Were DUNCE caps a real thing back in the day in your one-room schools?


Only see them on Little Rascals reruns.

NO caps.

but the nuns did put us in the corner


some of us got to go there alot


if really bad, one might get to go to the nunnery to eat their sack lunch and no play on the playground.

And the normal assigned 10 Hail Mary and 10 Our Fathers.

but no dunce hats.

They would put you in the corner, but caps were gone by the late 50s.

a lot is two words by the way. 😂

Maybe you needed more time in the corner.

alot isnot twowords theway Itype

In South Louisiana public and private school we had to kneel on rice, talk about torture.

My knees were well calloused by the fourth grade.

Never been to a one-room school. Saw kids hit, whacked, paddled and whatnot by teachers and admin. Had to stand in the corner before. Putting you out in the Hall was big. Later on Suspensions and sometimes Expulsion.

Had this fat cow of a teacher in Sophomore year. Nobody liked her. Some kid was f u c king with me and I dropped my pencil. I leaned over to get it and my desk/chair tipped and the guy pushed me on over. No big deal but it caused a ruckus and the teacher got enraged at me. Hell, it weren't my fault. The kid that did it was Valedictorian later and a teacher's pet though, so she targeted me even though this guy confessed that he'd done it. She told me to kneel by my desk. I told her I'd stand up if she wanted me to, but I wasn't kneeling. She was so mad at being disobeyed that she could spit. Her eyes were bulging out. She told me I was gonna kneel and I told her I'd just go on down to the Principal's office. I gathered up my shixt and booked. Told the Principal what happened. He was a loser and liked this c u nt, but also knew the score and just told me to work in his office 'til next period. Everybody laughed about it later, said she was fit to be tied and didn't know wtf to do when I just left.

You seen his error eh?

I see'd em

There's already a Boomer thread for Gen X to do their chucklehead routine in.

No, never.

It was an “automatic F” from Mrs Peggy F’s English class.

80 year old hag

She’d quirt you with the overhead projector cleaner if you dozed off in there. 🤪

I’m not a boomer but when I was in school it was not uncommon for a male teacher to punch the snot out of a disrespectful student. I watched a few friends get their dunce caps knocked off several times. I also know that after getting beaten by a teacher the last thing a student would do is tell their parents because they’d get beat all over again.

Now a teacher can’t even yell at a student without repercussions. The times have changed and not for the better.

No caps either but their were common options:

1. face a doorway and bend over to be hit full swing with those large wooden T Squares resulting in you landing face first in the outer corridor
2. sliced across the back of the fingers with the sharp edge of a 15" ruler
3. Caned across the open hand or wrist if a bad shot, using solid cane with the ends burned to prevent splitting - 2 for minor issues, 4 because the teacher loved the power or 6 which was maximum by school regs. (Heard of student canned 6 times and marched around the building and canned another 6) Even had a metalwork teacher once, short stumpy bloke who stood on a chair or stool and jumped off to maximize the power of the stroke when caning.

If your hair touched your collar you were suspended until it was cut. This was basis high school.
It was called discipline and the alternative was always pain. But it did teach me that people in charge were not always right or honourable.

I got my hind end paddled for playing magical mind bender of spoons in the lunch room.

Shop teacher in junior high would make paddles, the kind with the holes in them, that hung in teacher's rooms. Usually only took one whack to see the light. On my first day of high school some greaser lipped off to the teacher, the dean of boys came in, grabbed him by the neck and dragged him out of the room. From that point you could hear him being smashed into lockers and begging for the dean to stop. He was a good kid from then on.

Ku Klux Klan?

I ain't no boomer, but I got the cuts (cane - 6 of the best accross my arse) for trying to get some boom/boom in grade 8 !

Bingo.

and the spelling police (the American variety) will be along shortly to tell you there is no "u" in honorable. (It's even underlined in red on my screen)

Don't worry, it happens alot with our Canuck friends too.

Ha!

I learnt to type on a ol' Remington tiepriter.

alot happens a lot on these here newfangled electrisical machines.

lol

Geno, rest easy, Ingwe will not visit slumlord threads to correct mine or your spelling. For the great one has me on ignore.

Dad never said anything about dunce caps.

I dont think the parents would have tolerated it.

Overhead projector....

I remember ( i was in grade school in the 80’s)
those slide show projectors.

Played the cassette tape, made a beep when it was time to go to next slide.

Slide was on roll of film ?

Filmstrip


Haha

Nap time...zzzzzz

All we had was shadow puppets.

