Seven hundred and sixty years after St. Domenic founded the religious order that was to bear his name, I graduated from St. Pius Dominican Grammar School in Providence, Rhode Island. Is that a miracle? Was my beloved New York Football Giants’ victory in Superbowl XLII a miracle? I’ll leave those considerations, dear reader, in your more-than-capable hands. As for me, I went to St. Pius from 1954 to 1962. I was taught by eight Dominican nuns. I learned to read and write. This is the story of those years, as I remember them, with any number of digressions and side stories as time and space allow. From clapping erasers, to Catholic arithmetic, to diagramming sentences, to milk money, to serving Mass and dropping Communions, to uniforms and May Processions and Gregorian Chant—to putting on school plays that make it impossible for me ever to run for President—this is the saga of my eight years and those eight women who shaped my life.