S is for SCHOOL

'Stand Out!' Those were the dreaded two words everyone didn't want to hear in the classroom. They were usually prefaced by a name of a pupil but they only meant one thing. The cane. There were any number of reasons why our teacher would have used that phrase, from eating in class, to messing about, copying and even talking or whispering. All these were punishable by a sharp crack of bamboo across the palm, the pain of which lasted long enough to remind us not to reoffend but the mark often lasted longer and you only hoped that it had gone by home time, just in case an inquisitive parent began to ask questions about the red stain on the hand. I reckon, in hindsight, that the teacher was probably hoping the mark had disappeared too otherwise he might have had some explaining to do, should a mother or father land at his door wanting chapter and verse of what had happened. When you were ordered to 'stand out!', it was like being on death row for a while, because the punishment was rarely administered immediately and you had to stand in the corner, near the big bookcase until teacher decided to become executioner. His cane was long and thin and had a hook on the end, a bit like a walking stick and I'm not sure if he really enjoyed using it for he never showed pleasure nor unease either before or afterwards. Once the moment of last requests had passed, the execution was swift and sharp and the pain only took seconds to kick in. Even if your name had not been called out, you quickly chose the path of least confrontation for the rest of the day, so I guess the method worked pretty well and nobody seemed to suffer any lasting effects or psychological disturbance. Only once in my primary school career did I hear those fateful words follow my name. It had come as something of a shock, not only to me but to everyone around but justice has no favourites and I soon was making the slow walk to the gallows, whereupon arriving, I waited with a certain false courage for the deadly blow. I was not detained for long and as the ache set in, I vowed that I would never return and left a changed fellow.

However, if I thought this was harsh treatment, I hadn't been to post-primary school yet but that day duly arrived and with it the introduction to a world that was ruled by fear and the cane. And no longer was it the sharp tap on the hand by a caring and thoughtful teacher who probably had our best interests at heart. No, this was a series of strokes on the posterior end of the anatomy, administered using the full force of a teacher's arm and with the sole purpose of using pain to wield power. The trouble with this system is always its misuse and I'm sure there were several teachers who found it difficult to separate their anger from their discipline methods and there were enough marks left to suggest that the punishment rarely fitted the crime. Having been reprogrammed by my one primary school experience, I never had the misfortune to come face to face with the ogres of secondary school but often I did watch as a poor, helpless offender was led along the corridor by a cane-slinging teacher towards an empty room and listened as the swish of wood on trousers echoed back towards me. As the teacher made his way back to holster his cane in the office, I couldn't help but notice how much redder his face had become and how much more impatient was his stride. Did it work? I don't really know, but the same individuals seemed to be constantly reoffending and only a handful of teachers appeared to use the cane with alarming regularity. Maybe that said more about the teachers than their targets!

The cane has long gone now and there is no doubt that while it did maintain a level of discipline that is often absent in our schools now, it's constant abuse made it a weapon that became obsolete and left a huge void for those who could find no other way to keep control. Still, you have to wonder how it would work in the twenty first century, when everyone has rights and has the means to get them.

How at odds such measures of discipline are with that of, the Great Teacher, our Father in Heaven for the writer of Proverbs tells us that 'the LORD disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in.' What a lovely thought that because God loves me so much he corrects me when I do wrong. Likewise, Paul writing in Hebrews says 'Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness.' I want to share in His holiness, in the good things of His kingdom and if he must direct me along a certain path, then I'm willing to follow. After all, that's really what discipline is - being guided and taught by someone who knows better than us. It may not be pleasant at the time but, 'later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.'(Hebrews 12:11). But it takes love to be the teacher!