Two things reminded me of my 8th grade teacher today: Prisoner Cell Block H and Satisfaction.
Miss M. used to be Sister Mary M. and was bat-shit crazy. She was built like a prison warden and looked a bit like Lou Costello. She also seemed to have a thousand tiny teeth but that is neither here nor there. Rumor had it that she was a tortured and closeted Catholic lesbian who had an unconsummated wish that the friend and roommate she frequently talked about was her lover. I have no clue what was really going on inside but there was definitely something twisted up and festering. She was obsessed with Rock 'n Roll, hell, Satan and sex and spent a lot of time talking about it to 13 and 14 year old kids
On one of the first days in Religion class she had written on the board: FRENCH KISSING. She made us define it for her and told us how we should never, ever do this outside of marriage because it simulated the sex act.
Four years earlier, when my sister was in her class, Miss M. told her that both of our parents were going to hell. Actually, just my Dad was going for sure. Mom could still avoid it if she didn't get married again. I'm pretty sure Mom was going to have to spend extra time in Purgatory though since she must have done something wrong to make her drug hooked husband cheat and leave his family.
Miss M. was a music lover.
She was the choir teacher and, when I was in 8th grade, coordinated the effort to have our entire class sing "On Eagles Wings" at the funeral of a girl who had graduated the year before. The girl had been brutally bludgeoned to death in her home, was disfigured and in an open casket. The choir sat up front and I can still see the curly blond wig in my mind's eye and that horrible song gives me the willies.
Miss M. was also in charge of re-writing the lyrics to songs that we sang on special occasions. Our class song was Journey's Open Arms. The opening line was:
Walking beside you
Into this school
Feeling your hand pressed in mind.
I wish I could remember the rest but all that comes to mind is the line:
I'm nearly grown now
ready for life
Another song, written to welcome a new priest to our school after the prior one went to rehab (again a rumor) was sung to the tune of Hey Look Me Over and had a refrain:
Father Gucci*
You're.
The.
One!
Miss M. was also a music hater.
We listened to a 2-second clip of Stairway to Heaven over and over again. She heard the name Satan in the background, I only heard Peanuts parents talking. I've always been bad at making out lyrics though. This was 1982-1983 and the Ozzy/bat/satanic ritual hysteria was at its peak. We sure heard about it and heaven help the poor kid who doodled a Black Sabbath or Ozzy logo on a folder.
Miss M. really had it in for the Rolling Stones. She demanded to know if we knew who they were talking about when they said "Please allow me to introduce myself?" It never seemed very mysterious to me but she seemed to think our young minds were being tricked into hearing about Satan. She told us that the lyrics to Satisfaction were changed by censors and the song originally used the phrase "I can't get no sex reaction." I remember thinking the censors did us a big favor and "sex reaction" was a pretty unsexy phrase.
At the time, I wasn't particularly interested in any of those bands and thought she was behind the times. I was far more interested in Billy Squier and Van Halen. A year or so later, when my musical tastes changed (or maybe just my friends), I still did not gravitate toward these bands. Instead, the world of U2 and Frankie Goes to Hollywood and New Order started to call.
By the time I came back around to the Rolling Stones, Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin, I wasn't very impressionable or likely to be sucked into a Black Mass. I had thousands of better reasons to love the music than rebelling against Miss M. and all that I'd heard, but I'm not going to feel too bad if part of it is the spirit of rock 'n roll rebellion.
*Name rhymed to protect the real (if not the innocent) and maintain the poetry and flow of the lyric.
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