Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

"There will be no more taking off coats," the recess lady screamed.

She blew her whistle shrilly for emphasis.

"There will be no more taking off coats if you can't remember where you put them!" she shouted and blew her whistle 10 times, just for good measure.

I was walking my dog by a local school during recess when I heard this exchange. I immediately took off my coat.

The more I look back on my experiences in elementary school, the more I think it was as much about teaching us how to behave as it was about teaching us intellectually.

Here are some of the things I learned in elementary school.

• If you chew gum in glass, you will wear it on your nose.
• Don't leave your milk unattended at lunch.
• Remembering where to stand in gym class is more important than how well you can catch.
• The paddle is not poison yet.

I learned this last bit of wisdom with the help of Mrs. Hoffman. She was feared as the school disciplinarian, an aging beauty with raven hair and bright red lips. Beautiful, but cold. Picture Joan Collins as a second grade teacher.

My friends and I were playing at recess. One of them had a crush on Eddie Bennett. Eddie was a quiet, red-haired boy who already towered a couple inches above the other boys and who had, my friend thought, adorable freckles. So she stole his hat.

My friends tossed it back and forth. I think the original goal was to make Eddie touch her, which he would have to do in order to get his hat back. But Eddie didn't seem to appreciate the subtle ulterior motives of this act, and tried with increasing desperation to retrieve his hat.

I had just been standing there watching, on the other side of a huge mud puddle. My friend decided to toss the hat to me, and just as I caught it, Eddie lunged for it and fell flat out into the puddle. This was the moment Mrs. Hoffman turned to look.

She blew her whistle. "Get over here right now!" she shouted.

I handed the hat to Eddie, who had brown water dripping from his face. "Sorry," I said and shrugged.

I knew I was in trouble and would have to follow Mrs. Hoffman inside for my punishment. I didn't blame my friends, because it wouldn't have helped. I would have only ended up with more things in my milk at lunch.

In my school, they had a really sadistic way of using paddles. Every teacher had a paddle, but they wouldn't use it on their own students. Instead, the kids had to go to somebody else's class and ask for their paddle. You'd be in the middle of reading lessons and a red-faced kid would come into the room and choke out between sobs, "Miss... Cicc... a... rell... i... may... I... bor... row... your... pad... dle?"

So I knew what was in store for me. I wasn't going inside to sit out recess.

I followed her into the room. It was empty. Mrs. Hoffman taught second grade and I was in fourth. I looked at the desks and thought how small they were, and felt a sudden burst of compassion for the poor, small children captive to her whims each day.

Her well-worn paddle lay on her desk. "Hand me that," she said.

I gingerly reached out my fingers and drew them back again. The paddle had holes in it.

"It's not poison yet!" she said.

So I swallowed, picked up the paddle and handed it to her.

"Turn around," she said. "Put your hands on the corkboard." The corkboard was decorated with turkeys made by students tracing around their hands. The turkeys were arranged in regimental order; many of them were grimacing instead of smiling. I placed my hands on top of two turkeys.

She smacked my bottom once, and tears welled up. She did it again, a third time, a fourth. I lost count, concentrating on not crying. I think that in addition to holes, the paddle also had splinters... and spikes.

And she wondered why none of the kids ever gave her Christmas presents.

Besides introducing me to the dark world of elementary school S&M, what did I learn from this experience? That I should treat other students with respect? That I should "just say no" to playground roughhousing? That even if you're punished unfairly to save your friends, they don't bother to thank you?

No, I learned that the paddle's not poison until Mrs. Hoffman touches it. I learned to fear and respect her power.

And that, I'm certain, is just what she wanted me to learn.

Moral:
Playing keep-away is a really stupid way to get a guy to like you.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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