Nothing Goes to Plan
It’s Sunday and dutifully we headed off to church and were pleasantly surprised that it was a children’s mass. The liturgy, prayers and hymns were all arranged by the students at the local catholic school. It was a wonderfully uplifting service filled with colour, smiles and joy right in the middle of lent, what a pleasure it all was. I was taken back to the many masses celebrated at the catholic school where I attended high school. They were always so joyful, busy and often inspired. Of course these masses also signified both the beginning and end of a school term, the first mass of the year always fresh and full of positive energy and promise, the last mass always nostalgic and excited. The choir belted out the folk songs accompanied by guitars, recorders and percussion, we all enjoyed it but nobody admitted it. There was the unacknowledged competition between classes to have the most memorable theme, yet I am sure not many are remembered any more. I can only remember one with any certainty: it was an “Ash Wednesday” mass that my class arranged, funny though I cannot for the life of me remember what year it was. The theme was “Take a look at yourself” and we used the Michael Jackson song “Man in the Mirror” as our “inspiration”. I even remember whose idea it was, admittedly not mine!
I can count on one hand the times I have truly felt God’s presence and that Ash Wednesday mass was one of them. Mass was compulsory attendance for all pupils, I do not recall if the non catholic teachers were always at the masses but they were all there that day. That mass had an effect on all who attended it; there was a real sense of peace and prayerfulness throughout. The most extraordinary thing to happen that day was that every pupil and teacher, catholic and non catholic went up to receive the ashes on their foreheads. I am sure there are many who will have very different recollections of that mass, but I will always remember that sense of quiet contemplation and joy that seemed to settle over the school that day. All it took was twenty or so hormonally charged high school girls with a flair for the dramatic, a love of music, a little inspiration and the Holy Spirit to unite an entire school in true peace and harmony.
So it’s the third Sunday of lent and there we were singing hymns that took me back to Catholic school days. How certain I was of the path my life would take, I knew exactly where I was going and what I wanted to do. How wrong I was, very little has gone according to that self assured, confident teenaged plan. I am horrified at just how naive and idyllic I was. I was living in a perfect world. I remember one of the things my school prided itself on was that the education the students received prepared them for the “real” world. I do not believe that any school can truly prepare a young adult for the “real” world. School life is so structured; students are given time tables, told when things start and when things finish. A student’s life is worked out for them, when they will study, when they will eat, when they have holidays even what clothes to wear at different times of the year. All the student has to do is pitch up, follow the rules and achieve at least a minimum pass mark. No pressure at all! Then we become university or technikon students and suddenly everything is up to the student. That sudden sense of freedom, when it didn’t matter if they don’t go to lectures or hand in assignments is narcotic and though I know many who finished their studies with honours and now have successful careers I also know many intelligent people who spent their tertiary student days in a constant “party” mode and now with no qualification are working just to get by and not using their full potential. Though I chose not to study and began working immediately, I was not immune. Oh the parties and drunken fun we had! I began my independence living in a commune and what fun it was, five young adults, a pizza delivery, a bottle of “Klipdrift” brandy, a 2l coca-cola and a pool table does an all night party make. How I managed to get through the next severely hung over working day I have no idea. But manage I did. How I managed to live on a salary of R950.00 a month is also a mystery I am now unable to solve. Working was just a means to a drunken end; there was no thought of diligence, study or promotion. Being a grown up, earning money and the freedom to make my own decisions and mistakes was far too much fun to bother with the future and that teenaged plan.
Here I am twenty years on from those idyllic and memorable Catholic school days older and a little wiser perhaps, reminded by a children’s mass of my youth and I realised that even though I have achieved little that I had planned to I am exactly where I want to be, sitting on a Sunday evening at my lap top listening to my Butterfly playing her xylophone while my soul mate listens to jazz on his $1600 sound system. I am, a wife, a mother and a “wanna” be poet. I am content, happy and feeling just a little bit sentimental.
I can count on one hand the times I have truly felt God’s presence and that Ash Wednesday mass was one of them. Mass was compulsory attendance for all pupils, I do not recall if the non catholic teachers were always at the masses but they were all there that day. That mass had an effect on all who attended it; there was a real sense of peace and prayerfulness throughout. The most extraordinary thing to happen that day was that every pupil and teacher, catholic and non catholic went up to receive the ashes on their foreheads. I am sure there are many who will have very different recollections of that mass, but I will always remember that sense of quiet contemplation and joy that seemed to settle over the school that day. All it took was twenty or so hormonally charged high school girls with a flair for the dramatic, a love of music, a little inspiration and the Holy Spirit to unite an entire school in true peace and harmony.
So it’s the third Sunday of lent and there we were singing hymns that took me back to Catholic school days. How certain I was of the path my life would take, I knew exactly where I was going and what I wanted to do. How wrong I was, very little has gone according to that self assured, confident teenaged plan. I am horrified at just how naive and idyllic I was. I was living in a perfect world. I remember one of the things my school prided itself on was that the education the students received prepared them for the “real” world. I do not believe that any school can truly prepare a young adult for the “real” world. School life is so structured; students are given time tables, told when things start and when things finish. A student’s life is worked out for them, when they will study, when they will eat, when they have holidays even what clothes to wear at different times of the year. All the student has to do is pitch up, follow the rules and achieve at least a minimum pass mark. No pressure at all! Then we become university or technikon students and suddenly everything is up to the student. That sudden sense of freedom, when it didn’t matter if they don’t go to lectures or hand in assignments is narcotic and though I know many who finished their studies with honours and now have successful careers I also know many intelligent people who spent their tertiary student days in a constant “party” mode and now with no qualification are working just to get by and not using their full potential. Though I chose not to study and began working immediately, I was not immune. Oh the parties and drunken fun we had! I began my independence living in a commune and what fun it was, five young adults, a pizza delivery, a bottle of “Klipdrift” brandy, a 2l coca-cola and a pool table does an all night party make. How I managed to get through the next severely hung over working day I have no idea. But manage I did. How I managed to live on a salary of R950.00 a month is also a mystery I am now unable to solve. Working was just a means to a drunken end; there was no thought of diligence, study or promotion. Being a grown up, earning money and the freedom to make my own decisions and mistakes was far too much fun to bother with the future and that teenaged plan.
Here I am twenty years on from those idyllic and memorable Catholic school days older and a little wiser perhaps, reminded by a children’s mass of my youth and I realised that even though I have achieved little that I had planned to I am exactly where I want to be, sitting on a Sunday evening at my lap top listening to my Butterfly playing her xylophone while my soul mate listens to jazz on his $1600 sound system. I am, a wife, a mother and a “wanna” be poet. I am content, happy and feeling just a little bit sentimental.
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