Tag Archives: St. Vincent’s School

THE BELLS OF ST. VINCENT’S

The older I become, the more I find myself looking back on my past instead of looking forward to my future. I suppose that’s normal to some extent, given my present age. I will give you a hint: I retired at sixty-two. And that was ten years ago. I enjoyed working, but unfortunately, I developed a health issue. I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure, and the left side of my heart was enlarged.

Apparently, this heart problem can be an inherited trait. My mother had the same heart issue and still lived to see seventy-seven. My mother was one of the most caring and unselfish people I have ever known. She always put everyone’s needs ahead of her own. I never heard her say a hurtful word to or about anyone. 

I am a person who has spent a large portiion of my working life working in Social Services. In my own way, I think I have always tried to emulate my mother. At the beginning of my work life, I was a dental assistant, and at one point, I was an oral surgeon assistant when I was living in California. I worked with Doctor Snyder. His office was a long distance from where I was living in Lompoc, and so I looked for employment that was closer to my residence. In 1977, I found a job working at Robinson’s Department Store in Santa Barbara. I have to admit it was not a job that I enjoyed, in point of fact I hated it. I was selling hats and wigs. It was by far the most tedious and isolating job I ever had. I had to stand in the middle of four long glass display cases, style the wigs, and keep the counters and hats free of dust. I had no place to sit down and no one to talk to.

However, I did meet several people who I befriended, and one of them told me about a residential school for mildly mentally handicapped children. It was within the Santa Barbara boundaries. I had talked to her about how much I enjoyed working with children. And that I had come from a big family and had many nieces and nephews. Who I always enjoyed spending time with when I was living in my home state of New Jersey. I contacted St. Vincent’s School to find out if they were hiring counselors. And they said that they were and I requested an appointment for a job interview.

The day I showed up for the interview, I was surprised to find out that Catholic nuns were running St. Vincent’s. They were the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent DePaul. It seemed to me at the time that no matter how old I was or where I lived, the “Sisters” and I would find our way to each other. I say this because I spent twelve years in Catholic Schools, first with St. Joseph’s Sisters and then with the Franciscans.

I grew up two houses away from Our Lady Of Perpetual Help Church and School in Maple Shade, NJ. So, not only did I attend eight years of elementary school there, but I was basically on-call along with my twin sister to come and work at the school. But also at the convent where the Sisters lived, which was about a ten-minute work down Main Street in Maple Shade. In the Summer, I had to cover all the students’ textbooks so that when School started in September, they would be ready for the students. The rest of the year I had to go up to the Convent at least once a week and clean the pantry that held all the canned goods and dry foods that the sister’s ate. My sister Karen had to iron the Altar Vestments for the church’s altar.

I was glad that I didn’t have to do the ironing.; I absolutely hated ironing. I saw my poor mother bent over an ironing board every day of her life. This was before permanent press clothes were invented. Everything had to be ironed back then. Unless you wanted to walk around looking like you slept in your clothes. My mother also had to hang our family’s clothing out on a clothesline. This was back in the day before there were dryers for clothes. My mother had an old washing machine that had a wringer on it. The clothes had to be pushed through the wringer and then hung out to dry. This was an all-day job. In fact, if it rained, you would have to go through the whole ordeal again.

So, here I was again, face to face with one of the dear sisters. Only this time I was an adult albeit a young one. I was volunteering to apply for a job as a counselor at a Catholic facility to work with children. Who came from many backgrounds. Some of the kids were mildly retarded or what is now called Intelectual Disability. The school had children of many age groups, and it housed both boys and girls. Luckily I was hired and as a “counselor’ in the Laboures Group. I worked a split shift, first shift where I woke up the “girls” and prepared them for the school day, they got dressed, and made their beds. And ate breakfast together in a small dining room. Then, I went home and came back when it was time for the kids to get out of school. I walked over to the school and gathered up my kids. It was all girls from twelve to sixteen. After school, I gave them a snack and helped them with their homework. I was relieved when a night proctor took over at 11 PM.

