The piece below recounts the actual events of a day at St. James Elementary School in Arlington Heights, IL. 1966, or so.
I flunked a phonics test and
Sister Eleanor is scowling like Satan:
goose-stepping back and forth, spitting
“God Hates You Brats.” She doesn’t know that God
likes kids, even brats and kids who flunk
phonics tests. The big kids call her a Nazi;
another word for booger–like snot–and the
funniest word in the world.
Booger Eleanor! I giggle and
she lurches at me like a rabid penguin. Now,
I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe and her claws
snarl the back of my neck while my lunch
hot-scratches my throat. Someone drops
a pencil and my face jack-hammers the desk where
my dog’s initials are because I love her and
long division is hard. Red plops from my
nose and the lisping boy with lazy-eye starts
crying because his last trip to the drinking fountain
is tinkling from his chair and onto his shoe.
Booger Eleanor is howling
and her face is sweat-gray. The lisping boy’s
belt is in her hand now, but Booger Nazi doesn’t get
to kill him because our normal teacher from
last year who isn’t a nun and doesn’t hate us,
or God,
strolls in with the Principal.
Ergo, the Ogre 
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