We were on our feet having Morning prayers when he would finally arrive. At first, Sr. Dorothea was quick with a stern reprimand, but, as the days wore on, she wore down.
“Mr. Presto. Mr. Presto. Mr. Presto. Oh, fuck it !”
This was winter in NJ. The classroom at CCHS had a coat ‘room’ the length of the back wall. A series of doors, side by side…When you opened one door – they all opened, with the most disruptive clatter !
“Mr. Presto. Mr. Presto!”
I believe that she came to some reconciliation when she realized he was extremely bright, good-intentioned, and, this would not stop.
Among other things, this was for my benefit. I found great pleasure in our morning exchange. He would enter the room and over the drone of the Morning Offering we would exchange our ritual greeting.
“Morning, John.” “Morning Vince.”