And Holy Cards.

That one nerd punk that always wanted to turn the knob.

Remember the sub that used the marker that wouldn't come off directly on the glass?

Remember how much schit you would get for turning the bulb and fan off at the same time?

Remember when a calculator was a stubby pencil and a piece of scratch paper?

I know English, I am still learning American........The English language was dumbed down in the US in the early 1900's because the immigrants struggled with it. Check it out.

Abacus

Heard many a older teacher reminisce about a former administrator that was retiring. The most common memory was where some 90 lb blonde trailer trash in the back row called a well liked, petite 50 something English teach a stupid b*tch and asked "what you gonna do 'bout it". Teach smiled and said I'll be right back. Came back with the then youngish VP who happened to be a former lineman at U of M, about 6'5" well north of 300 when I was acquainted with him in his later years.

He pointed at blonde skank and said come with me.
Skank: "make me"
VP doesn't say a word. Grabbed her by the pony tail, dragged her up and over the back of her chair and cavemans her down the hall to the office. Shes screaming the whole way.

Ah, the late 70s/early 80s.

I know, it drives folks nuts when I'm in the hockey comments on the sports page I use and spell things either way. Defence or defense?

No dunce caps but you did have to be careful about pissing off the wrong teacher or bus driver because some of them would kick your ass. I saw students get the piss beat out of them more than once {black eyes,bloody noses, fat lips}, dragged out of class by the hair or carried to the door by the neck both feet dangling and thrown out into the hallway.

Wasn’t around in the dunce cap era but grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone. My second grade teacher was one of my best friend’s mom. We’re still in touch today some 30 years later - my friend, not his mom.

Where I grew up, it was a common saying among parents when dropping a kid off at a friend’s house, “If he gets out of line, spank his ass.”

I’m not entirely sure what the rules allowed and didn’t allow in the school system, but I can still remember my dad telling all of my teachers that at the open house each year before school started. Many of them were happy to oblige.

Best one of them all was my crazy chemistry teacher throughout high school. This dude was off the rails and on the spectrum at the same time, god rest his soul. Literally every time I fell asleep in his class, with surgical precision, he’d smoke me in the head with a dry erase marker from the front of the class. I remember my mom asking about this lump on my head one time and me telling her what happened and my dad laughing about it saying something along the lines of, “I guess that’ll teach you to sleep in his class, won’t it?”

Different days we’re living in now. I think I’m probably guilty, too. If my kid came home and told me the teacher smoked her in the head with a marker for falling asleep in class, I’d be on my way to the schoolhouse. Of course maybe it’s different for a schittheaded high school boy and a girl. I imagine that same thing wouldn’t have occurred so uneventfully if I’d had a sister and it happened to her.

Swapping "S" for "Z" which is pronounced "ZED" is tough (tuff) for me and I still call them Zed Zed Top.......lol
Dropping the "U" and many others still becomes a challenge to unlearn. I believe there were around 250 words adjusted to assist the learning as English along with Mandarin are supposed to be the most difficult languages to learn and most immigrants a century ago came from Europe.

Useless info of the day: I set up a PC once and at that time Microsoft Spellcheck had 17 versions of English to select from.

Never wore a dunce cap.
Had the school record for swats in the sixth grade.

Shop teacher once stuck a cattle prod in a guys ear who fell asleep in class. He sprung up wearing his desk like a hula-hoop.


Good times!

No caps but we had a "bench of shame" out in the main hallway and if you got clipped for anything you had to spend the day sitting on it while everyone walked by and stared at you. I ended up on it once, never again. Didn't like the stares.

It made us what we are today...................















BOOMERS!

& Aussie Canucks too !

Geno, ya dumb bastard, a lot is 2 words !

Ours had a device we called the "clicker". The nuns put the fear of God into you if they pointed that thing at you and thumbed the trigger that caused the audible click. You were a pariah and feared your parents would be told.

Ha, ha - Yeah this ^^^^^^^^^

Chinee calculator !!!

My Uncle was a teacher, similar time frame.

Some student punk giving him $hit, similar to above.

Walks back there, grabs arsehole by ear ring & tows his arse outta seat via phaggots ear ring !

Definitely couldn't do it today !

