I found out recently from someone who rides the church van with me that soon it may be illegal to spank your child in Michigan, even if he is falling out in the store over a toy you refused to buy for him or her. You as the parent could be brought up on all kinds of assault charges. Because you take seriously your responsibility as a parent to nurture, love,and shape the character of your cute little rugrat, you could wind up with a felony, which, in turn, would make it difficult for you to obtain employment in the future.
This, indeed, is unfortunate. As a teacher at school, I cannot count the times I have taught in a classroom, and have given a direction–a simple direction like “Okay, let’s watch the language,” only to have this little pip-squeak answer me back, saying, “You watch how you step to me, man.” I can’t turn them over my knee and whup him myself, or I will be fired AND sent to prison. And I can’t send them to the office. If I do, the principal will place a polite letter in my file at the district headquarters, asking me not to return to that classroom.
The district, in turn, will become mad at me, the substitute teacher, for not carrying myself in a way that would have earned his respect. They will behave as if it were my fault the kid sassed me. I am expected to correct, in one hour’s time, a scenario that the parents of this child created through years of inadequate parenting. Not that the state is making things better by further restricting parents’ rights to discipline their offspring. The late Dr. Ben Spock, after all, once said that spanking tended to damage a child’s self-esteem. (Sidebar: By the way, from what I have heard, Spock reversed himself on this one later in life.)
My dad,for sure, believed in corporal punishment. One whipping I received, with a belt, occurred on Saturday night, March 30, 1974. I was eight years old. Here’s how it happened: You see, at the Koolbreeze household, there was a family tradition. Every week, on Saturday night we went out to Elias Brothers, Home of the Big Boy, to eat. I would always order the same thing: Two fish sandwiches, a banana cream pie, and a coke. Well, on March 30th, he came home empty handed, saying that he didn’t have the money to get it this week. Instead of being the understanding eight-year-old boy that I should have been and said, “Okay, I understand,” I went into my bedroom, screamed, hollered, stomped, and cried. Sure enough, at about 7: 10 that cloudy Saturday evening, my daddy showed up at the door with the belt, and gave me the thorough whipping my bratty little butt deserved. I mean, Daddy whipped me so hard with that black, leather belt that I wet my pants!
I have no marks on me from that evening. His blows left no lasting scars or damage on me. But what it did teach me was character, regard for other people’s feelings and that you do not get to have your way all the time. Could you imagine where I would be today had Dad not loved me enough to chasten me when I clearly needed it? I probably would have wound up in prison for rape,theft, or murder. You see rape, is forcefully demanding your way with someone, and failing to take no for an answer. Theft is taking something that doesn’t belong to you, simply because YOU want it. And murder is the taking of something that only God has the right to take–a life, perhaps because that person was standing in the way of something you wanted.
Moreover, the things I learned from my daddy’s stern, yet loving hand on that dreary Saturday in ’74, have helped me keep a job and a wife. Until this very day, I do not have a single felony or misdemeanor. And I am gainfully employed, a substitute teacher, a published writer, and a happily married man. My dad passed away in 2003, but his values stick in my mind to this very hour, mainly, that if you work hard and actually EARN the things you get in this life, you learn to appreciate it more. On October 20, 2007, I took my wife to Elias Brothers for Sweetest Day. I worked hard for that evening out, and I earned it. I felt good about taking her there, because I paid for it with my own hard-earned money.
We need to bring back corporal punishment. I don’t mean that we should abuse our children. Let me stress that if abuse is even found, parents or teachers should be placed UNDER the jail. But if a little paddling at the principal’s office is what little Johnny needs to get him back on course, then we should be able to give it. Or at home, parents should feel free to give their kidlets a little whack on the fanny if that is what is needed to show parental authority. We need to go back to a time when a child calling 911 or the local FIA was unheard of. In the 1970s, in a child’s eyes, parental authority was absolute. There was no questioning of it or anything. It was just a given that if I am going to feed and clothe and shelter this child–I also have the right to take a switch or belt to his or her booty if he or she got out of line.
At the end of the day, it all boils down to the words of Solomon: “Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him” (Prov. 22: 13). We need to go back to what worked in the olden days. Or we can continue not to discipline, and wring our hands and wonder why school shootings take place, or why kids often go to gangs, and suddenly end up dead, in jail, or on drugs. Kids need boundaries, rules and guidelines. They need to know what awaits them if they cross the line. And it is the adults’ job to train the next generation. And lawmakers, if they have any conscience, should not tie parents’ hands.
