Walking home from school
that day, my throat was dry, a sensation of strength washed over me. I had really wanted to hurt that guy, to see
blood. Right now I figured my blood
pressure was like 160 at least. I was
grateful for the eight miles between the school and my house. I needed this long walk to help silence the
blood pounding in my ears. I knew my
parents might be upset when they heard what I'd done but this showdown had been
a long time coming. Right now I didn't
care about the possible consequences. Besides,
I felt like that guy had been just looking for a fight and he nearly got one
from me.
Maybe my vision was clouded as I walked home
from high school for the last time on that warm day in 1965, the year I turned
16 and knew I didn't have to take that mistreatment anymore. Hell, it wasn’t like it was my first trip to the Principal’s
office, I had gotten used to that, but on this
day, I was determined it would be my last
trip there.
I was sent to his office,
this time, from shop class. I had rigged
a piece of lumber in the lathe so it would fling out at the shop teacher when
he turned it on. While that action had
gotten a rousing laugh out of the class, the shop teacher was far from amused
so it earned me a trip to the
principal’s office, nothing new for me.
But this time it was different
from the three days of detention I usually got. This time he told me he ‘would
have to paddle me’ because it was such a ‘serious offense,’ and someone could
have been hurt badly or even killed by the flying wood. He then took a significantly sized paddle
from behind his desk and came at me with it, a look of almost delight in his
eyes, as if hitting students made his day.
I decided I wasn't going to make it easy for him either. I had
already decided that he wasn't going to lay a hand on me.
As he approached me, I
bit my lip, felt my hands clench and unclench as I moved slowly and deliberately
towards him. As soon as he entered my
personal space, I planted my feet further apart to let him know I was standing
my ground. I defiantly said: “If you
touch me with that damn paddle, I’ll break it over your f%*@king head.”
Suddenly he stopped in
his tracks, as his eyes widened he seemed to be doing a double take about the
whole situation. He was probably stunned
by my language. Back then, small town
Indiana nice kids weren’t supposed to
talk like that. But I had always been a
rebel in those days anyway, and I admit I had a definite problem with authority
figures.
Whatever the reason for
his abrupt stop I will never fully know, but after lowering the paddle he
looked at me through squinted eyes.
Finding his voice again, he asked: “What did you just say?”
Infusing as much anger into my voice as I
could, I answered: “You heard what I said." Once I repeated myself he then pointed out I
would have to be suspended for three days at the very least. I lowered my head and mumbled something about
how it was going to be the longest three days he would ever see. With that having been said, I slammed out of
his office, walked through the big glass doors, away from the building, never
once looking back.
That son of a bi&@h sure didn’t
need to tell me twice. I knew I was never going back to that school. I
really hated school anymore anyway. For
a long time now school seemed to hold little meaning for me. I had grown restless and failed to see any reason
for continuing high school.
On any other day but
today I would not have liked the eight mile walk home because it usually seemed
so long. But today I was grateful for
the distance between the school and my house because it gave me a chance to think
as I walked. While walking the eight mile
journey home, I mulled over in my head what I was going to say to my parents
about my plans to never go back to high school.
I had been thinking of joining the Army for some time and I could think
of no better time than now but I would need my parents to sign papers for me because
I was only 16. I would just need to
convince them it was the right
decision.
Steve/Author
As a young soldier in Vietnam
