For Catholics, All Saints Day (the day after Halloween) means spending the day in a state of solemnity to honor the saints.

For me, it means sleeping in an upright position in my high school’s gym. Or at least it did for part of my life.

I went to Catholic high school, and Nov. 1 meant shuffling into the gym (our “church”) with a thousand other girls – all hung over, still drunk, or like me just tired and apathetic – for required mass.

As long as I found a seat by a wall I could sleep against or an equally impious friend I could joke with, it wasn’t too bad.

Former Catholic school kids are all over campus. We’re often wearing remnants of our uniforms – usually our senior sweatshirts or gym shorts – and are still adjusting to this college life, where we’re forced to pick out real clothes in the morning and to practice good hygiene. Shaving and showering aren’t important when you go to a single-sex school.

We have talents that distinguish us from the rest of the Loyola population. Besides having the ability to sleep in strange positions, we seem to be skilled at note passing, cramming for tests, sneaking things into places and, for girls, decorating and baking.

I, personally, still have to suppress the urge to make friends cupcakes and poster-sized cards for their birthdays. I now realize that in the real world, baked goods and Crayola creations aren’t adequate gifts.

But the most telltale sign of a product of Catholic education is, ironically, his or her separation from the Church. After four years of strict, Catholic schooling, these students seem to take advantage of the religious freedom of college and forsake faith altogether.

It’s quite unfortunate, but can you blame us? For me, it was the retreats, ridiculous music, inaccurate abstinence-only education, videotapes of abortions and other Catholic public relations tactics that turned me off to the religion.

I’ve taken the typical route of the former Catholic school student. I no longer attend mass on a regular basis, and only pray because I’m superstitious. I always walk briskly past the Awakening Retreat table, in fear that they’ll smell my impiety and want to set me on fire.

But sometimes I feel like I’m missing outon something. I’ve met people at Loyola who are genuinely enamored by Catholicism, and certainly not because it was required in high school. But I still associate religion with homework, algebra and all of the other required, undesirable aspects of high school.

I hear that it’s something about having children that will make me want to live in the suburbs, drive a minivan, vote Republican, and most importantly, start practicing Catholicism again. I don’t subscribe to this belief. Especially since that is also the same stage in life where people tend to start wearing ill-fitting jeans and listening to Michael Bolton.

If I ever return to Catholicism, it’ll be on my own accord. It won’t be a family or fond memories of high school that will lead me back. Perhaps other reluctant Catholics and I will one day see the good in the religion that others see. Or maybe we’ll just continue to sleep through mass.