My Favorite Teachers

     For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know that my childhood was spent moving around from town to town resulting in attending many schools. There were good and bad aspects to all the moving around. I sometimes wish that I had experienced more stability in my youth. Yet at the same time I am thankful for the many experiences that came with moving so much and for the many friends that I made along the way.

     One of the downfalls was that I didn't become a very good student along the way. I never put my best effort into my studies. I always did well in school mainly because I was not really challenged. I don't think of myself as overly intelligent but I know that if I had truly applied myself I could have excelled. I suppose knowing that I would not be around long caused me to think I didn't need to give too much heed to my teachers.

     Don't get me wrong, I didn't rebel or anything. I wasn't disruptive and I didn't skip classes. I was always in attendance and I paid attention. But the homework was never a great priority. I did what I wanted to and it was always just enough. Always finished with about a 'B' in most classes. This kept me out of trouble with teachers and administrators. My parents never seemed too interested in what was going on unless there was a really bad grade so I didn't have to deal with that at home either.

    Every once in a while there was a teacher that I really liked or that challenged me somehow to apply myself without even knowing they were doing it. Liking a teacher is half of the battle, in my opinion. You put a pretty young teacher in front of a class who has a nice smile and a friendly personality and all the students, including the boys, will likely pay more attention. I had a teacher like that once in 4th grade at Homedale Elementary School. Ms. Neubauer. She was one of the nicest teachers I ever had. She was also the only one that I think I might have had a crush on too. Ok, there is no "might have". I definitely had a crush on Ms. Neubauer. I am sure I wasn't the only one. Her pretty blonde hair and blue eyes had captured the eye of every 4th grade boy in school.

     Ms. Neubauer's class was so fun. I remember always doing my best in her class. I know that I always wanted to impress her and there was nothing like getting praise in front of the class with her arm around your shoulder.

     Another teacher that seemed to bring out the best in me was Mrs. West in 2nd grade at Syringa Elementary in Pocatello. Mrs. West was amazing. Her class was so fun and she always made everyone in the class feel special. She used to show us her photographic memory and her speed reading skills. She seemed to know everything. We could ask her questions about anyone or anything and she could tell us all about it.

     Some teachers that I had, or should I say most of the teachers that I had were boring and uninteresting. I would fall asleep in some classes or lose myself in my imagination until the bell rang. I would dread going to these classes. Even if the subject might be of interest to me I just couldn't learn in that environment. Very few of the teachers brought an element of intrigue that would make us ask questions and want to know more.

    After I first moved back to Pocatello during my 7th grade year, one of the required classes at Alameda Jr. High that I was signed up for was Self-Esteem. I had never heard of a self-esteem class. Sounded weird to me. I thought maybe there were a bunch of odd kids with different challenges that would be in the class. Surprisingly I was wrong. Everyone in the class was just like me as far as I could tell. The teacher was Mr. Anderson. He was a tall and fairly good sized man. I was a little intimidated at first.

    The first day in Mr. Anderson's class he presented us with a scenario and an activity that to this day is the most memorable moment of my adolescent learning. Mr. Anderson provided our class with the most thought provoking lesson that took every student to the edge of their seat and fully interested and engaged in the activity.  He began by handing out a sheet of paper to each of the students. On the paper we found a person's name and below it an occupation, age, skill set, and health background. All of the girl students received a girl's character and all the boy's received a man's character. The character's ages ranged from young teens, about our age, to advanced elderly ages up in the 80's.

    Occupations ranged from dancers, teachers and professors to doctors, mechanics and farmers. Most of the characters were given a clean bill of health with a few exceptions like one of them had cancer.

     The activity we were given involved a great deal of thought and emotion. Mr. Anderson told us that there was one week left on earth before a nuclear explosion would cause life as we knew it to end. The local government had put a plan together that included the construction of a huge vault in the side of a mountain. This vault was built to withstand any nuclear type explosion and would keep any radiation out. It was made to sustain life for 1 year until the radiation levels had returned to normal on the outside. Inside the vault was food, water, tools, medicine and other necessities to sustain life for one year.

     The kicker was that the vault would only sustain life for 12 individuals. There were a total of 26 students in the class. For the next week we would be debating over which 12 of the 26 students would be allowed to enter into the vault. The rest would parish in the nuclear aftermath.

     For a bunch of 12 year-old 7th graders, this was quite the undertaking. Over the week that followed we would experience much turmoil and a roller-coaster of emotions as we considered our decisions.  It was amazing to see my classmates take their characters to heart and fight for the right to survive. Many discussions became heated as it seemed every argument to save someone was countered with a convincing reason not to.

     I was among a few of the boys who tried to be valiant heroes and volunteered to stay behind. But even we were argued about by those who saw the importance of our strength and abilities.

     It was amazing to see what became important over the week. Slowly we began to agree more and more and whittled our numbers down to the 12 we sought. The importance of procreation, trade skills, physical abilities and knowledge were all evaluated equally.

     On the final day there were tears shed as the final 12 were sent out of the classroom to "enter the vault". The other 14 stayed behind and the room was heavy with emotion. It was a life altering activity. We all came away with a better appreciation of the importance of all human life and for the importance of both genders and all occupations.

