Well... She was a nun. Enough said.
We had a teacher in about, oh, first grade or so, who was quite literally a holy terror.
Take the oldest, wrinkliest old woman you've ever met. Make her rediculously well scrubbed and tidy.
Now, put her in a stupid looking dress.
There. I'll call her Ms. Wimple. Because I'm a geek.
Ms. Wimple, a former nun, taught us all- literally, ALL, even the non-Catholic ones, even the one Jewish boy (*), to pray. In Latin. And French. First grade, remember. About 10 prayers. AND PSALMS.
She would also make you sit with your hands in your desk, if you had one with a lift-up lid, if you misbehaved, which left painful marks from whatever you had on your desk, because there were sharp metal edges. And as if that wasn't bad enough, her definition of 'misbehaved' was NOT memorizing one of the 10 prayers/psalms/religious chants. And, by the end of the day in a classroom full of children, she was about as intelligible as Crazy Cat Lady from the Simpsons. (I see your Moleman and raise you a wandering vagrant. ) So... we ended up with minor permanent scarring both mental and physical.
But I still know the Pater Noster. In German.

(* We went to a rather lax Catholic school, by the way. They were trying to escape the whole 'rulers, schoolgirls, gym class' deal and failing miserably. And they made us wear grey, blue and mustard yellow skirts. Demons. DEMONS, I say. And that's why I'm not Catholic. (**)
(** No offense to Catholics... though I doubt you're on b3ta. Which would be kind of creepy. )

Apologies for length, girth, energy, acceleration and mass.
(ZooLurker is an angry chick with a mullet!, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 3:49, Reply)