In every classroom there are a couple of kids that cause trouble, I wasn’t one of them. Although I could be rambunctious, for the most part, I was one of those students that behaved and did what I was supposed to. I tried to be an honest, good, and kind person, and because I tried to be that way, I never really ran into any serious conflicts with my teachers, except for one time. It happened because I do possess a major character flaw. It is an urge to rebel against authority when I do not have any respect for the individual that was assuming that authority.
I first time I remember this rebellion getting me into trouble was when I was in the sixth grade and it happened in an unexpected place for me-a music class. Our elementary school curriculum included a music class where we sang songs, something I have enjoyed doing throughout my life.
I remember these music classes from my earliest grades, then because of the school’s overcrowding, it was held in what used to be the unwindowed kitchen in the ancient part of our elementary school. We would sing songs like “Eliza Jane,” “Old Dan Tucker,” and “My Darling Clementine,” ditties that would later be referred to as “folk” songs and old Negro spirituals like “Dry Bones” and “Joshua Fit The Battle of Jericho.”. Songbooks were passed out at the beginning of class, and we would sing along as the teacher played the piano as an accompaniment. I loved to sing and I looked forward to the class.
When I was in the sixth grade however things changed. Our music class had been moved to a wide windowed hallway that led to the old gym. That was an improvement, but what wasn’t an improvement was our new music teacher—Mrs. Alexander.
For some reason, I developed a powerful dislike for her. The reasons are now buried in the fog of the past. I do remember that she always smelled of tobacco smoke, but there must have been something more basic in either her teaching style or personality that caused me dislike her so much.
I once chalked my dislike of her on the green chalkboard in my home room before class started. I wrote, “Mrs Alexander is ingenious.” This was not an ingenious thing to write because my still developing vocabulary assumed that the prefix “in” always meant “not” like in the word “insensitive” (meaning “not” sensitive). I thought “ingenious” meant “not” a genius It was an embarrassing discovery when I learned that I had unwittingly written that Mrs. Alexander was very smart, when I meant to say the opposite.
Anyway, every time our class went to music, my dislike for Mrs. Alexander grew. Even at that age I possessed a sharp and sarcastic tongue and I began to use it during music class. One day, Mrs. Alexander had had enough of my barbs.
She marched me down the hallway to Mr. Mohr’s classroom for a paddling. In those days of corporal punishment, it was the realm of male teachers to dispense major physical punishments like spanking. Female teachers were relegated to lesser physical abuses like slapping you on the hand with a ruler.
Mr. Mohr had a paddle that hung in the closet. We sometimes caught glimpses of it when he hung up his coat. The older boys in the school enjoyed instilling fear in the younger boys by talking about the paddle. They nicknamed it the “Board of Education.”
It was 4 inches wide, about 18 inches long and made from a three-quarter inch thick piece of wood. It’s surface was randomly perforated with one-inch holes, drilled through, to allow the paddle to arc rapidly through the air without the resistance of air pressure.
Mr. Mohr was a young personable first year teacher, who everyone, including me, liked. He must have been briefed during his teacher education classes about the procedure of corporal punishment because he knew just what to do.
He removed the paddle from the hook in the closet, and then ordered me to bend over and grab my ankles. I did as he instructed and he began to swing The Board of Education and burning stings began to radiate from my posterior.
Over the years, my memory probably wanted to forget this unpleasant experience, so I don’t really remember how many times I was stuck. I don’t think I cried, but I remember being very embarrassed when it was all over and the rest of my class came back, all staring at me.
What was even worse was the reaction I got when I got home from school. Unlike today, when parents always take the side of their children in such cases, in those ancient days, parents always took the side of the teachers, and I was again shamed by the stern lecture I was given. I was probably also denied some activities I enjoyed, I don’t remember.
I don’t know what ever happened to Mrs. Alexander. I was relieved to discover she wasn’t there teaching the following year when I began the seventh grade. Despite the paddling, Mr. Mohr continued to be one of my favorite teachers and it was an unforgettably tragic day a couple of years later when we learned both he and his wife had been killed by a drunken driver in an automobile accident.
I know I deserved to be punished for the way I acted in Mrs. Alexander’s music class, but I never did believe in physically beating kids for their misbehavior. I admit the paddling did change my behavior in music class, I learned to keep my mouth shut and my personal feelings about Mrs. Alexander to myself, but the most effective punishment I received, occurred 15 years later when I became a teacher myself, and stood in front of a classroom of kids and full of frustration, had to deal with all of the discipline problems that occurred. It was then that I realized how difficult it is to be a teacher, and felt sincere remorse for my actions so many years earlier.
It made me regret my smart aleck rudeness to poor Mrs. Alexander, and I would apologize to her today if it was now possible.
My paintings can be seen at: davidmarchant.ca
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