When I was in fourth grade my teacher was a miserable old bitch. She'd use a pointer to wack kids with. One day, for whatever reason, she grabbed this kid named Bobby by the arm and wacked the living tar out of the back of his legs until the pointer broke. Next day, Bobby wasn't in class. About ten in the morning, the principal shows up at the door to the classroom with Bobby and Bobby's mother. Bobby's wearing shorts and the back of his legs are all black/purple welts. We can see the whole thing going on through the glass door to the hallway. (This was '57 - '58 when schools were doing heroic things to handle the flood of boom babies and our "overflow" school was a converted hardware store in a rural strip mall. ) Bobby's mother was going up one side of that old bag and down the other. The teacher was trying to play innocent but Bobby's mother wasn't having any part of it. We were all hoping she'd pop the old bitch. She needed it. She was the worst damn teacher I ever had, absolutely cruel to kids in a number of ways.

I had a 6th grade teacher that was a prize. Great big old 300 pound sow...She drove a Plymouth and every day there were three of us that got to school early and we'd run to the door when she arrived to watch that Plymouth bounce up and down when she got out.... laugh our asses off. One day this girl, Carolyn, probably the most beautiful girl in our class and still a beauty today, did something that pissed off Friedabelle (that's what we called the teacher.) Well, old Friedabelle went waddling back to where Carolyn was sitting and whaled the hell out of her with a fly swatter until she was bawling. Friedabelle goes waddling back to the front of the room, looks back over her shoulder just in time to see Carolyn sticking her tongue out at her. Waddles back there as fast as she can waddle and whales the hell out of her again with the flyswatter.

Didn’t the Klan take care of bitches like that?

Pop got called into the principals office for my brother. Pop walks in and smacks my brother into tomorrow. The principal says “ Mr P your son wasn’t involved we made a mistake.”

Pop says ,” well that’s for something he got away with...”

Got my ass tore up with an oak desk back slat many a time but never wore a hat of any kind in school. Weren't the white thing to do.

g

We had a football coach at my high school who was a WWII Marine Corps vet wounded at Iwo Jima and decorated for it. Walked with a limp and would jokingly tell you he got his ass blown off---which was not entirely untrue. He wrote a book a few years ago titled Hell Yes, I'd do it Again! by T. Fred Harvey. The man was a member of our church, and his son and I were buds. He was revered as a coach, and when he decided to move on to another coaching position our football team defeated a cross town rival 46-0 in his final game at our school in 1969...it was an inspired asskicking if I ever saw one. The oddest thing is that when he went on to his next assignment in Littleton, Colorado and coached their team, one of those boys ended up at UT El Paso where my sister was attending classes and he is now my brother-in-law. We did not find out that Fred Harvey had been his coach in Colorado until more recently.

Anyway, I had a mechanical drawing class my freshman year of high school. Coach Harvey's History classroom was right across the corridor. I was at the teacher's desk one morning having a drawing checked, and I saw Coach Harvey out in the hallway with a student who had misbehaved in class. Coach had a baselball bat shaved flat on one side, and that was his paddle. The poor kid was bent over holding onto his ankles, and I saw Coach wind up with that paddle and deliver a home run that would have left Babe Ruth gawking. The kid never let out a whimper, but his eyes sure were shiny.

Too bad that kind of discipline is no longer allowed. We're the worse for it.

When I was just a sprout, I was shipped off to my grandmother’s place, age 4 I think, (little brother too, he was maybe 18 months) so my Mother who decided staying home with 6 kids and feeding 20K chickens while Pop plied his trade as a brick layer and concrete man was not for her long term. She decided to go to college...

The other four siblings were old enough to be rented out to the local truck farming Masters with a fair assurance they would live to get home and feed the pigs and milk after putting in their 12-14 hour day.

As an aside, Fall Break for us was “Cotton Picking”, local schools took off most of October to get that crop in.

Mama (Maternal Grandmother) was a retired one room school house teacher and along with her garden chores assigned each day, reading writing and ‘rithmatic were required as well as Bible reading at night. Chapters flew by, either her reading to you or you to her depending on age and expectations of the Old School Marm. (She graded your day on a calendar every night after Bible reading, good days denoted by a sun with beams shooting out, lessor by just a sun, Clouds could be added and especially bad days received the representation of a rear end, and the worst by added drops of excrement falling out, she was a literal person…)

By the time I started “real school” I was a little far advance for see Ted run, and as a result I was bored, much less trapped inside all dang day during the school year, a situation I was less than happy with. As a result I was not what one would classify as a “Model Student” in my single digit class years.

