Sister Regina

I can honestly say that in all my years of school—and that includes college and graduate school-- I never had a problem with any of my teachers---even the ones with a prickly nature. That is, all but one: Sister Regina Reagan, my high school chemistry teacher.

I wasn’t Sister Regina’s favorite—not by any means. And the only saving grace was that Sister Regina hated my friend Jill too. And Jill and I were disliked for the same reason. We each had a private tutor for chemistry. It enabled us to ace Sister Regina’s chemistry exams. We were the only ones that did. The other 58 girls in her 2 classes floundered miserably—and I think she liked that. Sister Regina enjoyed making girls miserable. It was a source of sadistic pleasure. She smiled every time she handled back a test with a disappointing grade. She frowned when she gave back mine and Jill’s.

And had it not been for Bob Fowkes, my father’s friend, and  an amazing chemistry teacher from Yonkers’s high school I might have thought that I was incapable of understanding chemistry at all. But Mr. Fowkes made chemistry easy-- not abstruse—he made it fun. And he explained things in simple ways—like his electron bus rule--and LEO says GER (loss of electrons is oxidation, gain of electrons is reduction).

And up until late May of my junior year I managed to stay out of Sister Regina’s way. I kept my head low and did my work. I raised my hand even though she never chose to call on me—she preferred to call on the girls who did not raise their hand because they did not know the answer. I maintained a low profile. But right around the last week in May, Sister Regina cornered me in the hallway in between classes. And she told me that I was a disgrace to myself and the school. And that  I was the most self-destructive child she had ever met. And she pitied me. And she told me that I would never be a success in life. And she finished by saying that I better pray every night for redemption or I was going to go straight to hell. And then she walked away. I said nothing. I knew better than to argue with a crazy person.

Sister Dillane was the principal of the school—she liked me. Not just because my father was her personal human resource guy—he gave her lists of talented teachers who were excessed from Yonkers public schools--and not because my father and his friends Renny and Frank formed the band that played at the yearly fundraiser either. No Sister Dillane actually liked me for me—I was her “go to” kid—the one she called on to do recruiting at the elementary schools. I was the kid who ran the student exchange program with Fordham Prep. I was on the student council and every other leadership oriented committee. I was that kid—the one all the teachers and administrators but for Sister Regina liked.

So after my little encounter with Sister Regina I went straight to Sister Dillane’s office even though I had another class. And I told her what had happened minutes before in the hallway. And I started to cry. And Sister Dillane was not pleased—it got her Irish up. And then Sister Dillane told me that I didn’t have to go to Chemistry class anymore. She permanently excused me. She put me on my honor to go to the library during the time I would have gone to class. She gave me independent study. And I didn’t have to worry about making up labs—or classwork either—she would personally see to it. And she guaranteed that Sister Regina would not punish me in my grades or Sister Regina would have to answer to her.  Sister Dillane meant business. And she sent me back to class.

The story ends in a predicable way. I excelled in chemistry and finished the course out in the library. Sister Regina taught for only one more year and then she retired—I am sure it was forced--and her replacement was an excessed teacher from Yonkers Public Schools. Everything ended up happily ever after.

Today my mother gave me the news that Bob Fowkes died. He had been sick with cancer. I will never forget what a wonderful teacher he was—neither will my brother who also had Mr. Fowkes as a tutor. The thing about good teachers is how they inspire—and how they remain with you for a lifetime---good teachers are that important. And so are good principals—particularly when they do the right thing and do not defend sadistic staff members.