I don't know if it had been a bad day or what, but I apparently wasn't in the mood for anything the least bit unpleasant. Which is why I did not react well when Dean Walters came up behind me and smacked me in the neck.
This was a thing at the time among we 12- and 13-year-old boys, you see. We smacked each other in the neck and then ran away. We did this because...geez, do I really have to explain? This is what the adolescent male of the species does. It's just the way it is.
Anyway, Dean smacked me in the neck and it kind of stung, and I wasn't happy about it. So I immediately turned around and started running after him. I got about four steps down the hall when I looked up and saw Mr. Bowden, one of our teachers.
I had always known Mr. Bowden to be a good guy. I never had him as a teacher, but he knew me and always said hello.
But he, like me, apparently wasn't in the mood for any shenanigans that day, because he immediately assessed the situation, grabbed us by our shirt collars, and marched us down to the principal's office.
I was terrified. I had rarely been in trouble in school, certainly not to the degree of being subjected to formal discipline. And now, for the first time, I was being taken to the principal's office.
I seem to remember Dean taking the whole thing in stride, with a smirk on his face, even. Maybe he was used to this. I don't know. All I know is that I was pretty sure I was going to prison. (NOTE: Dean is actually a good guy. I don't mean to imply he was a hardened criminal or anything.)
Mr. Bowden told the principal, Mr. Gerber, what had happened. And Mr. Gerber quickly doled out our sentences.
(ANOTHER NOTE: Am I wrong here, Wickliffe people? Was Mr. Gerber the principal or the assistant principal at the middle school during the 1982-83 school year? Because usually it's the assistant principal who handles disciplinary matters, but maybe in this case if was the big guy who did it. Not that it matters to the story, really.)
As I recall, Dean and I each received two detentions.
Detention. I had no idea exactly what that entailed. I just knew I was going to have to come to school early and sit quietly in a roomful of delinquents. Or at least that's how I pictured it (and it turns out I was pretty much right).
I was crushed. Which I realize is stupid, but I identified myself as The Good Kid....in school, at least. As chronicled previously, my friends and I tended to be a little more rebellious outside of school.
The idea of being thrown into detention was horrifying.
Of course, I served out my time and it was all fine. In fact, I got two more detentions in high school when Mrs. Coil heard me say – theoretically under my breath – that the essay topics on our Friday AP American History quiz "sucked." But after that my record was mostly clean.
I tell you this to explain in part why I am how I am. I am inordinately motivated by what other people think of me. Mostly by what people whom I love and/or respect think of me. This isn't a great life blueprint, but it's how I am.
If someone who falls on that love/respect list criticizes me, gets angry with me, or otherwise raises their voice to me, I feel as terrible as I did that afternoon in Mr. Gerber's office.
I try to teach my children not to be like this. To be self-respecting and not be slaves to others' opinions of them.
I want them to be this way because it's a better approach to life, and because I am incapable of being that way and therefore want to live through them. If I can't do it right, maybe they can.
I will, however, smack Dean Walters in the neck the next time I see him. And I won't care one bit if he gets mad at me.
So there.
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