Father Peddicord

Fr. Peddicord, O. P.
Theology Teacher at Fenwick High School

Peddicord had a way of defying gravity. His posture was straight but somehow his entire body was always leaning forward in a way that would have made anyone else fall down. He was tall, quick and thin and his white robe would flutter as he floated through the room. Whenever anyone horsed around in class he would lean over them glaring and in an ascending melody describe their actions as "EEEEEVILLL."

Of all my high school classes at Fenwick I learned the most in and generally most enjoyed my four years of Theology. The Dominican Brothers and Fathers shared deep insights into the history of the Catholic Church and Christianity. Their method of teaching was to give it to us whole. We weren't spared any details of the horrors of the inquisition or other church abuses like the selling of indulgences. We were given the reasons the Anglicans and the Protestants broke away from the Catholic Church. Christ's life of charity was emphasized over the more dogmatic stories from the Old Testament. Peddicord in particular afforded us a level of enthusiasm, openness and honesty that made his classes fascinating. He was probably the first teacher I noticed who spoke entirely without cynicism. He empathetically elucidated the lives of the Saints and the trials faced by those martyred. The northern wall of his classroom was lined with tall cast iron frame windows through which I'd often stare into the sky while imagining his stories.

At the end of my last year with him we were able to watch The Mission together in class. That movie very clearly defined to me the idea that while an institution may not always make the right decisions, an individual can still act in accordance with his own conscience to do the right thing. That lesson still resonates from time to time.

Magicicada Septendecim

Mr. Finnell

Mr. Finnell
Mathmatics Teacher at Fenwick High School

I can't remember which came first, "Sprockets" or the 1990 Chicagoland emergence of the 17 year periodical cicada brood but something tells me the cicadas came first.

The bases of all the trees in front of our Elmhurst home and all those along the sidewalks leading to school were buried in cicada shells. Open classroom windows let in fresh air and the afternoon distraction of droning cicada song. Spring fever led a few of us to the obvious conclusion that we should investigate recipes for cooking cicadas and dare one another to eat them. At home I gathered a few choice specimens in an empty spaghetti jar and carried them to school in my bag. I didn't bother to leave them in my locker because they were a good distraction between classes.

After lunch in Algebra class the outdoor buzzing of cicadas led my jarred specimens to join together in the song. Although the jar muffled their sound as they blended in with the others Finnell must still have sensed something because he scanned us in silence and probed at us to see what was going on. My friend Ilic sat in front of me so at some point it seemed harmless to open the jar and place a cicada on his back. Ilic had agreed to eat a live cicada after school if we gave him $20. He noticed the bug in no time and in turn put it on Netterville's back. Netterville however was not aware of the cicada and when it reached his collar and buzzed he stood up spinning and still attached to his desk, crashed into other desks and rolled around until someone took it off. Mr. Finnell correctly determined that I had something to do with this and asked me to leave the classroom even though I sat two seats behind Netterville. No one else got into trouble. On a formality he did not send me to jug or to the principles office so I recall that I hid in the restroom until the period was over and never got into trouble.

Fenwick's general dress code was dress pants, shirts and ties but there was a sweater loophole that took away the need for a tie and dress shirt if you were careful. One of my favorite outfits at this time was a charcoal sweater with a zipper on the neck. I was able to get away with no shirt and tie as long as I zipped up the sweater.

Finnell was probably the first person I knew to have mastered the comic pause when making a joke. Whether he was picking on students that were not paying attention or asking questions of students that were likely to know the answer his questions were always formatted as follows.

Question + long pause + student's last name.

example 1: "Who knows the answer?. . . . . . . . Simcoe?"
example 2: "Where is your homework?. . . . . . . . Ilic?"

This generally raised spirits and led to laughter from the rest of the class.

I can't remember the question Finnell asked me that spring but I do remember that I was wearing my charcoal sweater when he changed my last name to "Sprockets" much to the approval of the rest of the class. "Sprockets" stuck for the rest of the semester and a few classmates also adopted it for a time. He was making reference to the Mike Meyers character on Saturday Night Live.

All tomfoolery aside, I learned more about math in Finnell's classes than I ever have before or since.

Mr. Spitznagel

Mr. Spitznagel
Social Sciences Teacher at Fenwick High School.

In high school everyone was called by their last name.

One day Sepe(pronounced Seppy) came to class with a five o'clock shadow and Spitznagel pounced on him for not being clean shaven. When Sepe didn't offer a good explanation for this Spitznagel asked him to take off his shoe. Sepe refused but with a raised voice Spitznagel insisted and Sepe was obliged to comply. Spitznagel then asked him to take off his sock and put it in his mouth. Sepe became indignant and once again refused but Spitznagel got right in his face and with a booming voice insisted again. Sepe complied and then took the sock out of his mouth. Spitznagel demanded that Sepe keep it in his mouth for the rest of class or he would get jug(judgement under God - Catholic school detention) for a week. Sepe complied.

Spitznagel did not like the way I tucked in my loose fitting shirts so I generally tried to fly under the radar. I was not a good reader and was not yet mature enough to find history interesting so I never earned better than a C grade in his American History class. However, he did manage to teach me that I had a lot to learn. We got into an argument once about The Wizard of Oz. I got very annoyed when he suggested that L. Frank Baum's book offered political commentary on America. I was so sure that it was just a kids story that I scoffed back that there wasn't anything more to it than that. He offered extra credit to anyone that would research the question. Of course the very next day someone came in and proved me wrong. Mr Spitznagel didn't gloat about it, he just moved on to the next topic. I learned to respect him. Something about that day has always stuck with me and I try to avoid speaking out in public when I am not certain about something.