Of relevance, Mother had wanted to be a Chemist, and had actually gone to school on an assistanceship from Dow, who had a pretty big presence in Tennessee at the time. Having scored well on a placement test they chuckled at her for wanting to leave all them babies and try out a man’s field, figuring she would cut bait and cry her way home shortly, they were not prepared for her graduating top of her class, and, late 50’s just starting to allow women to do more than suckle brats and wash clothes somewhat but not really, they told her they could not give her a job as an Engineer (why, the men would just revolt) but they pay for her to go to George Peabody to get her teaching certificate so as to not “waste” the education…

Her first job was at Glennclift High School in Nashville, had an Aunt up there that was well placed as an Educator at Hume-Fogg, so Mom was hired right off after graduation, Pop loaded the rest of us up and headed for the City. I spent my first two years incarcerated there, but Pop did not like no place to hunt and he was no happier cooped up than me. Things got tense as she was making more than him and he was not a happy camper…Viet Nam was kicking off and the Milan Arsenal was starting to make boolets in a big way and Harvey Aluminum was the contractor in charge at the time. They paid a stipend to the system for each employee’s child in the school there which far outstripped the normal tax base, making the pay they could offer top teachers the envy of the State at the time. My maternal grandfather was the maintenance head man of the railroad there and he was able to get Pop a job at the Arsenal in building trades and got her one at the local school.

We were back in the country, halleluiah…

All that to get to the part that bears on this thread.

In Nashville they were rich enough to give each kid a math work book that was yours to write answers in. Looked just like the one they handed me first day of 3rd grade class in Reba Bell’s room. I proceeded to fill the whole thing out that day as I was again bored and they were farting around with stuff that did not hold my interest. She happened to trundle by and see me hen scratching in said tome, pulled me up, shook me like a terrier with a rat and hauled me down to J.P. Bradbury’s office. I was stunned and as nobody even knew my name as the new kid,I had no chance to explain myself. He made me grab my ankles and swatted me three times for defacing the book. Having grown up getting beat for infractions by Pop, who could in fact take the hide off a mule, I evidently did not quaver sufficiently to satisfy Lil’ Man’s desire to see me suffer, in fact, I think I might have said something to effect of "is that all?" The result of said encounter was that bastard breaking his paddle over my back, not my rump, and the whole thing taking place in the outer office for the benefit of K-8 to hear, and, the fact I had made my mind up to not cry regardless…he was beside himself and grabbed for his spare till Miss Reba stepped in between us and said that is enough.

Teachers calling teachers is a real thing folks, and by the time I got home, my Mother had been appraised and was just sure it was all my fault. I was about to get the obligatory second , much worse beating till she saw my back…She got on the phone to Miss Reba and got the play by play, not just the “your kid as a teacher’s kid really messed up” version and she held off till Pop got home for further conversation…oh boy!

I could hear the rise of voices when he came in dirty and tired from the day as my oldest sister was trying to dress the whelps on my back in the bathroom, the next thing I knew door burst open and Pop was there, snatched me around to look at the damage and out the door we went, him dragging me by the arm.

Into that old Chevy Pickup and down the road we went, the same look in his eye he had the day he came home and I had dropped the back tank cover of the just installed toilet and broke the bowl when I was 5 on a weekend visit home. The dairy down the road has run three phase power to a new set of coolers allowing us to hook up ‘lectricity which allowed a real well and running water for a flush toilet, I had no idea how the thing worked and was just curious. (as there was nothing to sit down on, it was just as well as it was several days before I could manage that) Seeing that same cloud on his face, I could only imagine I was going to be killed outright at the principal’s house as a sacrifice the New Job God.

I was extricated by the arm (for some reason parents of the day used that as a handle) and drug to the front door of the principal’s house, the supplication to open the door was not muted or gentle, in actuality the house shook. J.P. arrived in his undershirt, suit pants and newspaper in hand, glowering at being disturbed. Pop invited him out on the porch and pulled my shirt up and asked him “you do this?” J.P. stammered “He wrote in his book and then mocked me when I punished him!” Pop allowed that whipping my ass was all right, and if I needed it that is what God put it on kids for, but if he ever hit me on the back with a board again, he was going to write something on him he would never forget.

The law showed up later at our house and there was another heated conversation in the front room as all us kids huddled and waited. I was called out and the stripes shown to the Chief who allowed that had been too much, but that Pop could not be taking matters into his own hands, at which point Pop allowed as to how that would be fine, as long as he did not have to, nor did he think he would.

