The Gym/Shower Punishment

The normal publishing date for my blog is every other Friday,
which would have meant the newest essay would get posted
tomorrow. Other commitments will keep me from posting tomorrow,
so this essay goes on the blog today.
Thank god I wrote this essay two weeks ago. The election didn’t
go quite the way I would’ve liked, and writing hasn’t been that
easy over the past two days (hard to stay focused). I actually
did do a bit of writing on election night. Just so I could take
my mind off the results as they were being posted. Right now I’m
cautiously optimistic. You can’t go through life any other way.
Word Count: 1132

The Gym/Shower Punishment

Pg. 1
At times I wish I’d become a teacher. Besides the fact that
I deeply admire the great commission they’re entrusted with, my
sisters have carried on a fantastic legacy my mother started all
those years ago.
The oldest one trained stockbrokers and met her husband when he was a student in one of her classes. Just as a side note, those first few years after I met my brother-in-law, I kept singing the lyrics to that Van Halen “Hot for Teacher” song whenever I talked to him.
My second sister won a prestigious award at the elementary
school where she teaches in Texas, and I’m so proud of her for
achieving that honor. She didn’t gloat it over me when I talked
to her about it, but she obviously could have. She was entitled.
My littlest sister teaches pre-school kids (“little people”
as one of my uncles used to refer to them), and although she
doesn’t make much money doing the task, I feel like the job she
does is so essential to a vibrant, functioning society. In fact,
one of my wishes is to have the financial resources to
supplement her income one day. If I did this I’m sure the snack
options whenever I’m visiting her apartment would substantially
improve. From my perspective, this is a vital consideration.
The teachers I had while growing up in Silverton were
definitely worth remembering and commenting about. The most
memorable is of course the instructor who’s teaching philosophy
Pg. 2
was based on the tremendous influence of “intimidation as a
learning tool”. My favorite story about him in an odd sort of
way focuses on this philosophy in practice.
Middle school P.E. in fall of 1972 had the boys & girls
running down to an open field the school used as a staging
ground for soccer. Standard modus operandi had us at the start
of class stand next to an assigned number painted on the
bleachers. Drill sergeant Stalin (this teacher was a former
Marine) would blow a whistle and we’d run into the locker room
and change into our gym clothes, and then run back out and stand
by our number. Bashar Al-Assad would then blow the whistle
again, and we’d dash down to the soccer field. At the end of
class we’d run back to the school, take a quick shower, and go
to lunch.
This kid named Dick Elwood, who was basically the butt of
numerous jokes even though he wasn’t smart enough to be
considered a nerd, was the last one out of the shower one day.
When Sergeant Sadistic got back from lunch he walked into the
locker room only to discover 6” of standing water as the result
of the faucets not being turned off in the boy’s locker room.
Holding fast to the teaching mantra of punishing all for
the actions of a few, Count Dracula punished all the boys the
next cay for Dick’s indiscretions. We’d stand at our number,
he’d blow the whistle, and all the males would quickly dash into
Pg. 3
the locker room to change into our gym clothes. Following that,
the whistle would blow again, we’d take another shower and
change back into our street garb.
This pattern would be repeated all during class, and the
middle school boys at Silverton School in fall 1972 took nine
showers that day (I’ll always remember the exact number). The
girls got to play volleyball during class, or some other fun
activity without Pol Pot glaring over their shoulders. Needless
to say all us boys were very clean when we left school for
lunch. I’m sure the school’s water bill spiked that day too.
This teaching method was actually quite effective. No body
ever left class after that without checking to make sure the
water was turned off. I felt sorry for Dick Elwood though when
all was said and done. I noticed that he got beat up four times
the following week.
There are a few other teacher stories I vaguely remember
from my youth, and I could write numerous pages about the
adventure (or mis-adventures as the case may be). For now though
let’s move on to one other glowing teacher example.
I did in fact work as an instructor at one time, but it was
a slightly different situation. While doing my Peace Corps stint
in Kenya the job I had was that of an extension agro-forester. A
lot of our work involved outreach to schools and technical
institutes in and around the central Kenyan Highlands where I
Pg. 4
lived and worked. One of these was a trip with an accompanying
load of tree seedlings to a school for special needs children.
Now I was never totally proficient as a speaker of the Kenyan lingua franca – Swahili, but I did manage to talk my way through most of our extension trips, showing the kids and their teachers where to plant the tree seedlings we brought them. Most of the students were just fascinated to see a Mazungu (White – European) in their midst and delighted in observing his comical attempts at speaking Swahili.
Just to add an extra element of confusion, the main tribe
in the central highlands in and around Mt. Kenya happens to be
Kikuyu, so Swahili was often a second or even third language for
most folks (English being #2).
Two months after the initial extension trip, we made a
follow-up visit to the school. One of the teachers mentioned
that a few of the tree seedlings the kids had planted during
that first trip didn’t make it, and wondered if I had any
theories concerning the mystery of dead saplings. This led me to
digging up the ground around some of the seedlings that had been
planted, but ended up biting the big one.
Just like Herr Adolph all those years ago, my discovery
that day was quite enlightening. Seems some of the tree
seedlings had been planted upside down, thus decreasing their
chances of survival by a factor of about 98%. These were kids so
Pg. 5
I quickly forgave them for their indiscretion rather than
petitioning to use a variation of the gym-shower punishment.
After arranging to bring the school additional trees to replace
the ones that died, we were on to the next extension visit.
The teacher apologized profusely, but I told him it wasn’t
necessary. Mentioning that his job as an instructor is a
somewhat thankless task to begin with, and he’s doing the best
he can under the circumstances.
That’s pretty much what a lot of teachers are up against.
For a large percentage of these folks it must feel like they’re
paddling upstream in a trusty paper Mache canoe. Thankfully
they’ve got a few folks like yours truly with their back.
Pg. 6