The Catcher retires

Coming of age in 1969 as a freshman at St. Michael's High School in Northampton you could not help but be smitten by J.D. Salinger's stunning work, 'The Catcher in the Rye'. Plus, the similarity between Mr. Salinger and Emily Dickinson, The Belle of Amherst, was strikingly similar.

My freshman English teacher Sister Bernard Francis whom we all called "Bernie"--but never to her face--had assigned a book report presentation before the entire class on any novel that struck our fancy.

I decided to accompany my daring talk on 'The Catcher in the Rye' with a photo slide show almost like a PowerPoint presentation ; and, being the rebellious Holden Caulfield type, I could not resist shooting the scene where Caulfield--who hates profane graffiti especially when it is within the view of children--erases a "Fuck you," while noting he can't possibly erase them all.

Probably one reason 'Catcher in the Rye' is high on the list of books banned from schools and libraries--although equally high when measuring books taught in public schools.

But this was St. Michael's, a classic old style private Catholic school. The nuns could do whatever they wanted, including corporal punishment.

For my final slide I projected a rather large "Fuck You" etched in white chalk on the red brick exterior of the school; I took the photo holding the camera in my right hand while my left hand used an eraser to cover only the F--so everybody instantly got the idea.

Yes, it caused a bit of a group gasp. And then almost everyone turned to look at the teacher who was sitting in the back of the room with the lights down. Her face had turned scarlet red--readily noticeable against the backdrop of her black-and-white nuns habit. But she said nothing.

As she slowly got up from the small wooden student desk and walked toward the front of the room, I was sure my hand would soon be stinging from the impact of a wooden ruler. She simply said, "Thank you Mr. Kelley, return to your seat."

In those few moments, as she angrily approached me, the angst between her roles as an English teacher and Catholic nun played out, and--fortunately for me--the English teacher won.
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Miss Emily (of course).

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you — Nobody — Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! They’d banish us — you know!

How dreary — to be — Somebody!
How public — like a Frog —
To tell one’s name — the livelong June —
To an admiring Bog!
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