Do You Remember Me? Look At Me Now!

When I was a young junior high principal, I worked with 800 students in a building designed for 600, with an open lunch hour and no assistant principal. Maintaining a positive learning environment was one of the biggest challenges in my career. The school had the reputation of being “rough,” prior to my arrival. Looking back, I’m not sure how I survived that first year.

Corporal punishment in those days was alive and well. Giving swats for inappropriate behavior was an everyday occurrence for boys and girls. Students had the option of a swat instead of detention. Suspensions were only used when they did something drastic. Another option was to call parents for a conference. Most kids didn’t want parents involved because they knew they’d be in big trouble at home. Now days, they run home “crying wolf,” claiming they were treated unfairly. We didn’t have enabling parents demanding consequences be negotiated, so guess whose behavior changed?

It’s hard figuring out why junior high students are so immature. When they cross the line by breaking the skin of  another student with a pencil, spit in someone’s face, write nasty words on the rest room wall, urinate all over the floor, the consequence needs to say loud and clear, “this is totally inappropriate.” A firm swat to, “straighten the spine” in the 70’s, got their attention.  They didn’t often return and their behavior changed.

Through the years, I’ve crossed paths with many former students. For a period of 25 years, I had almost every kid in town as their principal, at one level or another. After retirement, and to this day, former students approach me with, “Do you remember me?” and, “Do you remember when?”  I don’t always recall names but I do remember faces. It’s hard to recall names of the 10,000 students I worked with during this period.

After getting the names straight and talking about the “good ‘ol days,” they confess to doing silly things. In an apologetic tone and with a smile, they inform me they appreciated what I did for them. Now, years later, they realize my effort was to get them to make better choices.  They often bring up the day they received a swat and invariably tell me they deserved it. Seeing two former young men together, they debate who got the most and the hardest. It’s as though they compete for “bragging rights.” When they talk with pride about their family and say, “Look at me now, because I’m doing well,” my confidence in young people is restored.

It’s hard to describe the “emotional high” I get when young adults share their feelings with and about me.  Here we are 25-35 years later and they come up and thank me for caring about them, during a time when life was much simpler. I’m frequently told I was a firm,  no-nonsense guy,  but fair.  These conversations restore my faith in young people and reaffirm my belief that what we were doing with discipline was effective. Continued next week.