part 1
I did not.want.to.go.to. Brown County.
I wanted to go to Little Miami Junior high with my friends and classmates, who included boys. My family lived outside Blanchester, in Warren County, and I had done the visit and 6th grade dance events at Little Miami, where everyone I knew would be. Plus I had a crush on Toby Adams, brother of Suzanne Adams Cajacob (BCU ’75) with whom I had shared a first kiss, thanks to a spin-the-bottle game (I had decided that that counted) at our first boy-girl party at the end of sixth grade. How could I possibly go to an all-girls school even further out in the middle of nowhere than my own family’s home?
I remember clearly the dark plaid jumper, white blouse, and black flats that I wore on our first day, a Sunday. I was twelve years old and in seventh grade, class of 1971. The older girls in their heels and hose, standing around for sign-ins in the Playhall, looked so sophisticated. I was clearly in trouble.
After our families left, we were ushered into the chapel for a benediction service. My family was nominally — very nominally – Methodist. I knew next to nothing about religion. No, make that less than nothing. So imagine:
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All those women in long black dresses, white head and neck coverings, beads (what were those?) dangling from their belts, crucifixes (what were those?) jammed in their belts — it was a relief to discover that we were supposed to call them all “Sister,” since how would you ever tell them apart?
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A container of water (what was that?) in the entryway to the chapel, and people crossing themselves (what was that?) and genuflecting (what was that)? A priest in resplendent robes (why?) raising a huge silver monstrance (what was that?) above our heads.
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And just to be sure that everything was clarified, all the words were in Latin!
Dad, what have you done to me? I wondered. I was seriously in trouble.
After church, we were introduced to the refectory. I was assigned a seat across from one of my classmates — tall, imposing, and I think African-American/Puerto Rican. Not someone you would encounter in Blanchester, Ohio. “Hi!” I said in my friendliest voice. I had been to summer camp and I knew that you cpuld make friends easily over the dinner table. “My name is Robin!” “WHO CARES?” she thundered back.
Yeah. This school was definitely going to be a challenge. I wondered how fast I could arrange my return to Little Miami.
Brown County Ursulines Alumni Association 