’ and settled in. 

 

“Hi!” a nice voice from behind me whispered. “I’m Ellen.”

 

“Oh. Hi! I’m Joe.” 

 

“Do you remember where the General Science room is? That’s my first class this morning!” 

 

“Sure. It’s by the open area where we all first met. I’m going there too.”

 

“I’ll walk with you then!”  Ellen said.

 

Ellen and I became quick friends afterward. We had a few classes together, but she had her friends from St. Vincent’s and I from Assumption, so we didn’t really socialize much except for a passing ‘Hi!’ 

 

We didn’t have the modern facilities in Catholic school that were afforded to public school students. Bayley-Ellard Catholic school was situated on the former Walker estate, an 1880’s home that contained a Colonial Revival mansion, conservatory and carriage house all repurposed as class rooms. The quiet, stately elegance of the mansion and outbuildings offered an air of safety and welcomed detachment from the outside world.

 

It was the conservatory that is still clearest in my mind. We studied Latin in a tall, light, sun drenched room where delicately paned French doors lead out to an expanse of exquisitely maintained lawn and gardens with singing birds inhabiting the giant old-growth trees. 

 

Spring fever came early to the students in the conservatory. Sister Mary  sometimes led the class through the doors to the patio and onto the lawn where either a brilliant early morning sun beamed on us, or the growing shadows of late afternoon ended our day with a final creak of those ancient door hinges. We were conjugating verbs and reading bits of Julius Caesar’s account of the Gallic wars, and what better place to read it? Sessions in the conservatory put everyone in a better mood—teachers and students alike.

 

“Are you going to the freshmen dance next Saturday?” Ellen asked out of the blue.

 

“Um, I suppose so. How about you?”

 

“Sure. I’ll see you there then!” 

 

It was the closest thing to a date I could imagine. I hoped I would be ready! 

 

Freshmen didn’t drive themselves, so we depended on our parents or older siblings for rides. Fortunately, it would be dark enough that Saturday so the old Chevy that my parents drove wouldn’t be too visible. 

 

The big day finally arrived! Boys pretty much dressed as we did during class. Girls? They could shed their medieval uniforms and show off their legs a little—no, a lot more! Shift dresses and dancing flats showed the boys they meant business and they’d better be prepared to dance their butts off!

 

Only problem, I couldn’t dance. I couldn’t chit-chat or otherwise converse much either. Ellen saw me come in the door to the gym and immediately came over with a girlfriend in tow.

 

“Hi Joe! This is my friend Kathy!”

 

“Hi Ellen! Hi Kathy! Nice dance, huh?”

 

“Sure. Let’s jump in on the next song!” Ellen seemed elated.        

 

The band was a group of local kids in their 20’s, that everyone seemed to know. They played a familiar set of worn rock ‘n roll tunes with occasional slow songs. My best shot at impressing Ellen was with the very next slow song. I just about melted into the floor after apologizing for stepping on her foot for the second time to her resounding ‘OW!’ The song no sooner ended, thhen the band started playing ‘Louie, Louie’ causing the whole room to begin bouncing and gyrating to the beat.  

 

“Do you know what you’re doing?!” Ellen glared at me, pivoted and began dancing with Kathy. 

 

She and Kathy spent the rest of the evening dodging me until it was time to leave. They disappeared out of a side exit. I waited by another door for my mom to pick me up. I didn’t have much to say during the ride home. Ellen became distant and avoided me for the rest of that year. 

 

There were no gym classes at Assumption school. Organized ball sports were available as extracurricular activities for boys, but nothing that I knew of existed for the girls. I was always in a scouting program. Little league and CYO basketball were not important to me.

 

My very first experience in a gym locker room proved awkward as hell as I tried to ignore the fact that I would be showering with a bunch of other naked boys! While I hated volleyball and softball, touch football became my go-to sport. Running through opposing lines and jamming oncoming ball carriers was somehow satisfying to me. Everything became copasetic in time.

 

After freshmen year ended, I did the cool thing and cut off the sleeves of my gym tee shirts before I realized those same shirts were to be worn throughout the four years of high school. I had to buy two new shirts for the next semester. 

 

Shortly into the year, cliques began to form. I found myself back into the artists and bohemian groups, also called 'nerds'. Based on entrance test scores, students were placed into one of four separate classes: A, B, C, or D where the D group had the best scores and the A group the least highest scores. Depending on family financial situations, a lot of D level kids migrated to more elite ($$$) schools. Me? I wound up squarely in the C group with my artsy friends from Morristown as well as new faces from Madison and Morris Plains.  From my biased perspective, the C group collectively had the best sense of humor!    

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