Telling lies, playing with matches, and arriving home late from school (and then lying about it) got me in trouble more than anything else. I hated the whippings I got. Even in retrospect, I view those whippings as having been overbearing. Yet, whippings were par for common parenting in every household I knew. Sometimes, it was with a belt. Sometimes a wooden kitchen spoon. Sometimes, it was one of those "Bolo Paddle" toys -- you know that wooden paddle toy with the rubber ball attached to it with a long rubber string.
A few times, I got a whipping because I was late arriving home from school for lunch. Yea, lunch. In Moose Creek, Alaska, I went to a school that was made up of three trailers each housing two grades taught by one teacher. We all went home for lunch and then returned to finish the school day. Wouldn't you know it? They installed three tetherball poles on the school playground, and boy oh boy did I like to play tetherball, even when I was playing all by myself. That was always more important than lunch. One time, Mom met me at the door with a yard stick in her hand as I was coming in late. Daddy, though, would always wait until bedtime, when I was in my PJ's, you know how thin they can be, to give me about five licks or so (I was crying too much to keep count). God, I hoped he would forget on some nights while we were watching TV. One time, I was near convinced that he did forget, but wouldn't you know it, my sister had to blow it! "Daddy, you going to give Scott his whippin'?" I guess that's what little sisters are for! .
I hated my third grade year at school mainly because I hated the teacher everyday from the getgo. On the first day of school she asked me, "You want another black eye?" I already had one due to a rock thrown at me by a kid on the playground near our apartment. I'll admit I simply was not interested in anything happening in that classroom. I didn't want to do the work. Just let me be! I'll sit at my desk and be in my own little world. But no! She was always on my case. She made us write "I shall have my work completed on time." twenty-five times for every assignment we didn't turn in. She kept count on the chalkboard, and I racked up hundreds. I tried to shorten the sentence to "I will do my work." but she would have none of that. She'd make us stay after school to finish our sentences. I never finished them, cause it was so late. School let out at four o'clock, and sometimes I was there until five-thirty. One time she used that as an example sentence during a spelling test. The word was "afternoon." Her sentence was, "Scott was here until five-thirty yesterday afternoon." All eyes were on me! God, I hated her!
We were living in Alaska on Eielson Air Force Base at the time. The year before, we lived in Moose Creek (I mentioned that above) which was a small village just down the road from the base. Anyway, we did the same go-home-for-lunch routine every school day. Snow started falling before Halloween, so for half of the school year the daily school rhythm was something like this. Get up. Get dressed with underwear covered by thermal shirt, long johns, thick socks on top of regular socks, and finally the regular clothes. Eat breakfast. Brush the teeth. Put lace-up boots on.
Put rubber boots on.
Put coat on.
Put knitted head cover and face mask on.
Put scarf on.
Put gloves on.
Put hood on.
Grab the book bag, and walk to school in the snow and cold wind.
Take off the coat,
gloves,
scarf,
mask,
and boots.
Stay at school until lunch time.
Put on rubber boots,
mask,
coat,
scarf,
and gloves.
Walk home. Take off the
gloves,
scarf,
coat,
mask,
and rubber boots.
Eat lunch. Put on the
boots,
coat,
mask,
scarf,
hood,
and gloves.
Walk to school. Stay at school until four o'clock (if you didn't have to write sentences or do some other school work). Put on the
rubber boots,
coat,
scarf,
mask,
and gloves.
Walk home in the snow and cold wind. Take off the
gloves,
mask,
scarf,
coat,
rubber boots,
and finally those lace up boots. We called them "Brogans."
Anyway, one day I arrived home late from school. It was after five-thirty. Mom and Dad asked why I was late. I said, "I stayed after school to help the teacher." I guess I didn't want to tell them that I had to write sentences because I hadn't done my school work (Somhow, they already knew I wasn't doing it). Well, Mom wrote me a note to take to the teacher. In it, she asked the teacher if it was true that I stayed after to help her. How did I know what the note said? I opened it and read it. The teacher never saw it. Why? Because I lost it on the way to school. Somehow, Mom managed to connect with the teacher by phone while I was staying after school again a few days later. How did I know that? That teacher came walking in the classroom door (I guess she had been in the office) laughing. "I was just talking with your mother. You're going to bed early for lying. LOL!" God, I hated her! I'm glad there was only a handful of other kids in the room. When I got home (after doing the put on everything and take it all off routine), I must've had that "I've been caught" look on my face. Wouldn't you know it? They (yea, they were both there within sight of the front door) had to ask (just one more time) for the truth. I was already crying before the first lick before bedtime.
On a humorous note, on another evening when I was my dad and I were scheduled to have another whipping session down in the basement (our apartment had three floors counting the basement), I was looking all sad and pitiful at the dinner table. Mom said something like, "Cheer up and maybe your dad will be a little gentle with you this time." Dad asked, "You wanna wait and get your whipping tomorrow?" Of course I said yes (hoping he'd forget about it. He didn't).
It was mostly my mother and father's decision that I repeat the third grade, still I hated that teacher. The following year, I tried to find her so I could tell her so. But, I guess she had moved on.
One day, the next year, I arrived home from school (not late though) to find Daddy vacuuming a cushion he was holding in his hand. It was one of those cushions that formed the seat of a swivel rocking chair. A few days before, I was playing with matches and the paper that I'd set on fire fell on the cushion and burned a few holes in it. Oops! No problem! Just turn the cushion over. Daddy asked me if I did it. I told him no. You can finish the rest of the story.
I will never agree that those whippings were not overbearing, but to be fair, Momma always made us birthday cakes. Daddy always brought presents home to us from his trips out of the country. He was in the US Air Force, so he went to Japan a few times while we lived in Alaska. They came to our school plays, our scout meetings, and found ways to get lots of presents under the Christmas tree each year (in later years Mom talked to me about how she'd go to the thrift store and piece so many occasions together). We went camping together. We went on vacations. We drove, camped, and saw sights all across the USA. They always provided us a home. We had all sorts of pets - dogs, cats, rabbits, chickens, ducks, ponies, horses, mice, turtles, hamsters, and goats. They bought us our first cars, and gave us all the support we could ever ask for even after we left home well into our adult lives. The whippings stopped after we got so old and so big. But, during that short time of our lives when we were getting them, they HURT!
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