A question arose during a recent discussion about declining performance and rising violence in public schools, and what to do.
“Special education,” answered one of the group’s members.
“It’s not called special education anymore,” someone corrected. “These days, it’s called somethin’ like Specialized Academic Instruction.”
“No-o-o,” groaned the first. “I’m talking about a special kind of educational tool that’s sadly missing from today’s classrooms.”
“I think he’s talking about the ‘board of education,’” I chimed in.
“The school board?” another asked.
I laughed. “Listen, problems in public education began when two things were removed from the classroom,” I said. “I don’t remember today’s issues arising years ago when we were in school up in Mount Pleasant. What I do remember is, when it came to learning and discipline, some of us just required, um … ‘additional training.’” At South Ward Elementary School, teachers such as Mrs. Page, Mrs. Beck, Mrs. Edwards or Mr. Mattingly delivered lessons from textbooks. But occasional deviations from the curriculum landed us in the principal’s office for that additional training.
“Tommy Milam and Leon Aldridge,” Mrs. Page announced one spring afternoon just before recess. “You boys remain with me when the bell rings.”
After the classroom emptied, she let us know that trying to disrupt the class behind her back would not be tolerated and we had just earned a trip to the principal’s office.
The principal, Mr. Whitaker, had his own board of education, aka “additional training” for unruly students.
“Boys, you know why you’re here,” he said, slowly removing his paddle from the desk drawer for us to see. “You are both smart young men, too smart to have behaved badly. I’m certain your parents would not be very proud of you right now.”
We politely agreed. Rather than the anticipated “Bend over and grab your ankles,” Mr. Whitaker then slapped his palm with the paddle, resulting in a loud pop that made us flinch.
“You boys think that if I let you go, you could go back to class and behave?”
We politely agreed again.
Regarding school conduct, my father and I had a special agreement. The deal was for every lick I got at school, I got one at home.
No questions asked, no excuses and my parents never stormed up to the school to give my teacher “what for.” Because we also agreed the teacher was always right.
As I got older, Dad and I amended our agreement — again, without my vote: That if I were ever arrested, he would not bail me out. Police Chief B.C. Sustaire would keep me overnight, and my father would deal with me at home after I was released.
Thankfully, we never tested that last part of the deal. By that time, I already understood the principles of respecting authority learned at school.
“Great story,” one of the group said with a laugh. “I bet I know what that other thing missing from school is — prayer.”
“Naw,” I said. “Granted, it was a mistake to remove it verbally. But silent prayer never left the classroom. — Just ask any student today on test day.”