    As hard as it was, I loved that activity and I love Mr. Anderson for allowing us to share in that experience. It definitely improved my self-esteem.

    Today I get to spend my life with my favorite teacher of all times. She is my wife and she is one of the best teachers around. I think she has all of the things that caused me to want to learn by my favorite teachers. She is a knockout that I am sure all the 6th grade boys at Heritage Elementary School are eager to do their best for. She has the friendly personality that all the kids love and react to. She is willing to challenge them and allow them to think for themselves in ways that will impact their lives long term.

    I am thankful for the many teachers out there who do everything they can to inspire our children today. Especially those who can do it despite the government chains that bind them down and choke out their greatest strengths. It is you who will allow this great country to remain at the top led by those who were inspired in your classrooms.

To Spank or Not to Spank, That is the Question

Here is a topic that seems to really get some people fired up. Should we or should we not spank our kids? With all of the opinions surrounding Minnesota Viking’s running back, Adrian Peterson, it is something that I felt could use some discussion.

For those of you not familiar with Mr. Peterson’s situation, let me briefly break it down for you.

On May 18, 2014 Peterson disciplined his son after the boy pushed another one of Peterson's sons off of a motorbike video game. The Vikings running back used a switch (a thin branch or rod used for whipping) to discipline his child, resulting in bruises and lacerations on the boy's back, legs, arms and buttocks.

After the boy returns home to his mother in Minnesota, the bruises are discovered during a routine doctor's visit. The doctor says the injuries are consistent with child abuse.

Peterson did not deny anything and faced punishment from the NFL and later the criminal justice system. The latter of which he plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge. He remains suspended from the NFL.

Peterson claimed he was “disciplining” his child the way he himself was raised. He admitted that he had gone too far and never meant to harm his child in that way.

Now I don’t want to dive too deep into this situation but it does raise the question as to what discipline is acceptable and what is not. Obviously when there are lacerations and bruises, it falls into the not acceptable.

I have been listening to many debates over this on talk radio and sports talk radio. One commentator mentioned the differences in the part of the country that a person is raised which seems to make harsher discipline acceptable and normal. A person raised in the south like Alabama, Arkansas, Mississippi and other nearby areas are more likely to discipline their children more firmly using paddles, switches, etc. People in these areas have no problem seeing their neighbors disciplining their child in this manner.

However when you analyze people on the west coast or in the northeast you will find that it is absolutely forbidden to lay a hand on a child in any way.

So is one way better than the other? Is disciplining your child physically outdated and should it be removed from today’s society?
Let me offer my two cents and see if where you agree or disagree. (And I welcome all viewpoints.)

When I was growing up I remember spankings being pretty common. When one of my siblings or I had done something wrong we grew to expect a swat on our behind. Usually this involved the palm of one of my parent’s hands. On occasion a willow tree branch, pizza paddle, wooden spoon or hair brush was used.

My Grandma preferred a nice big pizza paddle. My brother’s and I used to do things just to see how fast she could acquire it from the kitchen. She would have us line up and bend over the sofa and she would take her best baseball swing. It hurt for a moment but usually the paddle would end up breaking and we would try to not let her see us laughing.

Once while my little brother Michael and I were jumping on the aforementioned sofa, my Grandpa was next to us rocking in his chair and reading the paper. He looked at us and gave us a warning. “You better stop before your Grandma sees you.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice that I had never heard before.  Before we could respond we heard the familiar sound of the paddle being lifted off of the hook in the kitchen. By the time we had jumped ourselves off of the couch, Grandma was making a b-line towards us with the paddle clenched in her hand.

Something was different this time. I couldn't quite figure out what it was. “Line up you little hellions!” she ordered. We assumed the position bent over exposing our derrieres. “You will stop jumping on my furniture!” she announced and took her best swing.

“WHAP!” I can’t explain the horror that I felt as I realized that something was different and was definitely not in my favor. By the time the pain seared throughout my backside a second swat was delivered. How had Grandma gotten so strong? How did that paddle not break? Before the thoughts were finished in my head I heard the sound of the paddle cracking against Michael’s own rear. I turned to watch as she took her second swing on him.

I quickly realized what had happened. Grandpa, always letting us do whatever we wanted, had gone and provided Grandma with a new weapon. I looked at him and he gave me a half smile that had “I warned you” all over it. I looked back at the paddle. Genius. Grandpa had drilled holes throughout the paddle face. Now the air passed through it as it was waved towards its target. A much faster, much harder impact was created.
Grandma stood over us with a smile, triumphant and gladiator like. I never jumped on her furniture again.

Now my mom had a whole other technique. Being inflicted with the horrible disease, Rheumatoid Arthritis, she was usually unable to inflict any physical punishment. Her hands were weak and her elbow joints were slowly freezing up. She was creative though and found that she could work a wig brush like the best of them. (I guess I was assuming there was some sort of wig brush competitions.)

