This one's for Whoopi.

 

There comes a point in every attention-deprived child's life where he or she makes a great discovery; a wonderful secret kept from them by mean adults who don't want it getting out. For me, it happened in the sixth grade, during a school-wide Mass to honor the feast of Mary. I was standing there, thinking of the Blessed Virgin and her grace-filled ways, when it hit me like a Tearjerker from the back of the school bus: Getting in trouble with teachers was funny, and kids like kids who are funny. I could get in trouble and be funny!

We were singing the hymn “Hail Holy Queen.” You may be familiar with this song because you are:
A) Catholic and probably related to me, or
B) a fan of the iconic Whoopi Goldberg.

Whoopi's hilarious turn as lounge-singer-posing-as-a-nun in the 1992 comedy “Sister Act” was nothing short of genius, and at that moment it gave me the inspiration to turn my life around. Maybe I wasn’t the coolest kid in school. Maybe I wasn’t the prettiest. But I could be funny. I could be brave. I could be like Whoopi. 

In the movie, Whoopi helps the struggling church choir by beefing up their repertoire, taking hymns like “Hail Holy Queen” and making them rock-and-roll gospel songs.  [This is achieved in part by adding lots of “whoa-whoas” and “ooh-oohs” between lyrics.] If you haven’t seen the movie; do. It’s a classic.

Always a Whoopi fan, I’d seen the movie and its sequel, “Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit” a few times. And I saw an opportunity within the music choice of Mass that day. While the rest of the school sang with the quiet dignity of a repressed Catholic, I tentatively started adding in some whoa-oh-oh's. I heard a few giggles, so I got more aggressive. Before too long my bee-bops and scats went beyond the tidy path Whoopi had laid out for me. I lost my inhibition and ran with the thrill of being supported by my peers. I was like that quiet, nerdy nun who suddenly busts out with an awesome voice! Minus the awesome voice.

Naturally, there were consequences to my actions.

At my grade school, at least in the 1990’s, if a student acted inappropriately, he or she first received a warning. If the behavior continued, the offending student was sent to “The Support Room.” This was a room where, as you would assume, the student was supported.

In this case, being supported involved sitting at an old-fashioned study carol and filling out a slip of paper detailing your crime. The school librarian would watch you disapprovingly, and after ten minutes you were sent back to class to have the paper signed by your teacher. That night, your parent would sign the paper. Then you would bring it back to school, where your teacher would probably throw it away.

This process was meant to make you feel so deeply ashamed that you would never do anything so terrible ever again.

But, if for some reason the devil had made camp in your soul and you were impervious to disgrace thus earning more visits to the support room for hilarious musical antics, “Lunch in Solitude” was the next step. [Exactly what it sounds like, only worded more pretentiously.] Believe me, after eating your PB&J alone in a classroom, you'd be begging for mercy.

Buuuuut, if for some reason you continued to act out and embarrass your Lord and Savior by getting sent to the support room and assigned multiple lunch-in-solitudes, then . . . they were out of ideas. Case closed. You were a hopeless, godless, heathen. And SO popular.

Just like Whoopi.