A Good Ass Whoopin

Yeah..that's what they gave you in the South when I was growing up...in school that is! I went to school in Panama City, Florida from first grade to half of third grade, and when you got in trouble you got sent to the principal's office and you got whooped on the butt with a big wooden paddle (like the kind they use in fraternities and sororities to put their Greek letters on:









Yeah...like that!) Fortunately, I never got whooped. I came very close. This creepy little boy named Shane constantly bothered me everyday. One day I got pissed off and, for some bizarre reason, took it out on his sidekick, Timothy, by tearing up his classwork. Well, our teacher, Mrs. Garvin, who by the way was a hunchback (no, I'm not kidding) (or maybe it was Mrs. Mack in second grade...I'm confused now) sent us all to the principal's office. Fortunately, the principal asked us if we thought we should get paddled and our protests saved our little heinies.

It's funny, but everytime I tell someone about this blast from the past I'm greeted by dropped jaws, wide eyes, and loud gasps. "Oh, you must've gone to a Catholic school," they say. Umm..no. Good ol' public school. "My God! What do you think of that? Did it scar you emotionally?" Uhh...no. In fact, I never thought much about it until I started getting these reactions. Things were different back then. You were a bad kid then there were consequences. No one thought anything of it. I blame it on good ole' Southern discipline. (?)

Anyways, to shock y'all further...we also had to say grace (pray) together before we went to lunch.