Maybe my misjudgment is off, but in reviewing physical contact with teachers, no action I experienced as a student was uncalled for, and all amounted to what a former Louisiana principal often said when disciplining a wayward student. “When you’re dumb, you pay” he’d explain before passing sentence, an axiom I find almost universal, except in politics.
While watching a shaky cell phone video on a TV news program, one supposedly showing a teacher’s inappropriate physical action I thought perfectly justified under the circumstances, it occurred to me that I’d been grabbed by the throat three different times by three different CCS teachers. Each one had more than ample justification. I don’t know if this is a record, but I’ll establish a baseline anyway just for future reference and welcome comparisons. Most seriously now and much more important, all of the following incidents imparted critically important lessons quickly and permanently for free, a real bargain any way I look at it today.
In so-called modern times, physical application of force in schools is almost instantly viewed as wrong, but I’ve grown to believe, especially with out of control boys, if the force does not injure and the need and reasoning valid, old style consequences are actually better and beneficial. To be clear, I’m not advocating corporal punishment which I’ve always viewed as wrong, but the application of power in the face of direct rebellion to protect the environment and the student. I feel perfectly comfortable in this assessment because I now know I learned valuable life life lessons while not being harmed in the slightest. My case history follows.
The late Carson Fuller leads the pack for the most remarkable throat grab in my direct experience, definitely a 9.9 on the 10-point shock-o-meter and a straight up 10 for style. I was completely unharmed, but Coach did make it most clear he could have snapped my neck quite easily had that been his intention. I was and remain in absolute awe of his power. Coach picked me up off the gym floor by my neck and then held me briefly with one powerful hand. More than fifty years later, I can still feel Coach’s fingers and see two most piercing eyes through thick glasses. Coach told this puppy wordlessly but most clearly that it was time to stop gross misbehavior, and I did, instantly.
I use the puppy reference for good reason. Next time you’re around mama dog with her puppies, watch what mom does when one of her pups needs correction. Often she grabs it by the throat and pins the pup down until junior gets the message. Sometimes she shakes the pup a bit by the scruff of its neck. Neither action does the slightest damage.
So many times actions do indeed speak much louder than words and are far more effective. Especially since I often didn’t listen to anybody when this was extremely crucial, the puppy treatment, I think many years after the fact, was the best option possible. I was far from alone having this most correctable disability, and more than occasionally wonder if more boys had experienced what I did as a dumb kid if they might have made out better in life, the real objective of any education.
For those of you who didn’t know Coach Fuller, it’s most important to say he was one of the nicest guys on the planet and extremely hard to anger. For a while, we lived directly across from the Fullers on East Main Street where I first learned the entire family was composed of kind and intelligent people. Coach Fuller didn’t want to hurt me or take retribution. His goal was to stop a bad situation before it grew completely out of hand and also demonstrate who the boss was and why he was so appointed. He did all this in less than 30 seconds. It was the right action at precisely the right time and the effect was long lasting. Personally, I call this great teaching.
Unfortunately, I missed Coach Fuller’s earlier years when he led many championship teams and only knew him in his final years at CCS as a PE teacher. Idiots like me often clowned around in PE and took advantage of a man who was by nature patient and forgiving, to a point, which I crossed only once.
I believe I was in the seventh grade and somewhere around 100 pounds. I’d been performing on a trampoline before gym class started and was being, in Mrs. Hudson’s immortal words I’ve often quoted and will once again, “rude, crude, uncouth and unattractive.” Coach wasn’t prone to being that verbal though and simply demanded I get off the trampoline and come over to where he stood by a doorway leading into the gym
I sauntered slowly over to Coach using my best bad guy posture and stood defiantly before him. Coach said something to me I don’t remember; I said something back I also don’t remember, probably because it was so embarrassingly stupid my brain cells block recall. The next thing I knew my feet were off the gym floor. This I remember as if it happened five minutes ago, again, the mark of a great lesson.
Fifty years later I can almost count the many hairs on Coach Fuller’s massive forearm. I looked down it and into the face of a man I instantly knew I never wanted to provoke again. Even as a senior citizen, and he was at the time of this exchange, Coach Fuller was in excellent physical shape and more than strong enough to hold my weight by his extended arm. Boy, was I ever impressed! Never again would I tug on Superman’s cape.
Ron Doyle comes in a close second. I’m not sure how long Mr. Doyle taught at Cambridge, I don’t think for very long, but do know he took over and reversed one of the most difficult situations any educator can face in a classroom, midcourse correction of a completely out of control environment.
