St Matthews

Saint Matthew’s Catholic school was located on Hessian Avenue in West Deptford, just east of Red Bank Avenue, headed towards Vega and the entrance to the highway. It was affiliated with the Dioceses of Camden. [Closed 2009]

For me, second through eighth grades were spent at this school. Although most of it remains a blur to me today, due probably to self-Imposed preservation, I’ve often wondered how things may have differed had I gone to a public school.

Grades one through six were on the second floor, each with their own classroom and grades seven and eight were on the first floor also in separate classrooms. The first floor was also used as the cafeteria and where the whole school was occasionally shown movies on some Friday’s.
Most of the movies we were shown had religious themes... “Samson and Delilah”, “Ben Hur”, “Joan of Arc”, “the Story of Dominic Savio” and such.
Don’t recognize that last title?
Any properly conditioned Catholic schoolboy can explain it to you. That’s how we were trained not to fight, as young boys sometimes do.
In all fairness, the education provided by the good sisters and those few lay teachers, had higher standards then the standards of most public schools.

At eight years old, in second grade, it was required that you start preparing to receive your first communion in the Catholic Church, which required you to learn how to go to confession.
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned…”
Sure, take an impressionable eight-year-old kid, who’s already overwhelmed by the mere sight of a nun in full habit… Freezes in place when a priest enters a room and throw him in a dark closet until the good Father on the other side, slams open a window and you’re supposed to tell this complete stranger, who you know even then, is on the phone with God reporting everything, all the nasty little things you had done up until that time in your life!

O ay… that’s going to leave a mark!

Allowing about two years to recover from that initial experience… at ten years old, in fourth grade, you start preparing to be confirmed into the Catholic Church, where you take on a middle name of a canonized Saint and would show your willingness to die for your faith... You get slapped on the cheek and everything!
It was suggested that we select two names.
As I was baptized with the middle name of Allan, that was my first selection.
He’d been a good Saint for me so far…
[It wasn’t till much later that I was informed that my first middle name was selected because my mom liked Alan Ladd.]
So my second choice, William, became my second middle name and I’ve been carrying around multiple syllables since that time.

I only recall two of the nuns that I had as teachers. Sister Mary Magdalene, who I had for second and eighth grades and I thought was too pretty to be a nun and Sister Marie Antoinette who was the principal and who I had for sixth grade.
[I think]
Sister Marie Antoinette was the only nun I ever heard swear. [Well, sort of…]
The sisters’ convent was next to the school and they were given a dog as a pet.
Dogs being dogs occasionally leave “droppings” in inappropriate places.
Sister Antoinette requested a group of us boys to go out and pick up the dog “crap” at the rear of the convent.
I thought to myself… God! Did she just say, “crap”?
The sister said, “crap”! Any time now there’s going to be a lightening bolt…

We were required to wear uniforms… Long dark green dress pants, tan pressed shirts and a green tie. You were expected to arrive at school on time, homework complete, ready to “crack the books” and mouth shut.
No… chewing… gum!

There was also the daily indoctrination and brain washing of the Baltimore Catechism. To the best of my recollection, what I got out of the Baltimore Catechism was, whatever you did, it wasn’t good enough, no matter what your penance or remorse, you were still going to hell and although all was seemingly lost, you were expected to persevere, because that’s just the way it was!

So much for those formative years…

Sports?
We had recess in a large sand lot behind the school, occasionally Dodge Ball.
Recess ended with the ringing of a bell, nine times and you froze before that ninth clasp of the bell!
When the bell rang out with a second measure of nine clasps you walked quickly and quietly as automatons back to the school and into your classroom.
[“Nine times signified the Nine Choirs of Angles.” See, there’s still an impact!]

There were some notable hallmarks achieved during my time at St Matthew’s.
History and English were usually easy for me, although my dad kept pushing me towards math. My mom kept buying volumes of encyclopedias at the Acme… or was it the A&P? Both gave out “Green Stamps”!
I’d look through each new volume and read about those pictures that had caught my eye, sometimes for hours.
Reading was an escape to far away places for me.
Although some of the required reading from school was dull and looking back, smacked of some religious censorship.
I excelled in music and choir; at least until adolescence kicked in. I was always requested to participate in choir at Christmas Mass and other high Holy Days.
I was an alter boy. I’ll never forget the fun loving figure of Father Fritz and sneaking a taste of Sacramental Wine.
I was a member of the Safety Patrol and received the Gold Safety Badge award.
It was also during this time that my parents, the good sisters and I, realized there was a budding artist beginning to emerge. I didn’t think much of it. We were given a lesson assignment to draw a cornucopia for Thanksgiving. Mine just turned out looking pretty good.

There were other things going on too about midway through St Matthew’s...
I seemed to be changing… I was growing out of my pants and my socks were always showing!
[Back then, that wasn’t cool!]
The hem of my cassock as an alter boy, seemed to be up by my knees!
My voice started cracking during choir practice and I wasn’t called on to sing much anymore.
I was the only guy in the sixth grade with heavy dark fuzz on his upper lip!
I was skinny and seemed to be growing inches overnight.
I kept bumping into things and knocking them over!
What was happening?
Then there was Mary Connelly… I never noticed her before?
And Roseanne Zwier… I have to stop staring; it’s not polite.
What are these feelings? They can’t be good!
Oh God, I’m going to hell and I’m not even a teenager yet!

My dad never had, “The Talk” with me and I’m unaware if he spoke to my brothers either. I believe he might have felt a little uncomfortable about the subject, or he wasn’t certain where to begin, or he might have been waiting for me to ask the question…
Back then there was also an old adage… “Let him learn about it out behind the barn like I did!”
…Well, we didn’t have a barn!

So there I was… In Catholic school… blasted daily by the Baltimore Catechism, surrounded by nuns and a filling bucket of raging adolescent hormones!
What’s a guy to do?
I retreated inside myself, becoming withdrawn and shy, praying that what ever was happening would soon pass…
[“Baggage” I carried with me for some time.]

St Matthew’s was also my first recollection, where I experienced my first…“Do you remember where you were when something major happened?” event.
I was in the seventh grade; third row from the windows, halfway back in the classroom, Donald Verfalli was on my right, Patricia Kelly was on my left and Mrs. Hillenbrand had just started History…
Sister Antoinette and Mr. Divitto, the janitor came to the door and spoke with Mrs. Hillenbrand. She retuned to the front of the class, told us to close our textbooks.
With a voice struggling to maintain itself, she told us that President Kennedy had been assassinated and killed in Texas.
Shortly Sister Antoinette was leading us in praying the rosary via the PA system.
Some of the girls were crying, most of us were in stunned disbelief as we said the prayers from memory… Our naive innocence had taking a direct hit that day and unknown to us, there were more hits soon to come.

My eighth and final year at St Matthew’s is really somewhat murky when it comes to recollection… [Probably those hormones…]
We went to Colonial Williamsburg, in Virginia as our class trip… Sister Magdalene had laryngitis for almost a week afterwards, as she acted as the tour guide on the bus, during our trip.
Most of us sat idle for almost one week as a few select classmates, who could afford it, received word that they had been accepted at Catholic high schools and of course there was the graduation ceremony at St Matthew’s church.
Besides wearing a white cap and gown, the only thing I remember about the ceremony is Sister Magdalene instructing us to sit straight in the pews and not to pull ourselves up, using the pew backs in front of us, as we weren’t old people.

The education I received at St Matthew’s more then prepared me for my high school classes, but it in no way prepared me for the social requirements of high school; for that I was on my own. God help me!