Political correctness has enervated society’s psyche, schools don’t deter bad behavior with corporal punishment, fearing it may encroach upon students’ self-esteem and comfort zone
Now that political correctness has enervated society’s psyche, schools don’t deter bad behavior with corporal punishment, fearing it may encroach upon students’ self-esteem and comfort zone, and rely instead on police protection and metal detectors. Neither was necessary at my school, where swift, painful deterrence was administered, with no regard for self-esteem, comfort zone, or derrière.
My friend Kenny Warren, a mechanic, says just the thought of corporal punishment at the hands of his father deterred him from many bouts of misbehaving … except one. Recently, while tuning my truck, he told me the story.
“Dad warned me never to ride Nelly, my friend Randy’s Shetland pony, but the temptation was too great. One warm spring day, we had a swell time riding her, and I figured I’d gotten away with disobedience … until I returned to the patch of woods where I’d hidden my bicycle. There stood Dad, stripping leaves and twigs off a switch.
“‘Boy, it’ll hurt me less to whip myself than you,’ he said, “and with that he pulled up his britches and swatted his calf until red swollen welts crisscrossed it. ‘Disobey me again and your behind will look like that.’
“Spring sashayed into summer and we started going to the swimming hole on St. John creek. For us boys, there was an occasional deterrent to enjoying blissful bouts of skinny-dipping: Francine. Two feet taller than the rest of us and totally fearless, she was a rail-thin, raw-boned, fierce-eyed terror who could outrun, outfight, and outsmart any boy.
“As leader of a band of unruly urchins known as the St. John Amazons, she called herself ‘Francine, the lean, mean teen Amazon queen,’ and liked nothing better than standing watch while the lesser Amazons swam, hoping to catch us boys trying to spy on her unclad club members.
“Like any normal boy, I was curious to see if females really were different from males and decided to spy on the Amazons a-bathing. I feared Francine and Dad, who’d punish me severely for such vile voyeurism, and, like all the other kids, I was outright terrified of old man Bailey’s bellicose Brahman bull, known by all as Hugo Humpback. Even Francine was afraid of that bull, who grazed in a barbed-wire enclosed pasture, one corner of which was near the swimming hole.
“I planned to follow the fence through the woods until I was close enough to see the girls without them seeing me. Hugo wouldn’t tangle with the fence, and I wouldn’t have to worry about Francine because she never got anywhere near Hugo’s turf. As for Dad, I decided to take my chances.
“Just about the time I got close enough to hear the gals giggling, I heard something behind me: Dad’s footsteps! I was trapped between Hugo, Francine, and Dad.”
As Kenny closed my truck’s hood, I asked, “What did you do?”
“Talk about deterrence! That switching lasted the rest of my growing-up years. I never did see them nekkid girls.”
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
