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Two things that get under my skin are the way some parents discipline their children these days as well as some of the penalties given out by parents who still try to discipline their children. Common penalties today include being put in timeout, discussing why what the kid did was unacceptable, taking a toy away and being grounded to your room.
The problem with all of these punishments is there is no “attention getter.” When I was growing up in the late 1960s and early ’70s, we may have gotten some of these same things – but only after they were followed by an “attention getter” that often involved a belt or hickory.
A hickory is a branch off of a tree limb that had to have a certain amount of knots on it. Most of the time, my mom would make me go get one.
The first time I got the honor of getting a hickory, I picked out a real smooth limb. That was a mistake, because she then went out and got one with a bunch of knots on it.
From that point on, I had to figure out what the happy medium was. You had to find one with some knots on it, just not too many.
I spent many a day, after misbehaving, with stripes on my legs from a keen hickory. In today’s world, my mother would have been arrested and charged with child abuse.
Don’t get me wrong – there are cases when kids are abused. However, correcting them in the way I was corrected was not abuse, it simply taught me the correct way to behave.
I can see my mama putting me in timeout. I would have laughed about, then got up and continued my bad behavior. However, one trip into the yard to get a hickory, knowing what was coming, would make me think twice before I committed that offense again.
I didn’t think it was fair then, but as I look back on it, I only got one whipping I didn’t deserve.
My dad was the preacher with Fires Creek Baptist Church in Clay County when I was growing up, and a gentleman by the name of James Deaton attended there. He liked to have a good time, the adult who still enjoyed getting into a little mischief every now and then.
I would often sit on the back bench, so the fire and brimstone coming from the pulpit wouldn’t hit me. James like to sit there, too, and probably for the same reason.
Anyway, one Sunday, while my dad was preaching, James thought it would be a good idea to shoot spitballs at him. I was seated beside him while he was doing the mischief, thinking it was funny, so I laughed as I saw them whiz by dad’s head.
After the service, as we headed back to Murphy, I was informed that I would be on the receiving end of my dad’s belt when we got home. When I inquired what for, I was told that I was shooting spitballs at him.
I explained that it wasn’t me, that it was James who was launching the wet ammo at my dad, but my explanations fell on deaf ears. When we got home, I got one of the worst whippings of my life. Dad may have been just a little peeved that I was shooting spitballs at him while he was witnessing to his flock.
I kept proclaiming my innocence even after the lashing I took. When we returned to the church building that night, I told James about the discomfort he unleashed on me. My dad was standing within earshot of the conversation.
You would have thought James would have asked for forgiveness, followed by an apology from my dad, but that’s not what happened. At almost the same time, they both said, “Well, that’s probably just making up for another one that you should have got.”
To make matters even worse, James laughed about it. I loved the guy, but he was quite a prankster.
I’ve seen parents today give a kid a slap on the bottom with their hand, and while some people look at them like they have committed a mortal sin, most of those kids don’t have to be told three or four times not to do it again. I seen other parents who tell their kids not to do that again, and it has no affect.
The difference – the “attention getter.”
J.R. Carroll of Murphy is a staff correspondent for the Cherokee Scout. Get his attention via email at jcarroll8760@gmail.com.