Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Pains of a Hack


Pains of a Hack
The year 1968 was a very transitional year for me. All though Lewiston was just across the bridge from Clarkston, my parents were moving our family there. This meant leaving behind my home and friends I had grown up with. At 10 years old I was scared to death to pack up my belongings and go, let alone start a new school. As I would later find out, Mrs. Renner, my 5th grade teacher, would not only teach me the basics, but also teach me the pain of a hack!

It was summertime when we finally made the move. I noticed there were many kids of all ages in the new neighborhood we had moved to. I started making new friends, and thought to myself, maybe this new school won’t be so bad after all. All the kids here seemed to be pretty nice and I was getting along in my new environment very well. Summer seemed endless that year, maybe it was the anticipation of beginning a new school with new teachers that made it seem that way. Registration did come however, and I was very excited about meeting my new teacher.




Toni 2
Mrs. Renner was her name and she looked harmless enough. As I entered the classroom I noticed this very small fragile elderly woman standing at the chalkboard writing her name. She was wearing this plain grey dress that went all the way down to what looked as if to be army boots. She had a slight bend to her back and her glasses sat down on the end of her nose. As she was writing her name on the board, I could see her hands shaking as she was writing. Her eyes never left the chalkboard as we all took our seats to start the day’s events.

One day while in class, my new found friends and I were talking and laughing quite loudly. Mrs. Renner screamed, “Toni, get out in the hall”! Being screamed at and told to go out in the hall only meant one thing, a hack. A hack was never a good thing. It meant receiving a hard smack on the behind with her all too famous paddle. Most of the time, Mrs. Renner was very soft spoken. Sometimes we could barely hear her when she spoke. But when she yelled you could hear her sharp raspy voice half way down the hall. She always kept her paddle hanging on the side of her desk. It looked like a ping pong paddle, only it was made of wood and to us it seemed like it must have weighed 100lbs.

I could feel my face getting red and the over whelming feeling of embarrassment and fear. As I stood up from my seat and started walking to the door, I could hear my friends snickering. All of them knew what was coming as did I. Mrs. Renner in her small demeanor now seemed as if she was 10ft. tall and weighed 220lbs.

Toni 3
Out in the hall I already had tears streaming down my face. Mrs. Renner instructed me to bend over and touch my toes. Even though I knew this was going to be painful, I bent over and touched and touched my toes. Closing my eyes tightly and holding my breath. Then, in one mighty thrust, this fragile elderly woman hit this paddle with all her might over my behind.

After the initial blow was received, Mrs. Renner told me to sit in the hall and think about what I had done. Then she walked backed into the class room closing the door behind her and leaving me in the long dark empty hallway alone.

The longer I sat there, the more upset I became. Why was I the only one singled out to receive the hall punishment, and not any of my friends? Why did this person have the right to hit me? As far as I was concerned, the only people allowed to give me a smack on the behind were my parents.

So I decided at that point to get up and walk my sore behind home. When I got home with tears in my eyes, my mother asked me what was wrong. As I explained the day’s events, she put her arms around me and gave me a hug. I swore to her at that moment I would never ever go back to that school again, especially Mrs. Renner’s class. If I had to go back, I wanted transferred out of Mrs. Renner’s class!


Toni 4
Later that day as I was lying in my bed, I realized that no one, not even me, deserved to be treated in the way I had been that day. That was the moment I began to dislike school and definitely Mrs. Renner. She taught me that inflicting physical pain on anyone was not something I felt should be done. Not only did it cause a very sore behind, but it also was embarrassing and made me feel degraded. It did not teach me that receiving a hack was a good form of punishment in a school; it only made me angry, never want to attend a place where someone could smack you on the behind.

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