Yesterday was one day that I didn’t mind hearing Morticia crying to me… amazingly enough…

She had good cause to, actually. For about a week or so, her mother had been having issues with confusion. One might think that she’s at the beginning stages of dementia, but it seems the cause is simpler (for the moment, anyway). It’s been horribly hot the past 5 or 6 days and her mother is on a low sodium diet, fluid restrictions and a diuretic. She was dehydrated so badly, she didn’t recognize Morticia, which upset her and she cried to me. That’s a good reason to cry…

She spent most of the day at the emergency room. Her mom was kept overnight; she ‘s doing okay for now. But what I thought was interesting was that Morticia told me about this old man who came in with his son while they were in the waiting room. She overheard the man tell the nurse his name and, as soon as she said it, I recognized it, too. It was the name of our elementary school principal!

Yes, that nasty old bastard is still alive…

My first words to Morticia were, “I thought he was dead!” Nope, still alive and kicking, still getting around pretty good on his own for 93!!! As soon as I got off the phone with her, I immediately called my mother and my sister to tell them who Morticia had run into. Not surprising, they both said, “I thought he was dead!” So that should give you a clue… My sister and I reminisced over some weird stories that we can now look back on and laugh about. But, back then, they really weren’t funny at all…

I only had to go to his office once and it was only to deliver something for my teacher. I tried to get out of it, but that wasn’t happening. She sent me down to the principal’s office with some papers and I was scared out of my mind. I remember looking at the secretary my mother knew well (who also knew me well) with pleading, terrified eyes when she told me I could go into his office to deliver the papers. She was a kind woman who reassured me it was okay, he wasn’t going to get mad. I wasn’t so sure about that… By the time I walked through his door, I was sweating like a whore in church! It didn’t matter that I knew I was only there as a delivery girl and had not gotten into any trouble (none that I was caught for; I wasn’t a real troublemaker until high school). I was there, standing before his desk, looking at that stern, dour face. I handed him the papers with shaky hands and voice as I told him who they were from. He took them, grumbled a thank you and I hot-footed it the fuck out of there! Still one of the scariest moments of my life to this day…

You may not believe I never got in trouble then, but I really didn’t. As a matter of fact, I don’t know why anyone got in trouble…

Even when I was a kid, I think we all believed the principal was literally the spawn of Satan himself. He ruled with an iron fist. If he came into a noisy cafeteria (which most in elementary school are), he would yell in a booming, terrifying voice that could be heard over the noise. I’m still not sure how he did that… I think we all expected him to breathe fire as well… Eventually, it got to the point where, as soon as he walked into the cafeteria, it fell immediately so silent that you could have heard a pin drop. I mean that quite literally… Then we would all sit there like statues, afraid to move until he left. Trust me, you didn’t want to give him a reason to haul your ass to his office… I had heard tales and had seen it for myself the only time I was in his office. Hanging on the wall next to his desk was the thickest wooden paddle you ever saw. And he used it…

Before you get too horrified, you have to understand the times. When I began school there, it was… I hesitate to tell you… It was the late 70s, okay? This was back when the principal was within his rights to paddle your ass if it was warranted. Teachers as well. In fact, I recall clearly one of my first few days of kindergarten. My sister, five years my elder, had stuck by me as we walked into school, me in front of her. In front of me was one of the baddest kids in town… He purposely slammed the big, heavy glass door and hit my entire face. It hurt like a bitch… I’m pretty sure I cried… Anyway, my sister was incensed. She grabbed my hand, drug me over to one of the sweetest teachers I’ve ever met (I had him in 6th grade, which is what he taught). My sister told him what happened. He was pissed… Everyone knew this family and knew all the kids were bad-ass assholes. And I stood there, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as the teacher grabbed this kid (who was almost as big) and jacked his ass up against the wall, flipping shit on him. He was my hero that day.

I’m sure some of you younger readers are in horror right now. But that’s just how it was back in the day before a bunch of whiny parents started bitching about it and punishment such as these examples were not allowed…

Don’t think I’m a ghoul or a sadist, but I think that was the worst mistake ever made… Don’t forget, I live in the hood. A lot of the people here are assholes who pop out kids for welfare money. They don’t watch their kids, don’t punish their kids… I’ve even known good people who didn’t believe in punishment. You know what happens to kids with parents like that? They end up like the one kid in my hood. When he was 10, he beat the living fuck out of some poor kid on the playground. The teachers weren’t allowed to grab either kid or they’d be fired. All they could do was blow a whistle… The receiver of the beating was told to go back to class until one student took him to the nurse. Good thing… The kid had a black eye, broken arm and broken leg. The kid who took him got punished for doing the right thing…

Had my old principal been running the show then, that wouldn’t have happened that way…

I just don’t understand people today… Even those who are good people and believe that foregoing punishment is best. I suppose they never heard of “spare the rod and spoil the child”… It’s true, actually. I got punished as a kid… A spanking on a bare ass, a wooden spoon or flyswatter across my ass… I turned out okay. I’m not a criminal or violent. Kids need structure and they look to their parents for it. If the parents don’t give a fuck, well… you get little 10 year old criminals…

I remember years back when one of my closer friends from high school had a son. She was always a very sweet person, but she apparently didn’t believe in discipline. I was asked to babysit her son so she could go take a few extra college classes. I agreed, trying to be helpful. She then looked around my place, at the breakable items, and told me I’d have to put all of it away because he liked to break things. I told her flat out no, he would learn not to touch things that weren’t his. He got spanking at my house. He was afraid to come stay with me because of that, but he did ruin and break a few things. I don’t tolerate that shit… Under my watch, you don’t act like a feral kid who was raised by wolves or, in this case, stupid parents.

I’m sure a lot of you are thinking my views are “old fashioned”. And maybe they are… But the thing is, those methods worked. I’m not saying it’s okay to beat the fuck out of your kid or torture them, but a spanking now and again when warranted won’t kill them and will help prevent them from being miniature criminals like that kid in my hood who severely injured an innocent kid on the playground. It will keep them from becoming like another kid in my neighborhood who was caught chucking bricks at some poor girl’s head and then blamed it on one of the few good kids here. So was my principal wrong? I don’t know…

Still, even though my old principal was a scary guy, it’s kind of amazing he’s still alive and it was nostalgic to hear talk of him and to share stories with Morticia and my sister.

At the end of the day, scary as he was then, I can look back and think a bit more fondly of him and appreciate how he ran things.