Dancing the Highland Fling

Dancing the Highland Fling

 Another Catholic school girl saga.

One thing that was certain in Catholic school was that one had to OBEY the Nunners. There were several types of nunners. Our nunners were Presentation sisters, mostly from Germany and Ireland who came here highly educated and highly set in their ways to teach all of us wayward Catholic children. One obeyed them. One initially feared them (as is mentioned in episode one of the Catholic Schoolgirl sagas regarding rolling towel dispensers in the girls’ bathroom). After prolonged subjection to their eccentricities one learned to tolerate, obey, and wait for the school bus to free ones spirit back into the real world.

When I was older, maybe 7^th or 8^th grade I had determined that I would join the ‘grey nuns’. They wore grey robes with long veils and emanated a sort of glowing love for naughty girls. These nuns came to speak to us about their work with seriously wayward girls, the kind whose waywardness one didn’t specify openly but it was clearly understood. I think I just wanted to join the wayward girls and the only way I could do that was to be a grey nunner. (I obviously hadn’t devised a plan of any sort and never did follow up on the whole thing.)

As a young 6^th grade girl – I think it was 6^th grade but it could have been 4^th grade, I’m pretty sure it was an even number  – I was treated to a stint under Sister Mathilda, an Irish nun who to me seemed rather old. She had a heavy accent and was stern for the most part. One of her more outgoing habits (pun) each year was to gather up two groups of girls – 6 in one and 4 in another or maybe it was 8 in one and 6 in the other, more even numbers – and put them through training to become Irish dancers…maybe she had always aspired to it herself but ended up in the nunnery where dancing was probably prohibited. So she projected her dream on other unlikely and completely innocent young girls in Catholic school who she knew would have to do her bidding and so she could be nothing short of successful in achieving her goal. A rather selfish and egotistical thing to be sure.

This was way back when there was a local television show called Party Line, a sort of talk show with newsy community items and typically little performances by untalented talents within the viewing area. It was quite popular, much like bridge parties, PTA, and church events. It was considered quite the privilege to be featured in the entertainment segments and Sister Mathilda strove to accomplish the chosen placement every year. And yes, we had to dance on Party Line.

I was one of the chosen few of the group of 4 (or 6) and our job was to dance the Highland Fling and another little ditty that Sister made up to the tune of ‘I’m a Little T-pot”. We had costumes too.  The costume thing was probably the reason I was included because one had to be a particular size as the costumes were used each year and never replaced or altered. We wore funny little plaid hats, box pleated skirts, and plaid banners that fell from one shoulder across our bodies. White shirts and white knee socks filled out the ensemble.

Being rather shy about appearing in any type of performance (maybe not shy but more nervous that I’d screw up and look stupid), I was a little taken aback when picked for this questionable performance but soon became aware of the advantages. Often times during the school day Sister would excuse us from class and take us to another room, I think it was the library, where we would practice our dance steps. I didn’t like being in the classroom so I thought this was a fair trade.

The other girls (6 or 8) had to learn the Virginia Reel (I think that was it, it was the Virginia something, and I don’t know how that had anything to do with being Irish – which none of us were). They wore white outfits and were much more sophisticated. Their dance steps were more complicated though so I wasn’t too envious of their higher status. Fewer mistakes to make in the Highland Fling especially if one had to make them in front of however many hundred people watched Party Line in the middle of the day. Fargo was a small town then and I suppose it was mostly the housewives who watched but it was still disconcerting.

As we continued our practice I soon tired of the whole thing. It seemed silly to me and I conveyed my sentiments to one of the other girls in the group who must have snitched on me to the Sister because as we came closer to the date of our debut Sister became more agitated and at one point took us all into the cloak room (a favorite terrorist spot for nuns and lay teachers alike) and proceeded to ‘dress us down’ about ‘someone’ who didn’t appreciate her efforts and who denigrated the entire group by making fun of the whole venture. That was me of course. So after pressing her point she excused all but myself from the cloakroom. Doom.

Sister was in a tight spot. She wanted to fire me and then probably punish me in some outlandish Irish tradition but we were too close to deadline and she didn’t have time to train anyone new. So instead she threatened me with angry words and pointed finger and tried to instill the utmost in guilt which didn’t really work as I was used to being hauled into the cloakroom or the principal’s office for various misdeeds and anyway I was now preoccupied with going through the likely tattle tale suspects in my head at the time and I think I know who it was. She was one of the Virginia Reel dancers. She was a sort of snobby girl who thought that the whole episode of being selected to perform on TV was a boost to her popularity level. I on the other hand knew the whole thing was silly.

Most of all I felt bad for the other girls who probably didn’t want to perform either but weren’t brash enough (or foolish enough) to make it known. I don’t know if it was brash actually. I just always seemed to voice my opinion at the wrong time and always seemed to have one. Honesty. That was it. Or maybe precocious is what I’m looking for here.

Anyway, in the end we did appear on Party Line and as far as I could tell it was a resounding success but we were not treated to any reviews of any sort and didn’t win awards. It was simply a filler in a timeslot and Sister Matilda took all the credit anyway stating how difficult it was to create dancers within a short time frame and with girls of little or no talent whatsoever.

After that I appeared on Party Line several more times, once with the school choir which was another interesting episode. We were in high school (Catholic) and one of the boys had a driver’s license and an old hearse which we all loved to ride in and so we packed in on the way to the TV studio. Since there were so many of us it was a tight squeeze and my position was on the lap of a boy in the front seat. After we got situated he reached out and grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut. This was a problem as I had not completed the balancing act on the boy’s lap and my hand was still on the outside of the top of the car. The car door was slammed shut. I winced and turned to the boy underneath me and said, ‘Bobby (not his real name) I believe my hand is still outside’ whereupon he freaked out. Indeed my hand was clutching the top of the car between the door and the frame. He was mortified and kind of in awe that I wasn’t screaming bloody murder. I think the weather stripping on the old hearse had long since dissolved and that’s what saved me. There was space enough between the door and the frame so that my fingers weren’t broken. Only badly bruised and swelling. What’s more it was my job to indicate the specific keys each part of the choir were to use by playing the chords on the piano in the studio before each song. It was an A Capella choir. I did manage and both the nunner and the boy were quite amazed at my courageous attitude. (It really wasn’t all that bad, just looked terrible and I made the most of it for sympathy).

One other time, probably when I was around the age of the dance routine, I appeared on Party Line when I saved up a whole bunch of money going door to door collecting spare change for some sort of charity. I think it was food for the poor or some such thing. It was probably illegal going door to door like that without a permit but I wasn’t chastised or arrested and I have no idea how I managed to make an appearance on Party Line with my little canister of coins but I was very proud of myself for my ingenuity – more so for that than the actual charity deed. I was a weird kid. Now I suppose I’m a weird old lady. Oh well. Life gives you what you get.

Here I am in my cute little costume - front on the left is me. Cute huh? You can see the more sophisticated Virginia Reeler costume on the girl in back on the left. Good Grief!

(And I'm pretty sure the girl peeking out on the far right is the snitcher!)