All the kids had chores after their homework was done. I, with the help of one of the girls, set the tables for dinner. After dinner the girls had free time and most often would watch TV. I always watched with them.

I can not express how much I came to love these girls. And how much they meant to me. Every weekend, Bob and I took one of the girls out for the day. Sometimes, we went hiking or swimming in the pool that was at the apartment where Bob and I lived. Once in a while, we went to the movies. They loved to go out clothes shopping just like any young girl would. At night, after dinner, I often helped them write letters to their families. In my heart of hearts I could not fathom why their parents didn’t want them living at home. Perhaps the schools in their area were not prepared to teach children with learning disabilities. I don’t know for sure. This was about 1978.

Bob was attending Brooks Institute ( a Photography School), and he also worked part-time at night. So, we did not spend a great deal of time together. When Bob finished school, we decided to move back to New Jersey with the hope that Bob would be able to find employment as a photographer.

It was tough to tell my kids at St. Vincent’s that Bob and I were leaving and moving far away. But, we couldn’t afford to live in California any longer since there weren’t many jobs available for photographers at the time. I left a big chunk of my heart with my kids at St. Vincents. It was so hard saying goodbye and knowing that it was highly unlikely that I was ever going to see them again. They wrote me for a couple of years after we moved. And then I didn’t hear from them from then on. As some of them had gotten jobs, or moved back with their families. And life moved on for them as it did for me.

Bob and I bought a small house in Pennsauken, and I proceeded to have a baby, who we named Jeanette, and three years later a second daughter, named Bridget. They filled in that big hole I had in my heart and then some.

Life throws us many curves, and we don’t always know which way to turn. We have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope for the best outcome.

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California Dreaming

It was in the Spring of 1976 when my husband Bob and I moved from Jupiter, Florida to California. Bob decided that he wanted to become a professional photographer. And to that end, he had applied to Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, California. We were living in Jupiter, Florida at the time. He was put on a waiting list for two years.

This is me and co-worker Stacy Smitter at St. Vincent’s in 1976

During the time that we waited to move to California, I worked at Colonnades Health Center on Singer Island. It was located in a hotel owned by John D. Mac Arthur. America’s second-richest man, owner of a $1 billion empire of insurance companies, land in eight states, including 100,000 acres in Florida, and investments as varied as Alamo car rental and MacArthur Scotch.

I was working at a spa, giving facials to wealthy people from all over the world. I often saw Mac Arthur while I was sitting at the reception desk in the Spa. There was a huge window on the wall facing the reception area. And an Olympic size pool just on the other side of the window and MacArthur would walk around the pool area or sitting at the poolside with his nurse. He was nearly eighty at the time and quite frail-looking. But he still admired the beautiful ladies lying out in the sun.

One day his nurse brought him into the spa for a massage and a facial. Luckily, I didn’t give massages only facials. I knew he was the owner of the hotel and a wealthy man. However, I treated him the same as any other client with respect and kindness.

I was paid about four dollars an hour while I worked at the Colonnades Health Center which was considered to be quite generous in 1976. As the minimum wage pay was $2.30 an hour at the time. So, I was able to save all the money I made during the two years that I worked there. And we had enough money for our trip to California and rent for a year. And in addition, I purchased a van for Bob and a tripod for his view camera that was required at Brooks Institute.

We were notified by Brooks Institute when Bob would be able to begin his classes. So, Bob gave his employers Pratt and Whitney United Technologies his notice. At that time, he was working as a New System Coordinator for IBM components.

These are some of my kids at St. Vincent’s during Special Olympics

I will always remember the trip across the country from Jupiter, Florida to Santa Barbara. The only other trip I took across the country was when I moved from New Jersey to West Palm Beach Florida. I took the Auto Train from Lorton, Virginia to Sanford, Florida by myself. I was twenty-two at the time. It was a twenty-four-hour train ride. I never traveled anywhere except to the shore in Southern New Jersey.

Bob and I enjoyed our trip across the country. It wasn’t until I took that trip, I realized how big America was and how beautiful. Bob drove his 1969 Ford Econoline van and towed my 1970 yellow VW behind us. There were great expanses of unoccupied, undeveloped open land from Florida to California at the time. It was amazingly beautiful and unspoiled. It took us about ten days to drive to Santa Barbara from Florida.

