Occasionally the topic of school uniforms surfaces as a barometer of society.  School uniforms promote civility; they stifle creativity; they encourage better schoolwork by eliminating distractions; they save gazillions of dollars in clothing purchases by those pesky tweens; they narrow thinking to least-commmon denominators; and on . . . and on . . . and on.

Saint Paul's School in Butler, Pennsylvania in the 1950s and '60s was not a hotbed for this controversy.  The female students wore uniforms every blessed day - dress-down days hadn't yet been invented - while the boys were free to sport various colors of dress slacks and the ubiquitous white shirt. 

Our uniforms were navy blue and white - was there a ever a more saintly combination of colors? - and was comprised of a navy blue jumper with full skirt and a sash tied in the back, worn over a short-sleeved white blouse with a fairly wide rounded collar.  Emblazoned across the left side of the bib of the jumper - where a geek might have a pocket complete with pocket protector - was an embroidered diamond shape with the letters "SPS" inside.

The reference was obvious:  SPS, Saint Paul's School.  Right?  Well, during that time period, the school and associated church were ruled with an iron fist by Monsignor Spiegel.  He was short and stout, with a bit of a waddle to his walk (the effect was enhanced by the fact that you never saw his feet under his robes).  He may have looked odd and inspired childish laughter, but he was all business.  When you were confronted by Monsignor, you were quaking in your sturdy shoes and ankle socks!

We must have had about enough of this iron fist at some point, because we began to joke that "SPS" stood for "Spiegel's Private Slaves."  Oh yes, we were daring!  We weren't sure how long we'd have to be purified in Purgatory for such talk, but we were willing to risk it.

Today I encounter countless acronyms daily, sometimes joking with my boss that no one could possibly crack our code.  When someone needs financial paperwork done and can't remember the acronym for a particular form, we just call it an "LMNOP."  And on many of my acronym-filled days, I am reminded of Spiegel's Private Slaves, and enjoy a silent girlish giggle.  God bless Monsignor Spiegel!