So where was I?
Oh yeah... the man with the hook and how young writers' minds get shaped into burgeoning excavators of darkness.
And yes, this is true. So, we had this principal with a prosthetic chrome hook for a hand. Now, I have no doubt that the man lost his arm in defense of freedom, liberty, capitalism, and everything else sacred to us.
That still doesn't change the fact that when he spanked us boys (because boys were the only ones who seemed to ever get spanked at school... mysteriously enough) he would hold the paddle, locked in his hook.
If I told you that wasn't the bad part, you might think I was making this up.
But it wasn't.
When he did spank kids... er... boys, he would perform the ritual in the middle of the school's hallway, and they would make all the boys from all the classrooms come out and stand quietly and watch.
That's how it happened.
Nowadays, at schools, it's like you need to have your attorney file legal briefs with parents if you reprimand a student for texting in class.
But not back in the days when my generation used up all the world's supply of fun, fun, fun!!!
So, at my little school, if you were a boy, you tended to either grow up to become a sociopath or a novelist.
Go figure.
5 comments:
Why is it either or? Why can't I be a sociopath AND a novelist?
Wait. Don't answer that.
Our Principal, Mr. Miller (yes, I am naming names) had a paddle. Well, he did until he spanked David _____(not naming names here) with it and it broke in half!
It was one of those days that will live in infamy. There was almost a kid riot.
I only went to the office once....and it totally wasn't my fault that I kicked Derrick in the head with my left boot. He was standing too close to the swing. (Boys who stand too close to the swings to watch girls' skirts fly up deserve it if they get a boot to the head...just sayin.
The world is so unwaveringly cruel to boys like me, David, and Derrick.
Got paddled in American schools and slapped right across the face in French schools. Never much cared -- I usually had it coming.
While I was teaching in Philadelphia, I knew many teachers ready to beat the students. But if you waited long enough (five minutes) the students beat each other up. I swear there had to be at least one fight a day. Insanity.
My mom's heavy handed Catholic upbringing kept her from hitting my sister and I. We both turned out just fine. My mother and I had other issues which I'm sure will find their way onto the page.
Most of my inspiration comes from all the trouble I used to get into (who's kidding, I'm still in all kinds of trouble) that went on undetected. I'm sure I would have been beaten if my transgressions were ever found out. Thank God for the lack of technology in the 80's and 90's.
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