Bob and I ended up renting a duplex in Lompoc, which was located in the mountains.

We lived there for about a year and then we rented an apartment in Carpentaria. They raised the rent and we had to move again and we found a place in Santa Barbara.

Two of the children in my group at St. Vincents

I found a job in Santa Barbara at Robinson’s Department Store. I worked there for a year. I sold hats and wigs. And if there was a job more boring than that one, I don’t want to know about it. I met a young woman my age while I was working there she told me she volunteered at a school called St. Vincent’s. She worked with mentally handicapped children. The more she talked about it, the more I wanted to work there. I loved kids and it sounded like the perfect job for me.

I did not hear from St. Vincent’s. So, after a week I started calling them every day for a month. After a month, they called me in and hired me. About a week later I started working a split shift from 6 am until 9 am and then the 3-11 PM shift five days a week. My title was houseparent. I was in charge of eighteen girls ages twelve to seventeen. In the morning I woke them up, supervised them while they got dressed, ate breakfast, made their beds, and got ready for school. I had to dispense any meds that they were on as well. The school was on the grounds. When it was time for school, I escorted them to school and then went back to the dorms and cleaned the kitchen, and made sure the bathrooms and dining area were in order.

In the afternoon I returned and walked over to the school on the other side of the campus and brought the kids back to the dorms after they were dismissed from school. On the way back to the dooms the kids would all attempt to tell me about their day and what kind if any homework they had to do. When we got to the dorms, they would change to their play clothes and do chores. I would check in on them to see how they were doing. And if they completed their chores, I would put a star on their star charts. Star charts were used as a behavioral modification to reinforce good behavior rather than punishing bad behaviors. It was quite effective for most of the children.

Special Olympics at St. Vincent’s School

If all the chores were completed, I would go to the office downstairs and sign out a van, and take all the kids out to go hiking or some kind of outside activity. I cannot emphasize strongly enough how much I enjoyed spending time with these kids. How much fun I had with them. And how much I came to love them. When we returned from our outings the kids would set the table for dinner and then watch TV or play games. On my day off I would take one of the kids out for the day and they would spend it with them. Sometimes, my husband, Bob would go with us. It was great fun and truthfully, they became family to me.

After dinner, the kids that had homework would do it. And the rest would begin getting showers and then watch TV the rest of the night. I would watch TV with them and we would all lie on the floor with pillows. What stands out in my memory the most is that all the kids wanted to lie on the floor close enough to me so that they could touch my hand or my shoulder. I understood that they missed the loving touch of their mothers, fathers, and siblings. And I was the closest thing they had to a family now at St. Vincent’s school.

On Sundays, the kitchen at St. Vincent’s was closed and I had to prepare their breakfast, lunch and dinner, and dessert for them. I would take one of the vans and take the kids out for the day. If it was summertime, I would take them swimming at the pool at the apartment complex where I lived. It was only about a ten-minute drive. If it was wintertime, I would drive them up to the mountains to play in the snow. It was great fun. We would sing on the bus trip to and from wherever we were going.

Shawna Stutzman one of the kids in my group at St. Vincents

Sometimes I wonder how I wasn’t overwhelmed by the responsibility of taking care of eighteen teenagers. But really, I wasn’t. I loved them through and through. I didn’t see their physical or mental shortcomings. I saw wonderful young girls who wanted to have fun and friends just like any other kids would want.

Of all the jobs I’ve had over my lifetime, this was the one that I enjoyed the most and looked forward to going to every day that I worked there. I never had another job where I felt more needed, more appreciated, and more loved.

They are the ones whose faces I can still summon up from my memory of long ago. If there is a time in my life that I would like to live over again, it would be this time with those wonderful girls who loved unconditionally and put everything they could to do as well as they were capable of doing. I often wondered what became of those kids? What kind of adults they grew into, were they able to support themselves? Did any of them live independently, get married, and have children?

