Our Lady of the Angels Academy - Angelican Yearbook (Enfield, CT)

Page 19 text:

A VERY SUCCESSFUL EXPERIMENT! Distilling water is usually a very quiet process when done by experienced and sober people. But, when we tried a hand at it, we caused a bit of excitement. It was our first experiment and we were frantically running about in our rubber aprons and over-sleeves looking for the necessary apparatus. The setting up was a long and tedious process. Our instructor, Mother Viterbia should be ad¬ mired for her patience! Of course, we know that Mother laughed at heart at our nervousness and excitement, but just then we were too busy with our first experience in the chemical lab to be aware of any amused spectators. With a sigh we completed the “setting up.” Before turning on the water. Mother tested the omits of our labor for firmness, etc. Alas ! By fateful omission the rubber tubing was not inspected. The students were all eyes, closely watching the procedure. Splash! Oh! “What happened, girls?” When we had wiped the ofifending liquid from our eyes and faces, the wilted appearance of Mother’s wimple, our faces and the poor lab told the story. Per¬ haps we were rude in our outburst of laughter, but until this day we do the same whenever we recount the episode. The excitement was over and two guards of honor were pa¬ tiently awaiting the first drop of distilled water. The desired drop finally fell! What joy ! They were overwhelmed and gave way to their excitement. Didn’t they run across the lab to share the latest news with the teacher and the remainder of the class ! But before they or the news reached their destination, some glass apparatus, after a loud but fruitless protest, went to its eternal rest! Sophia Zdrok ’45

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Pioneers at Enfield “Who are they?” -— Why — we, of course! eleven young ladies who had the rare fortune of forming the first Juniorate group in Enfield. We had always considered such a prospect unusually ex¬ citing. However, now that we’ve lived through such momentous days, we’ve discovered, in addition, that the experience is unfor¬ gettable. Our first day in Enfield will certainly always remain a particularly vivid page in our book of memories. just as the chapel bell rang out announcing the hour of two, the last excited girls arrived, slightly bewildered by the newness of their environment. There was little time for reverie, however, for the heartiest welcome possible was awaiting us. Everyone seemed to be so happy that we had finally arrived, for at last the Province was complete. The warm, joyful spirit was mutual. Our first ac¬ quaintance was the quaint little chapel. Here we knelt in thanks¬ giving for the graces just received and asked for abundant bles¬ sings, so necessary for the coming year. After this short but sweet visit we were invited to dinner — and what a dinner ! Abundant and well-prepared, it was like a banquet. We had the privilege of being- served by the Postulants who supplied the information about the “how, when, and where” of Enfield. In the evening. Reverend Mother greeted us warmly and sin¬ cerely, giving us from the first moment a feeling of security in her care. Then we ventured down, the hill for a coveted glimpse of our new Juniorate. Silently admiring the attractive location, we were already longing for the day when we could call it our own. We were confident that it would satisfy our expectations. All too soon, it was time to go to bed. It was a pity, we thought, that our happy first day had to end. However, we found that within a few minutes after tumbling into bed, we were living everything over in dreamland, as well as anticipating our entrance into our new ] uniorate. On the Feast of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, November the twenty-first, our expectations were more than satis¬ fied, for it proved to be a happy, comfortable home, leaving an abundant harvest of pleasant memories for its eager reapers. Our AEMA MATER, and all that it stands for, shall always be treasured by The Class of To

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THAT FATEFUL MARCH THE THIRD A few days preceding the month which comes in like a roaring lion, we became very docile — very cautious. And on March third we hold on to our hats. For no matter what precautions we take, a disastrous fate is ours on that day. On March 3, 1942, fourteen timid, yet adventurous Freshmen skipped into Music Class, anxious to find out what happens to un¬ prepared culprits. Their curiosity was satisfied only too well, for a few moments later an indignant teacher sailed out of Room 204, followed by twenty-eight eyes, widened with fear and wonder. That afternoon, the Freshmen virtuously abstained from the movies shown every Tuesday, in order to make amends for the unprepared lesson. It was merely a coincidence (and a well-guarded secret) that this was our punishment for the morning episode. On March 3, 1943, we tiptoed into Geometry class, sat down and hoped for the best while fearing the worst. We almost whis¬ pered our answers. There was a pitiful look in our faces. Rut no fortune is merciless. Out sailed another teacher. Next year we thought we had outwitted the fate that chained us to a tragic March 3. Of course, English class had not been ideal, but the teacher sat through the lesson as if Her life depended upon it (ours did.) We heaved a sigh of relief when the day passed with¬ out the usual storm. Alas ! We counted our chicks before they were hatched, for, that day, one of our classmates had been transplanted to another garden — for she entered the Novitiate of the Sisters of the Poor of St. Francis. Of course we were glad that she had been true to her vocation, but it was not consoling to hear that we had lost a member of our class. This year we were sure that we had escaped our fate for March 3 fell on a Saturday. Surely the tradition would be broken. No such luck! Ironically enough, it followed the course of an important holiday — it was moved to March 2, its vigil. The disturbing ele¬ ment was an apparently innocent looking book, full of wisdom which we had not deigned to digest. But the less said about our woes, the better. It is sufficient to say that we’re glad the last “fateful day’’ has gone. Florence Rakowska, ’45