I vividly remember the first day of each school year, even after more than 45 years has passed since my last one.
Those school years took up just a small segment of my increasingly long life, but in the days of my youth, that’s all I knew at the time so those moments were the most important and often the most stressful that I can recall from those days.
I have to admit that I wasn’t one of those students who was excited for summer to end so I could head back to class; and I guess I would have looked like one of those who seemed to be getting ready to meet an executioner to anyone passing by in a vehicle.
A lot of that had to do with the fact that I went to all-boys schools until I attended university, and many of the teachers in those days and in those Catholic schools weren’t exactly enlightened in the progressive ways to make learning more fun and entertaining as many are today.
We were taught in an atmosphere of fear and intimidation, and anyone who got out of line usually quickly regretted it.
I don’t know if today’s students ever heard of “THE STRAP”, but it was a tool of punishment that many teachers had in their desks that was ready to be hauled out in the event of any breakdown in the subservient and tense mood that they liked to cultivate in their classes to keep everyone quiet and orderly.
You would think that would be hard to do in a class of young teenage boys, but anyone who had to deal with a strap knew better than to give teachers any reason to focus on them.
For those who have never had the honour of seeing, or being struck by one, a strap was typically made of hard leather and was about one-half inch thick and one foot long.
You would have to hold out your hands, palms up to expose the most sensitive parts, and the teachers would then raise the strap above their heads and swing it down as hard as they could to connect with your fingers and palms.
It would hurt worse than anything, and you would get between five and 10 hits on each hand before this society-sanctioned torture was over.
I suspect that a teacher would be up on assault charges if a strap was used on students today.
In fact, I saw one in the Nanaimo Museum many years ago, and when I explained its purpose to my nephews and nieces who were with me, they were both amazed and horrified that teachers were once allowed to use such a weapon as a disciplinary measure.
No wonder I, and most of my classmates, looked like we were heading to our executions on the first day of class each year.
On top of that, the fact that we had to go to all-boys schools didn’t exactly add much fun to our days either.
A lot of my friends at the time attended mixed schools and I was always amazed at the stories they would tell me about their interactions with the girls each day, which was something we Catholic boys never had the fun and privilege of experiencing.
Needless to say, we didn’t have many school dances, which seemed to be joyous occasions that my friends in the mixed schools looked forward to. Few of us from the all-boys schools would have wanted to go to our school after hours anyway; it was just not a fun place to be.
But things have changed a lot in the school systems across Canada over the past half century, and I’m pleased to say that it appears to be for the better.
One of my nephews, Adam, is a Spanish teacher in a high school on the Lower Mainland this year, and he has the type of personality where he receives respect from his students without even having to raise his voice, much less having to haul a leather weapon out of his desk and threaten his young charges with physical assault to keep order in his classroom.
All those thoughts went through my mind as I watched kids heading to school on the day after Labour Day last week.
I’m just glad none of them will have to go through what we were forced to endure.