Mom would take the wig brush, the type with the wire tines, and turn it so that the tine side was coming at us. Let me tell you, if you take a couple of those on the top of the head, you will stop doing whatever it is you’re not supposed to!

Dad, on the other hand, was a belt guy. Very effective as well. He was borderline professional in the way he could unlatch it and remove it from his waist. I swear that sometimes I would see his hands hit the latch and before I had fully turned to run I was already growing a welt on the back of a thigh.

When we were camping the belt usually stayed in place. Dad would pick out a nice willow or alder branch. We typically didn't get into much trouble camping as we didn't want to see that branch do anything besides cooking a hot-dog or marshmallow over the campfire.

Personally, I was not on the receiving end of too many spankings. I tried to stay out of trouble. Especially with my Dad. He had a way of looking at me a certain way and I would melt into a pile of mush. I hated that look.

I do remember one time that Dad skipped the look with me. July 10, 1976. I remember it like it was yesterday. I had been exploring in our garage and I came across a really cool racing set for Hot Wheels cars. It had a sweet track with loops and everything. My birthday was only a few days away and I knew it was for me. So I made the brilliant decision to go ahead and open it early. I played with it all day long. My Mom was not happy and she told me that Dad would be upset. I didn't listen.

Dad came home from work late that night. We were all sound asleep. Apparently the first thing that he saw when he came inside the house was the racing set all beautifully put together in the family room. He was not happy.

The first “spank” woke me and nearly killed me. It wasn't all that hard but my heart nearly stopped. By the third swat I was quite aware of my surroundings but it wasn't until the fifth or sixth that I grasped what was happening.  As tears flowed down my face and my posterior was searing I realized he had stopped. I looked at him through the blur in my tears. There I saw the look and it hurt more than any of the spankings.

I tell some people these stories and they laugh. I laugh too. I find humor in the mischief that I caused and in the way my parents tried to discourage my actions. Other people are horrified and saddened at the “abuse” that I received.

Now that I have been a parent for 19 years I have a different perspective. I see my children misbehave and now I have to figure out the best ways to discipline them. I admit that I have spanked my kids. I've never used a foreign object but I have threatened it for sure. The belt has been very effective for me. Never once came in contact with my kids but as I have removed it from my waist as quick as my Dad before me, I fold it over and grabbing both ends snap it together creating a loud cracking sound. My kids were so scared of the sound that I never had to follow through with the threat.

I have mastered my Dad’s famous look too. I love using that. There is something very satisfactory in looking at my child and seeing them realize the mistake they made and the disappointment they created.

I often would ask my kids “Who wants a beating?” and they would all in unison yell “Me, me, I do!” Mainly because my beatings consisted of tossing them around on the bed or among pillows and then tickling the laugh out of them. I used to get nervous that one of them would tell one of their friends at school about out their Dad “beats” them and I would be getting a call from social services!
So what is my opinion? I think parents should have the right to discipline how they see fit as long as there is no real harm inflicted on the child. In today’s society, I feel, there is a lack of discipline and accountability for today’s youth. I believe this has led to children being more and more disrespectful to parents, teachers and other authority figures.

I hear the stories my wife tells me about students at the schools she has taught in and the things that they would say to her. I cannot imagine what would have happened to me or one of my classmates had we said the things they say. Early in my school years teachers were still sporting paddles and yardsticks at the front of the classroom. Teachers would swat a kid or crack them across the knuckles right in front of the rest of the students in class. And you definitely didn't want to get sent to the principal’s office!

I’m not saying we should revert back to those days but there was something to be said for the discipline then. I don’t remember there being too many individuals getting out of line.
If there is no punishment or accountability for the crime then there is no reason for a child to think that there is anything wrong with what they are doing.

Even in sports and other activities that we encourage our kids to participate in has changed. Today a child receives a reward for just participating. Doesn't matter whether they win or lose. I don’t understand this at all. This is not how it works in the real world. Unless you join one of the many outdated unions. Today if you are not trying your best to succeed and produce then you are not going to have a job. Unless of course you count the government welfare system but don’t get me started on that.

I went to my daughter’s basketball game the other night and the announcer told everyone that they could not use any artificial noise makers. I thought that was a bit strange but then during the game as I tried to yell during the opposing team’s free throws I was quickly chastised and looked upon like I had the plague.

What college or professional sport will you see the away team’s players shooting free throws and the entire arena is silent? Why is it different in high school?

It’s like we cannot let our children experience failure and even if they do we label it as something else.

Imagine our great country without the rule of law. Imagine how our society would fall apart if we didn't discipline those that break the law. It’s already bad enough in some places even with the law enforced. Imagine if it wasn't.

So I say discipline away. Discipline your way. Don’t hurt them but make it clear that they have made a mistake and there are consequences.

I love my kids. Even when I am punishing them. I was punished often. Yet I know my parents loved me. Not very often did I receive discipline for something when I wasn't guilty.  I jumped on the sofa. I mouthed off to my mother. I got into the racing set. Each time I was quickly dealt with. Each time I remembered the action and the consequence. I learned quickly and I sought out activities that didn't result in a spanking.

Hmmm. That is probably what my parents were trying to accomplish.