I’m nearly certain Mr. Doyle was hired for his many attributes, one being that he was more than a bit physically imposing, a former collegiate football player I believe. I’ve already written about the chaotic classroom in “Teacher’s Last Day” so won’t go into further detail here, and will just say absolutely that no learning took place until Mr. Doyle came to the rescue after his predecessor was either fired or quit midterm.
Again, I retain only vague memory of the circumstances, but can clearly remember sitting in the front row by the classroom doorway next to the wall. My primary weapon, and much more frequent handicap, a wise guy mouth, prompted this life lesson, but my precise words are long forgotten. What’s important is that, once again, my throat was held by a mighty hand, and this time it pinned me against the wall while still seated.
“You didn’t really mean that did you?” Mr. Doyle inquired calmly as the boa constrictor tightened, still not harming me in the least, but most definitely letting me know he could in a fraction of a second. “No sir,” I squeaked. “OK, then,” Mr. Doyle responded nonchalantly and then proceeded to teach our class as if nothing had happened. But it had, and in a very significant way. Tombstone quickly turned into an orderly and productive classroom, the rest of the gunslingers also knowing our new quick-draw sheriff had arrived and further gunplay unwise.
Regardless, I’m positive both of the actions I just described are no longer allowed in any public school, but will go to my grave thinking that, under the right circumstances with the right people, most appropriate and extremely effective in teaching valuable lessons. Equally true and most important, neither teacher did any harm, and this is a critical distinction. I’m not advocating this universally mind you, just showing two examples that quickly corrected grossly inappropriate behavior at minimal interruption to the learning environment. I wasn’t assaulted and instead being vividly shown what the real world was like for idiots. In journalism classes I taught, I’d frequently preach to student writers “show don’t tell” and this perfectly describes the point.
Some teachers, like Mr. Narkiewicz I wrote about previously, often did the same thing with words having just as much force, but we all have different styles and strengths we must utilize in classrooms, some work better than others for different individuals. Also relevant, in both of these instances, if I’d been a student today, I would be suspended, at least, and then missed out on days of valuable instruction. I don’t find this modern alternative superior in any respect under the circumstances just explained. I wasn’t excluded or hurt, just promptly corrected and brought into compliance.
Unfortunately, it’s equally true that Coach Fuller and Mr. Doyle would be sanctioned today for swift action that did much good and absolutely no harm. There are fine lines here I know, but as the direct recipient of the actions of these teachers I know with absolute certainly what they did was good for me and the school at large.
Only the last throat grab I’d say was somewhat questionable and definitely the product of a teacher losing self control, which I don’t believe was the case in the first two incidents where I was simply being shown, quite dramatically, that a boy had darn well better respect his superiors and could suffer terribly if this lesson wasn’t learned soon. Sadly, today the lesson often isn’t, especially in homes with an absent father, and the products of our failure to teach respect and appropriate behavior fill our prisons and many times cemeteries.
Lots of people who wind up dead or incarcerated after encounters with law enforcement simply never learned the lessons I finally did. I never grabbed any of my students by the throat, but I did teach a lot of “tough guys” why it was important to generally use only two words with any police officer, “yes sir or no sir,” whenever one or the other showed complete compliance and contrition. I’d like to think I prevented a number of bad scenes from getting much worse and have no doubts many teachers were responsible for teaching me when it was time to just shut up and do as I was told without question. It was a hard lesson to learn because the density of my cranium required penetrating force before reason could finally take over.
As for my final CCS throat grab, a few choice words sparked the fire, and this time a small lump on the back of my head from a hallway wall. I won’t name the area as this could reveal the teacher involved and I’ve no desire to do this as the situation isn’t nearly as clear cut and absolutely correct as the first two. Still, I had no desire to backtalk this teacher again, so I’ll leave it at that.
I guess I should say my experiences with throat grabs extend way back to before I was old enough to annoy teachers. My first came thanks to Uncle Phil who was volunteering as a church usher. I decided somewhere in the middle of our pastor’s sermon that his monotone message just didn’t come close to the cartoon shows I loved, so I decided to make a quick exit by crawling under the pews from somewhere near the front of church to pop out behind the last pew. When my head popped out, Uncle Phil grabbed me. He didn’t say a word, and didn’t need to either.
Well that’s it for this flash from the CCS past. I need to grab something to drink right now. For some reason, my throat’s a little sore.