In that whole awful afternoon he never once spoke a word to me. I took far worse hidings from him over the years, but those I suppose I deserved, like the night of my16th birthday when I came home drunk about 4:30 AM. Cops got called for that one too, neighbor reported a murder in progress in our back yard, Pop was wearing my head out in, same Chief said “Damn Charles get off that boy!” Pop asked him if I was driving drunk and ran over his daughter, who was he going to sue, Chief backed up with a thoughtful look and left me with that old man. I worked all day making mud and toting heavyweight 12” concrete blocks, hard to do that with your eyes swole shut. Dang near died but never not once crossed his threshold drunk again.

From those sad days to the one where I laid his tired old bones in the ground a couple of years ago, I never doubted he loved me, and that when push came to shove he had my back. I feared him and respected him, and we do not have enough of that going around anymore. But, every time I saw that little putz of a principal, I remembered the day Pop was ready to go to the mat for me.

A more interesting/fitting question would be...Who on the CF deserves to be wearing one of those Dunce Hats?

I cant believe you guys put up with that schit growing up.

This thread smells like mimeograph ink.

Hahaha! If you were "lucky" you could get a job cranking the Ditto machine all afternoon......

I never needed a dunce cap it was quite obvious without one. GW

Great read, appreciate the post.

What the world is a holy card?

That what jehovahs give out ?


Or was that like a get out of trouble immunity card?

Geno, you shouldn’t punched Lil tommy
Teach, move on along. Here’s my holy card.

<smacks it down on the desk >

Was a teachers fave.
Even if they did light my azz up a few times early on.

Dad tells the story of the new history teacher who came to town. He was a Marine and always wore a big Marine Corp ring. If the guys got rowdy he’d turn his big ring upside down and smack the offender on the top of the head with it. Until one day when a repeat recipient of this treatment decided he’d had enough. He’d grown up in a rough household and could take care of himself, he gave the teacher fair warning that he wouldn’t do that again or he’d make him regret it. Teach smiled and rared back to pop him again when the guy came out of his seat and proceeded to whip the dog piss out of the teacher.

Teacher resigned immediately, they suspected out of embarrassment.

I got plenty of asswhippins at school, standard practice was 2X the number of swats at home as I earned at school. And I’d encourage the administration to keep my boy in check to a point. But actual physical beatings are over the line. Some of the stuff you guys describe getting from your teacher or principal would have me up at the school wearing somebody’s ass out if it happened to my kid.

I had an azzhole stepdad growing up.

Azz beatins at school were minor league.

Kinda ties back to that miss your moms funeral thread.
She married that POS and did nothing.

Ill skip it.

Like Valsdad and Ranger Green, I attended parochial school.
The paddlings, I could handle with no problem - but I believe the reason my knuckles are all swollen is due to those damned rulers applied for inattention or mischief!!!

Heavy paddle, usually 6 licks, do push-ups in the hall between periods with everyone walking by, & the worst, detention, pick up rocks off playground, miss the bus & the long walk home

I went to Catholic grade school and high school. I can remember the rulers on the fingers and I still have bumps on my head from getting whacked by the nuns Jesus Mary and Joseph ring

I was public school all the way

Only ruler we got were in the palms, and that just a one-time deal.

We had a skip day when I was a senior at a county park. About a three day kegger. The priest that ran the high school came out about the middle of the second day. He got thrown in the river

😂

Little Rascals were pre boomer btw

A boomer story: My uncle got in trouble for mouthing off and the teacher applied the wooden ruler to the knuckles treatment. She smacked his hands so hard that the end of the ruler broke off in her hand. He picked up the other end of it and slapped her across the face with it. My grandmother laughed about that one to her dying day.

We has a dunce cap in one of my elementary school classes. Second grade I think. We offenders got marched to the back of the room and sat in a stool with it perched upon our heads. That was 1977 or so. She was an old fat cow who didn’t like the boys much; especially the roudy ones.

Right

Right


So I extended the dunce cap era to those communities that may have transcended into the boomer era. 😃

And additionally since we have dudes that were 30 years old in the 1970s that have never heard of Foghat, I thought of them and the one-room schoolhouse analogy.

Like I’m sure Salmon Idaho is now getting punk kids with souped up Saturns with NOPI stickers.

I think I'll name my next dog Spanky.

Yep. 5th grade, 1967 or 68, our teacher(male) used them. 1 or 2 kids wore them about every day for one reason or another. He had 2 of them. I remember one time he needed a 3rd, so used a 1 gal tin can.

