My First Day at School !

Heading to the gym in the early morning the other day I was listening to the radio. The news item had to do with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. An elderly female victim, with great emotion, was recalling a situation where she witnessed the severe strapping of another student by a teacher. There is no doubt that many of these poor children, taken from their home and parents and living in a unfamiliar environment, suffered greatly. Only those who experienced those schools know how difficult it must have been.

Anything in the wrong hands can easily turn to abuse even if the intentions were considered good at the time. Until recently it was believed that good behaviour and moral development of children required the rod or strap. Indeed, the strap was considered one of the teachers 'learning tools' well into the 1990's. Corporal punishment was finally abolished in Canada by the Supreme Court in 2004 - thank God!

I know from personal experience how devastating and destructive the use of a school strap can be, even for  the child who has the support of a good home and loving parents.

It was my very first day of school, September 1935. My older brother took me to the school and left me with the other Grade One students. It was an all boys school. During the morning recess that day I found myself in a large, gravel based school yard on the North side of the school building. I knew one other boy from my street who was starting school so I wandered among the mass of running, pushing, noisy and excited boys looking for him, but without success.

That old school had a large auditorium situated on the second floor. On the playground side of the building there was a large set of cement stairs leading up to a double fire exit door. Standing forlorn among the rambunctious boys I noticed a black double-pipe railing leading from the top of the steps to the gravel yard below. Since I knew no one and had nothing else to do, I cautiously climbed the stairs, all the way to the very top, and stood next to the closed doors. From that perch, looking through the twin rails of the bannister, I could see all the children milling about in the distant yard below me. Carefully I turned my back to the stairs, moved to the rail, cautiously raising my left leg over the top rail and prepared for what I hoped would be a sedate ride to the playground below.

I hung on for dear life and began my descent. It was exciting as I glided smoothly to the bottom of the steps below me. I was already planning a second run. However, before my little legs hit the solid ground I was roughly lifted off the rail and held by the scuff of my neck, my spindly legs dangling about a foot off the ground. A large balding and bespectacled man was holding me in the air. The whole school yard suddenly became still. As I twisted and turned I was set onto the ground. Still clinging to the back of my shirt, he forced me through the throng of milling and curious boys to the front of the school building. Then he dragged me up the steep steps into the hallway outside a classroom door. I had no idea what was happening.  I was in shock, embarrassed and totally confused as to why I was being publicly humiliated in front of the whole school on my very first day! I was taken into the empty classroom nearby, plunked on a little red stool facing the corner, and told to stay put!

The big man then picked up the hand bell from his desk, went to the window, shook the bell loudly proclaiming the end of morning recess. I hovered on my little red stool in the corner on the very edge of tears.

Suddenly, there was a rumble of feet as the huge grade eight boys came stamping back into their room to take their places in the row of desks. Although I was not able to turn around I could sense there was excitement and expectation in the air. The big boys settled into their desk seats and the big hulk of a man roughly took me by the arm and told me to stand beside his desk facing the class. He reached into a drawer and withdrew a large leather strap, similar the ones I saw being used by the barber to sharpen his straight razors. He ordered me to extend my hands, palms up, and he then began to slap each hand in turn.  I started to cry, suffering terrible embarrassment as both palms began to swell and turn rosy red. If I lowered them for a moment I was ordered, "Raise your hands."  When the strapping was complete I was made to sit again on  my little red stool at the corner by his desk.

I suffered there until noon and was then sent back to the Grade One classroom, hands swollen and cheeks still damp. From that moment on I hated school and teachers!  I did poorly in grade school and high school, but I found my 'salvation' in sports.

I never knew why I hated school so much during the next ten years. I had no choice and had to carry on because it was expected of me. Outside the classroom my life was normal, full and happy.  Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and was accepted into University. Obviously, I did not look forward to more school. But mirabile dictu, amazingly my miserable academic life took  a huge turn for the better. I somehow scrapped those long hidden effects of that first vicious beating and discovered the joy of learning.

Strange as it may seem I spent most of my working life in the  field of education  and I probably had an exceptional love and respect for every student who entered my classroom. But I never let go of my security blanket and took  every opportunity to play sports. I now know I never would have made it without that blessed escape.

There are always set backs and disappointments in life. Like most I have learned to adjust and to put the negative experiences behind me. Unconsciously, allowing that physical punishment to rule my academic life for so long was simply because I kept it a secret nor did I fully understand what was happening. Rose Kennedy once said, "Time heals all wounds." But they are never forgotten! I still remember the name of that damn principal!

And that's Dick's View of the World this Week