1982
Joe Carlson elementary
Douglas Az.
Monday morning
Though the circumstances are foggy as to the reason for being in this predicament, there we were.
Like lambs before the slaughter, we did what boys do. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. Denial is a powerful emotion.
By the age of 9, I had already been in and out of seemingly dozens of schools. At a certain point I always ended up in these types of circumstances. You’re never anywhere long enough to develop friendships. So you tend to ”footloose” your way through adolescence.
Joey went in first. Cued by the office secretary. There was a brief calm in the air. I slowed my breathing, as to focus on the going’s on in the next room. I could here the low ruffles of the Principal’s deep voice in cadence. Almost as if he was building up to a crescendo. Much like that bible passage scene in pulp fiction. A noticeable silence, then it happened. WHAP!
“Ouch!!”
A second strike, again followed by a scream.
And the final swat.
An audible difference from the fist 2.
That last one was obviously the hardest. By this point Joey was inconsolable. Crying hysterically. The door opened and he stepped out and dropped to his knees. His hands grabbing his butt in agony. That image is burned into my mind to this day. After a few minutes he regained his composure and stood up and went back to class.
There were times in my life when if I was overwhelmed by something, my brain would slip into an almost cinematic flow and I could zone stuff out . Somewhere in between an out of body experience and daydreaming.
She motioned me in and I walked in and sat down. I’m sure he asked me if I knew why I was there. I did. He probably explained why there were consequences for certain behavior. As he spoke, his right arm pulled open a drawer. He stood up and Revealed the weapon. He made his way around the desk and assisted me out of the chair. He proceeded to move the chair out of the way.
“Put your hands on the desk. “
I hesitantly complied.
This was it . The moment of truth. He drew back his arm and a deep breath through his nose.
Just as the tip of that paddle passed that pivot point and it began switching directions, I threw up my hand! I looked him right in the eyes and with a complete straight face I asked,
“Wait a minute, wait a minute!
Is this gonna hurt?”
All at once I saw a change in his expression. I could see his nostrils flaring as he fought off a smile.
Adrenaline pumped through my body. Did I successfully defuse the inevitable with comedy?!
Almost like if someone un-paused my life,
“Yes it is.”
the paddle flew up and came down on my ass.
Whap!
I felt that, but it wasn’t terrible.At that moment I realized I was going to hafta do some acting here.
Now I’m not sure if it was the involuntary tell from my facial expression, or the muffled sound the paddle made on the second swat. He was no dummy. For good measure the third and final blow was strategically placed on the back of my legs. I regret to inform you, that brought out some genuine tears.
I carried on the charade for the duration of the incident. I was excused back to class.
Man he really let Joey have it.
I do not recall the rest of that school day. I do wonder if it was hot, or uncomfortable for me.
Sunday evening.
I was supposed to be sleeping, unfortunately I was restless due to the knowledge of facing the music tomorrow morning. I tossed and turned for minutes on end. How was I going to get out of this?! My mind raced, grasping at any mental straws. Nothing was out of the question at this point. My imagination ran wild with possible solutions. Maybe it was a movie, or Wile E. Coyote, but there was a light bulb.
I’ll wear 8 pairs of underwear...
