Back when I was a boy, part 3

Public school back when I was a boy was totally different than today’s embarrassment. In the early grades, we learned the basics of the Three R’s – reading, riting and rethmatic. We also were subject to paddling if we acted up. My third grade teacher was good at palm paddling. Proper palm padding technique was as follows: 1. Palm up, 2. Grab the fingers and arch the palm upward, 3. Smack that palm several times with a wood ruler. Such always got my attention. It altered my unacceptable behavior and certainly did not warp my id. My parents were ok with Mrs. Cooper’s behavior towards my sometimes bad attitude. Instead of threatening to sue the school board and have dear Mrs. Cooper fired, they asked her to do whatever she deemed necessary to keep my attention. Whatever I got at school, I got more at home that night.


Schools back then were neighborhood schools. They served a certain area of the city. One could easily walk to and from school. In the metropolitan cities, there were no school buses because there was no forced desegregation. One attended his or her neighborhood school. From first grade through high school, I never had a Black schoolmate. The South was segregated which meant “separate but equal”. Separate they were, equal they were not.

I was never a star student. I would say I was average. I loved lunch, recess and math. I learned some things out of fear. I feared my teacher. I feared my Dad and my Mom taught me that I had better fear God and that God definitely did not like slackers. That was fine. Learning by fear is better than not at all, right?

In junior high school, I became aware of girls. I was shy and the prettier they were, the more intimidated I was. I always thought girls, especially the pretty ones, were perfect. They would never use four-letter words and certainly never give anyone the ‘bird”. Well I learned I was wrong on both counts.

One started to attend parties in junior high school. The one's where for the first hour the girls were on one side of the room and us guys on the other side. There was always one particular one who got my eye. I wanted to dance with her. I desperately wanted to hold her hand. But the coward I was came through and I acted as though I was not at all interested in girls.

I had a friend, Thomas, who was just the opposite. He was aggressive with the ladies. He even kissed at least one of them before the night was over. He was not at all shy or intimidated by girls and they seemed to be more interested in him than certainly me. The seventh grade was definitely frustrating when it came to girls.

I loved sports and the seventh grade was my introduction to real football. In the earlier years, we played sandlot football in a field behind our house. No protective gear but tackle football. Lots of cuts and bruises in those days. Thes were scares that made is proud though.

My mother almost messed me up though. When I was in the fifth grade, she decided I needed some culture. Music lessons were in my future. She let me choose what instrument I would play. I chose the trumpet because it looked far more macho to me than the piano or violin. I took lessons all one summer. It was not as bad as I thought it would be. After six weeks my instructor informed me that he had several other students and he had planned a recital for all of us in two weeks. I was to pick a tune I thought I could easily play in front of all the parents. How could I get sick in two weeks. The week before the recital I asked one of my friends to sock me in the mouth hard enough to put my lips out of commition for at least a week. He refused because my mom had invited him to attend the recital. He was my only friend who even knew I was taking lessons and he would be there to giggle at my attempt to get through my part.