Corporal Punishment

Kids these days are out of control. Not all of them mind you, but many youngsters aren’t getting the same upbringing I had growing up. There are many reasons for this (including the garbage on television) but one of the biggest ones is a lack of punishment. Parents are either too busy or disinterested to teach their children the importance of discipline. And if we let this continue an entire generation of misfits could soon be ruling the country. Or at least what’s left of it.

When I was a boy my father knew the importance of a good spanking every now and then. He would come into a room when we were acting up and a mere crack of the belt got us back in line quickly. That’s because we knew he was serious. If we didn’t listen, we got the belt. Simple. Behavior followed by consequence. A couple red marks across the back of the legs will make even smart mouth kids like me think twice about open rebellion. I was only dumb enough to challenge the dreaded leather one time in my life.

After spending my youth openly challenging my father frequently, I began to become quite adept at knowing when I’d crossed the line. In those instances I realized before it happened that the belt was coming soon. On one such occasion, I got the bright idea to stuff my pants with Archie comic books to absorb the blows. And I convinced Kevin to do the same. They were more like small paperback books in size than regular comics and were the perfect defense, or so I thought, to corporal punishment. Boy was I wrong. Dad went through his usual routine of beating us senseless for misbehaving before noticing we weren’t crying. Not only that, looking closer he saw that we were actually smirking at each other. That’s when Kevin started laughing.

“Shut up punk,” I said to him nervously. “Dad doesn’t think this is funny.”

But he couldn’t stop laughing. It became contagious and I started to join him. I knew my father was surely onto us now, but I still couldn’t get control of myself. ‘The giggles’, as we called them, had taken over. Everything anyone said or did at this point was hilarious.

Dad tried to be mad at first shouting, “You kids think this is funny?”

“No sir,” I said. “Not at all. It’s just that we can’t stop laughing.”

Fortunately for us ‘the giggles’ were very powerful that day and even overtook my all-powerful father. He wanted to spank us but luckily for us, was unable to wield his weapon through the commotion. A higher power must have been smiling on us that day as we escaped the situation unscathed. We learned a great lesson though and never again used the power of the comic book to protect us from a spanking.

So we grew up with boundaries. It’s kind of like the idea of an invisible fence for animals. At first they push the limits to see just how far they can go. But after a few sharp volts of electricity go shooting through their body things change. They adjust so quickly, if fact, that the fence becomes unimportant. Incidentally, this technique works well with toddlers too and the manufacturer recently started marketing the product to this group. Just be especially careful to pay attention to the weight requirements on the package. It can tell you from personal experience it is very important.

Dad wasn’t the only one who believed in punishing us when we got out of hand. Though not one for the traditional spankings, momma had other weapons at her disposal to keep us in line. Truth be told, we pushed her beyond her limits sometimes. I will even admit now that I may have occasionally even provoked her on purpose. But my actions were not without repercussion. Mom would quite often resort to the closest thing available, her hand. My biggest problem was being a smart butt (go figure) and if I hit a nerve, a swift slap across the face would follow. She loved us very much. I know that. But she had to maintain a sense of order. I have had cold water thrown in my face, been dragged out of a store by me ear, had duct tape across my mouth, and been forced to stand with my nose against the wall for hours on end. However, the worst technique in her arsenal of discipline only came out under the most severe violations. And I can still remember one of them like it happened yesterday.

I was walking in the back yard with the neighbor kid Josh when he started cussing at me.

“You better stop that,” I said as every profanity known to man flew out of his trashy little mouth.

“Or what? You gonna run and tell mommy?” he replied.

Next thing I knew there was a voice coming from what I now realized was my mother’s open bedroom window.

“Wesley Brent Basham, get your tail in here right now! Josh, go home before I yank you in here too.”

“Yes ma’am,” Josh said cowardly as he tucked his tail between his legs and scurried home.

As for me, I anxiously walked inside to face the music. Arriving at my mother’s doorway I found her standing near the restroom waiting patiently for me to come over. She had a bizarre look of calm upon her face as she motioned me over toward her. I swallowed hard and started moving, knowing full well that whatever mom had in store for me would be easier to take than dealing with Dad when he got home. Or so I thought.

“Stick out your tongue,” she said.

“What?” I blurted out, surprised by her request.

“I said, stick out your tongue. Don’t make me ask you again.”

Fearing the worst I eased my tongue slowly out of my mouth wondering what could possibly be coming next. Then it happened. She pulled her hand from behind her back and scrubbed my mouth out with a bar of Zest soap. Seeing my reaction her anger disappeared as I could tell she was trying desperately to hold back the laughter. I ran into the bathroom and shoved my face into the sink. It is no exaggeration to say I held my tongue under the water for the better part of an hour. The taste just would not go away. It was awful. But I must admit, not another foul word escaped my lips until I hit high school. So while her methods may have been a bit unorthodox, it is hard to argue their effectiveness.

That is precisely what’s missing in society today. No, I’m not talking about child abuse. I mean a firm hand of discipline in kid’s lives giving them boundaries and helping them grow into responsible adults. Things would be much different if parents would just get a little more involved.

• Got your nose pierced? Great, lets pierce both your cheeks too. I don’t care if you do have a ‘leakage’ problem when you try to drink something. You’re the one who wanted holes in your body.
• Spent the night at a friend’s house without telling us? Fantastic. When do you move in with them? Your stuff is already out by the street. Sorry about the Playstation being destroyed. Guess they aren’t tough enough to handle a two-story drop onto pavement after all.
• Want to have a temper tantrum at Walmart? No problem. Wait until you get to high school and your mother and I have one in the middle of the dance floor at your senior prom. We’ll make sure we yell out your name so everyone knows we belong to you.
• Like to set things on fire? Ok. We’ll start a bonfire tomorrow using the entire contents of your room as kindling. Luckily its all already out by the road. Invite your friends over and we’ll have a cookout.
• Think it’s cool to talk back sarcastically to your parents? Perfect. I hope you like the taste of soap. Duct tape is also very useful in this situation. Some methods are simply timeless.

These are just a few examples. The main thing for parents to remember is to be creative. And despite what the critics scream about children’s rights and all that, remember, they don’t have any. As long as they are living under your roof you make the rules. Children are amazingly resilient. We have a moral obligation to raise these kids into productive members of society. And I for one intend to take my duty seriously. I can only hope you do too.

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