Then in 6th grade, we and another male teacher. Of course there was a no gum chewing in class rule. He caught a kid chewing, so he made the kid spit the gum out on a piece of paper the teacher was holding. The teacher then smacked the gum right on top of the kid's head. Funny as hell at the time. Awe how times have changed!

Kkk Indoctrination.
Proof?
See if Buckwheat ever wears one.
Hmmmmm.

That aint nothing.
I had a big teacher in forth grade that must've been having a PMS day. She hauled off and punched me with her fist. This wasn't martial arts class either. 😄

It’s hard to see them when they’re on top of your noggin.

Nope. Put your desk in the corner and then make you run laps around the room.

X’er. No dunce caps. But Catholic high School in The 80’s. Xaverians. Seen a kid get picked up square in his desk and tossed out in the hall, desk and all, violently, by a perennially pissed off ‘brother’. Guy kicked the door open too, like a SWAT move. Incredible. Seen all level of upside-the-heads and humiliation practices. But, the BEST move I ever saw was by a lay-teacher - The Blue Dot. This guy would come up to you, and eye ball you, then quick-as-Schitt he’d clutch your nose in his fist between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, and give it a vicious squeeze. Took an hour or two to really show, but for at least three days after you were walking around looking like Rudolph The Blue Nosed Reindeer. Just look like a jackass

got lots of licks with the paddle.

Lol

We had full inclusion for Physical Education and Wood shop, exploratory ‘fun’ classes.


So we had two retards in our gyms class. Full blown, clinical.


Dude was like 20 years old, 6ft - 3”, 200 lbs lol

Had some sweet karate moves or maybe it was a “tic”


Poor guy would NEVER bring his report card back. Deal was coach would let all the boys have a total do-nothing whatever day if a majority brought report cards back the next day.

One extra day he would bark and grumble

After that you was on the sheeit list.

David the retard was on about Day-5, coach says “get over there and do squat thrusts till your tongue hangs out”

Retard strength. David went all period. 😃😃

Next day same chit

Come to find out his groid “social worker” minder-tender was hanging onto them for some reason. JFC, poor kid

Damn, our grade school PE teacher just made us play kickball outside regardless of temperature so he could chain smoke Winstons.

Our coach took a bullet to the forehead after he retired. Working at his fireworks stand in a walmart parking.

2 car loads of groids were having a shoot out in the parking lot about 100 yards away.


https://www.wmcactionnews5.com/story/6711470/longtime-basketball-coach-killed-in-drive-by-shooting/

Really didn’t like the Phys Ed guys/coaches. They were sadistic. Lay Teachers again. They had us do the Marine Physical fitness test, or attempt to. It was worse for some than others. We had this real fat [bleep] Italian kid In our class. Son of a very large and pretty profitable dairy conglomerate at the time and the area. Yeah, milk-fed veal. Future candidate for My 600 lb Life, if he’s still alive... anyway, nice enough kid just disgustingly obese. You didn’t no [bleep] example for this kid to know what he wasn’t capable of, or what it meant to be “morbidity obese”; sure as [bleep] no Marine Physical fitness test. Lard ass couldn’t even sit up, once, from flat on his back. Had to roll over and push himself up. To get up on his feet. But those mofo’s went through the full regimen with him, specifically, and as an example, I front of us the whole class. Both of them straining to lift him up from the waist to the chin-up bar, just so he could wrap his hands around it, then them ‘spotting’ his body weight to display that he wasn’t even capable of suspending even a portion of his own body weight, for a second. The jumps. The whole deal. I felt like killing somebody after that. Either the kid, or myself, or them. It was unnecessary. To the extreme. And I don’t consider myself the sensitive type.

No hats, had to set in the corner facing in on a stool, pointers, rulers and books are what the teachers could hit you with. After 2nd grade and a teacher fuxxed up a kid with a board of education. Boards still used by principles and disciplinary principals until middle of jr. High. Made those paddles in shops class out of 1/2 plywood. Cutting them out on a bandsaw. Sanding and covering with spar varnish. School was a walk in the park compared to what you would get at home justly so from a WW2 combat get for being a dumba as

My coach up there that got shot.

He was like that. Thing is, the coach at the time was probably 35 yrs old. He was a lardass too. Sadistic I thought too. Make all the chubby kids take their shirts off during basketball. Play shirts n skins. lol

Yep.

Or hard lessons taught clearly. I dunno. ‘THIS IS WHY YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE A LARD AZZZ’
Hahaha.

Kids started shooting people at the high school I graduated from.

I suspect they throwed the paddles in the dumpster after that.