My first year of school in South Texas was at Lamar Elementary School in 1960. It is not important to my memory that this was my first year of school in South Texas. It is just a place marker for one of a few an individual Teachers that had an influence on me. Those teachers that I remember as special.
The Sixth Grade Class at Lamar Elementary was split into between two teachers, Mr. Hayes and Mr. Sperling. My teacher was Mr. Hayes. Besides actually feeling like I was learning the necessary subjects required to pass on into Junior High, which lay less than fifty yards south of Lamar, I actually liked Mr. Hayes. He made me feel like I was important as a student as he did all my classmates.
He just made learning fun, which kept all our attention, and not allowing us to stray. Now being an 11 year old and the new kid in town does pull at uncontrollable urges which happen to most boys at that age. It is just in our blood, hormones, genes, or for lack of a better explanation my brain. That is why I was one of the first, besides Tim to get into trouble. It was one of those days when you get hit in the head with a spit ball, and you feel you just have to retaliate. Most of the boys had plastic straws and spitballs from paper, since it was easy to tear off a corner of paper and put it in ones mouth to make a solid if not somewhat wet ball. I say must of the boys had these arcane weapons, but not I.
I was a good boy, and did my best to stay out of trouble. Knowing that if I got in trouble, and sent to the Principles Office, and that information got all the way home, that Little Mikie would have HELL to pay. Anyway I remember Mr. Hayes was giving us our Math Class, and I have to admit I quite liked Math all those years ago and still do. I am paying attention setting on the first row next to the wall about three quarters of way down it. All of a sudden, “Thud!!” right upside the right side of my head, and then the sound of it tinkling like bounce on the floor. My first thought was, “Hey !!! That was not a spit wad !!!” Looking down quickly I saw a little round ball rolling under the neighboring desk. Looking Up toward the direction it had came from, I spotted Tim on the complete other side of the room. There he was trying to hide his smiling face, as he pretended to be listening to Mr. Hayes. Mr. Hayes voice came to me now, but it was like someone’s voice was mumbling to me, from down a long dark hallway.
I suppose I had fallen into the “Zone” all boys do when attacked, especially for no reason. Not having a like weapon that like the straw, which could be used quickly and then concealed just as quickly, both happening in a matter of seconds, I was scrabbling through my mind for some sort of reply to this ambush. Not thinking it all the way through I took a piece of paper from my clipboard, wadded it up as tightly as I could. Then having enough sense, I thought, to avoid being caught in my act of revenge, I watched Mr. Hayes, waiting for him to turn back toward the chalkboard.
There we go. Straddling my desk seat, I stood up, and threw my paper ball as hard as I could aiming for Tim’s head. My luck it fell a row short and hit a girl in the head instead of Tim’s. She let out a “Cry !!!” as if she had been been hit with a baseball, grabbing her head and pointing at me. Needless to say Mr. Hayes had turned around as the paper ball was in flight and right before it hit the girl. I stood frozen. He asked if the girl was alright, who now had a bunch of her friends around her, oowing and ahwing. She answered she was alright. He told them all to let her be, and to get back in their seats. As they did the Girl looked at me with big brown eyes, which were begging to be answered, “Why?” Looking from her to the other side of her was Tim with a slight grin, on his face. Shoot seemed like everyone was smiling now, but not Mr. Hayes, he firmly instructed me to wait outside the classroom door. I complied.
It seemed like forever and ever before the class bell rang for our recess. My classmates came streaming out all happy with their jump ropes, dodge balls, and footballs, etc. screaming in anticipation of the next half hour of fun. Mr. Hayes came out, locking the door to the class room. and put his hand on my shoulder guiding me away from the class room, and toward the play ground. When we got there he said in an almost forgiving voice, “Mike, you know I am going to have to punish you for what you did.”
Looking at me with his crewcut hair cut and happy eyes. He asked, “Would you like to tell me why you did what you did?”
I thought a moment of all the times I had a similar questioned asked by my Father. I would not tell then and I would not tell now. No one likes a Tattle-Tail. I looked up to his eyes, those smiling eyes, and answer to him, “No Sir.”
Just before recess was over he took me back to our class room. I knew what was going to happen, before he asked me again if I had anything to say, and he receiving the same reply as before. He asked me to bend over and grab the corners of the top of the desk. As I did so I looked out the windows which lined the whole side of the class room. There on the ramp were most of my classmates looking through the at me. They were not laughing, they were humanly concerned as much as sixth graders cane be. Two wraps of the paddle and it was all over. This was nothing to me, I had felt worse, but it still stung all the way to my desk.
Some time later in the school year, I distinctly remember a brief conversation I had with him on the ramp, which lead away from the Administration/Principles Office. This ramp was used by the kids who needed to catch a bus ride home. I do not know how I was able to catch him on the beginning portion of this ramp. He was all by himself, maybe he was assigned duty to watch over the kids catching the buses or maybe he was on break from it all. I also, do not know why I was there by my self. The only thing I can assume now is that I must have had some note, errand, whatever and had came out of the administration office and found him there, or maybe it was that school was about to be let out. Regardless. I remember him, if I close my eyes and think real hard I can see him there.
A heavy set man, but not really fat, he was about six foot tall and that to me was tall at that time. He had smiling blue eyes, and short haired flattop, hair real short on the sides and back. I seem to recall he always wore kaki pants, guess that was a style back then as so did my Dad. He had stripped short sleeve shirts he always wore. Now he had on a light cream colored jacket. When outside, he always seemed to have a half smoke cigar in the corner of his mouth with the paper ring around it still intact. I remember he had a shapely, beautiful gregarious wife with raven black hair. They both always seemed to smile when they saw each other and give each other a protected hug, as if not to freak out any of us little folks.
Through the conversation I had with him. He told me he thought it was honorable that I did not rat out Tim, but he knew it was him. He asked if I learned anything from it and I said that I did. “Yes Sir. To ignore such actions of others and do not seek revenge.” He replied that that was good. Then I asked how long he had been a Teacher and he said only a few years. Silly me asked why he had grey hair then. He chuckled and said he was prematurely grey but he was in his mid forties. He had retired from the Navy after twenty years and had found this job teaching and had been doing so since he had retired.
Now that I think back on it.
He reminded me of my Dad with his firmness, of my oldest Brother Kenneth with his fairness, of my Uncle H.O. with his shortly cut flat top, of my Uncle Burt with the short cigar, and of my Grandfather Ragland with whose eyes always smiled, unless you required that other look. And also as I think back, to and of them all, they are all just and good men.
In my eyes Mr. Hayes was a Good and Just Man, too.
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The Poppadillo Blog, is the blog page for the Texas Tortilla Factory website, and its stories have been written by Mike Vauthier, and Administratively Approved Authors.
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