I wrote them for a year or two after I moved back to New Jersey and some of them were able to write me back. Although they needed assistance from the house parents that cared for them. My time at St. Vincent’s was one of the best experiences in my entire life. And California will always be a place that I loved more than any place I lived in before or since.

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THESE THINGS I KNOW TO BE TRUE

The more love you feel and give to others, the more you receive in return

It was 1976. Bob and I had been residing in California for one year. When we first arrived, I found a job as a chairside assistant at an oral surgeon’s office in Santa Barbara. We were living in Lompoc. Which is about a half hour drive to Santa Barbara.  Doctor Snyder, the oral surgeon I was working for had a habit of calling me at home at the last minute to tell me the patient for the morning had cancelled. Sometimes I would arrive at his office and he would tell me to go home. Gas was $.59 a gallon in 1976 and I was making minimum wage which was $2.30 an hour. Which wouldn’t have been that bad except sometimes I only worked ten hours a week. I lasted six months at this job.

My next position was at Robinson’s Department Store in Santa Barbara. I worked in sales, selling hats and wigs. If there is a more boring job in the world, I hate to think what that might be. I had to stand at the counter and look busy. Doing what I have no clue.  On a good day I had one maybe two customers per day. I started looking for another job after the first month. A fellow employee at Robinsons told me about St. Vincent’s School on Calle Real Drive in Santa Barbara. It was a residential school for mentally disabled children.

I found my way to the school, and filled out an application. Did I mention that I have absolutely no sense of direction?

No one contacted me. I began a campaign to get hired there. I called St. Vincent’s two, three times a week. I sent letters. After a month and a half, they called me in for an interview. They called me back within the week and hired me.

St. Vincent’s School was run by The Daughters of Charity Catholic nuns. I was hired as a houseparent in the Laboures Group to take care of and assist sixteen girls ages twelve to seventeen.

My kids participating in Special Olympics

My kids participating in Special Olympics

I was assigned a split shift. I arrived at the school before the girls were awake about seven in the morning. I woke them up and supervised them until it was time for school to begin. I walked them to school which was on the same grounds as the residence. I came back when they were dismissed at three pm.

The children that resided at St. Vincent’s had a multitude of disabilities, Down’s Syndrome, Autism, Prader Willie Syndrome and mental retardation. But to me, they just became my kids. I don’t think I could have loved these kids anymore if they were my own. I didn’t look at them as disable kids. I looked at them as children who needed an adult’s love, care, guidance and acceptance.

I taught them self-care, table manners, how to make their beds and personal hygiene. I helped them with their homework. I taught them how to make their beds. I ate all my meals with them.

At night I watched TV or played games with them, helped them write letters to their families. I took them on outings for picnics, shopping for new clothes, the movies. I enjoyed every minute of the time I spent with them.

On Saturdays, which was my day off my husband Bob and I would take one of them out for the day to the mountains, or swimming at our apartment pool or into town. The same kind of activities that you would enjoy with your own children. A few girls wanted to learn how to sew so when it was there turn to spend a day with me, I taught them the basics of sewing.

I have had many jobs since those days, but I can tell you in all honesty that working at St. Vincent’s with those awesome kids was the best position I ever had. I experienced all the good things with them, love, acceptance and being needed, respect. I was making a positive impact on their lives. Whatever I gave to them they returned to me tenfold.

When my husband completed his education at Brooks Institute. I gave my notice. It had been seven years since I had lived in my home state of NJ. And my parents were getting older and I wanted to spend time with them. I wanted my future children to know their grandparents. I have never had a day I felt so sad, as the day I said good-bye to those wonderful girls, and the staff of young women and men that worked at St. Vincent’s School. I wrote the kids for many years until they left St. Vincent’s.

Picture of me and one of my co-workers Stacy Smitter

I look back on those days in California with gratitude and happy memories. Bob and I had the opportunity to be young and free. Live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. And get to know those children. It was a blessing. I often wonder what became of them. But I can only hope that they went on be happy in their lives. And were on the receiving end of all the good things in life, which they so richly deserved.