On Corporal Punishment

While talking with my mom yesterday about the principal who paddled the six year old girl down in Hendry County, Florida, I was reminded of an incident when I was in 3rd grade and how she handled it.

My teacher that year was upset that while playing on a toy drum, that I ruptured the head of it; she took me to the office where I learned two new fancy words that day, 1. Chuck is "rambunctious;" 2. Chuck is "obstinate." Word #1 was in relation to the ruptured drum head and word #2, as she would explain to my mom who had to "come off her job," was in relation to my reply to her earlier request that school year that since I finished my assignments so quickly, that I should "help the other students with their assignments."

Now, I was not a rude child, but I do remember replying, "I'm not the teacher," to her request. I remember my hesitancy was due in large part to wanting to fit in and not having to swing on any friends who already teasingly referred to me as a "nerd." But I do remember the teacher turning several shades of red before marching back to her desk to take a sip of her Tab soda after I told her I wouldn't help her that day. Looking back, my refusal to assist, coupled with my talking "incessantly" (the first big word I learned back in first grade), and the ruptured drum head had my teacher too through with me.

Momma, as she reminded yesterday, was teaching English at a nearby junior high school at the time and running the gifted program, so when the teacher suggested in that conference that she believed me to be "rambunctious" and "obstinate," coupled with her recommendation that perhaps I needed to see a child psychologist, Momma--up to that point very patient--cut her off and, to use the modern phrase, "read her for filth." Teacher was dragged by mom for not realizing per my "cumulative folder" that I was "unchallenged by the work" and "bored." Mom demanded to know whether I had been rude or disrespectful when I said that I was not the teacher, and when the teacher said I was not but that she was still "taken aback," Momma told her that she shouldn't be because "Chuckie isn't the teacher, you are!" Shortly thereafter, the principal asked me to leave the room and the trio talked for what seemed like an eternity before momma emerged and took me home. From the very next day forward, I was given assignments sent down from the 5th and 6th grade teachers and when I finished those, I was allowed to go to the library to read for pleasure, which to me was Heaven on Earth.

Lesson:

1. I was not "beaten" by school authorities for destroying school property. The irony is that years later, when I became a percussionist at FAMU High, a ruptured drum head was a sign of putting in work and we used to hang them like big game trophies.

2. The teacher, an older white woman who started her teaching career when segregation was still in full effect, refused to relate to an intelligent little Black boy and quickly concluded that I needed psychological help instead of a greater academic challenge. I thank God for having a mom who knew the real and wasn't about to take no mess from a teacher who had no desire to engage or inspire me.

3. Corporal punishment in schools is outdated, dangerous, and in many jurisdictions, illegal. Methinks it is time to make it illegal across the board in America.