Mrs. Gustufson

Mrs. Gustufson was the teacher at the 1 room country school for my 2nd through 5th grades.
She was a kindly old woman and a really good teacher though abit of a disciplarian, as I suppose all teachers were in those days.
Of course I wasn't her best student and and had a way of vexing her at times.
I recieved my just rewards of course - by sitting on a stool at the front of the room or writing 'I will not cut up in class' 200 times on the chalkboard. Even her by hand a couple of times.
I wasn't a mean or bad kid but I had this quirk of being fast on the draw with a quip, quote or pun that made everyone laugh - including her, though she usually gritted her teeth so you couldn't tell she thought it was funny.
Of course you can't have that kind of distraction in school and after 3 1/2 years of me she finally wrote a letter to my parents.
It was strange that day because Dad, who always came home after we did, was there when we got home.
I gave him the letter and he read it quickly. Then he screamed at me and said to get in the pickup.
We roared off to the school about half a mile away and Mrs. G's car was still there.
When we burst into the school she had been correcting papers and lookedat us a little afraid and confused.
Dad didn't keep her guessing for long tho and instantly went into a screaming rant about what a bad, unruly child I was and this is the way to teach me to behave.
Then he took off his belt and proceeded to give me a whooping.
Mrs. G. was appalled and shocked and afraid of it all. She said, 'No Mr. L
Please don't do this. He doesn't deserve this'.
When he didn't stop she burst into tears and kept repeating, 'No Mr L. No Please! This is not the way.'
By that time I had become just an object he used to show her he was the boss and he kept ranting and whooping me.
Finally she started across the room to the phone on the wall and said she would call the sheriff if he did not stop.
He paused and gave her a cruel sneer.
And gave me a couple more licks.
Then it was over.
She came back and looked at me closelyas my wails subsided to sobs.
Her eyes were darker than their normal hazel green and they had a smokey, bewildered but compassionate look inthem.
Then Dad and I left as abruptly as we'd entered.
The following morning she took me aside and asked how I was and did he whoop me any more.
I told her I was fine and no he didn't whoop me. Just more yelling, a few slaps and a boot in the rear a few times but that was normal and I was okay.
She said she was sorry it had happened and would never write another letter but I had to promise not to cut up any more.
Of course I promised....
Promises are cheap and easy for a 10 year old.
Butof course that quirk I mentioned before would sometimes show up and I'd pull off a funny but she wouldnt say much about it.
She would look at mecuriously tho and a smokey shade would cloudthose hazel greens and that made me realize there was more to it all than getting a quick laugh out of the class and I would think of that day and feel bad for what I had done.
And I tried to learn to be better.
She retired at the end of that year.
Not because of me or anything I did but because she was old and it was time for her to go.
I never saw her again after she left teaching. There was 6th grade then Jr. and Sr. High and then 4 years in the Navy to finish.
But I always felt bad for what happened that afternoon and after the Navy I tried to look her up.
Wanted to tell her I was sorry.
Dad's wrath was a normal part ofmy growing upand I felt ashamedfor her to have seen it.
But she had passed away a couple of years before.
I don't know why I felt like writing this today. And less do I know why I'm posting it here.
It was justasmall thing that happened a long, long time ago that doesn't matter now.
Catharsis maybe.
Of course I am gratefulthat she didn't have to witness how those early whippings turned into increasingly severe beatings as I went through my teens. But I'm still sorryshe had to see what she did.
And I would still apologize to her for that day if I could.
Only now, it would not be just for my own doings.
But also for those of my father.

Mrs. Gustufson learned something that day, the young man learned something that day, the father learned nothing. So sad. gobble

Same story here, almost verbatim. But mom, not dad. Didn't matter where we were or who saw. If she thought I screwed up, the beating started. Dad was the cool (temperament) one. Mom would go off like your dad. Once she started she couldn't rein it in. The day I got married she took a couple swings at me. I was 21. Had been making the house payments since I was 15. She was worried on how she was going to get by without me to pay the Bill's. Not many know how she was. Everyone thought she was this calm, cool southern woman, not so much.

While was in the second grade in a small 2 room country school one of the boys was a cut-up. I remember a time when the teacher took him out in the vestibule and you could hear a whack, whack, whack. Soon they came back in the room, the boy still had his swagger.

you could hear a whack, whack, whack

That is called using the board of education.

Can't do that today..

Ultradog ,Bless Your Soul!,. This belongs in YOUR STORIES ,,... most people in the modern world would say you are embellishing ,, BUT ,i believe every word ,,. because , I think ,,You are of Norewegian / German / Finland descent, And Mostly because I think You are a Hard Headed CASE -Man LOL,And I bet You are NOT A QUITTER either ,. LOL. Most All My families ancestry since 1810 - 1875,came from German / Belguim / France area. my folks were pretty tuf on us Too. Always plenty to do. My Dad could come up with the zaniest ideas to make more work ..
Lol . They raised 8 of Us, And there is not one slacker in The Bunch! .There fore,,, if You Can , As I did , Forgive Your Dad ,And consider Your Own Accomplishments in this world While refecting on Johnny Cash BOY NAMED SUE , I think All will be well ,.. I recall when i set my self up doing HOME REPAIR AND IMPROVEMENTS in 1974,I was a junior in Hi school and had sold a siding job to the barbershop. My Dad came in to the feed-room at the hog house ,..HEard You gonna do work for Windy.., YEP, I said as I was carrying bucketsof Ground feed up the aisle.. Dad Said ,, DO HIM Real Good, And every job YOU Do Be Fair.and HonestRemember You are my Son , And You have OUR NAME ,,, Dont You DARE spoil it !,,.. Dad was a man of few words but i remember that phrase as if it were yesterday. It would be wonderful to meet you someday ,,. but like many of us here ,, we may not see eye to eye perfectly LOL ,But I Do respect You .

my story is a little different, in that i never went to a one room school, but in the 60's i could be a hand full for my teachers myself, and well as for my parents dad was not above giving the belt , but him working 2 jobs to raise 8 kids, wasn't like he was gonna wake me up at mid night to give it my mom, after getting a string of phone calls from the principal about little bobby's behavior, finally said to him , do you think he behaves any better at home ? principal said, no, don't suppose he does ! mom then said, well, do i call you up and complain about it ? LOL she said, when he with you, and needs his butt whipped, do it, i'll do the same at home ? deal ? lol that man gave me the strap several times in public school he was still a good teacher & person though
bob

I hope that you broke the tradition of raising kids by the rod
My dad was a drunk and I spent plenty of time being one to.
Im a friend of Bill W and both of my sons have quit drinking
Im hoping that we have broken the tradition.

More power to you sir. I have lost so many people to alcohol. Distant family members and fellows I have known since forever. A very horrible way to die.

Good for you. Lots of us out here are sober because we have to be.

My dad and I went to the same one room country school, though obviously not at the same time.

My dad told once about the first day of school with a new male teacher. The first day of school, the kids ran rampant, and thought they were in for an easy year.

The second day of school, the teacher whacked the edge of his desk a half dozen times with a ruler and said. 'Yesterday you kids had things your way. For the rest of the school year, things are going to go MY way'. And they did.

Then, some years ago, the brother of one of my grade school teachers (who I knew well) called me one evening. He could hardly keep from laughing.

His sister, my teacher, had passed away, and in her things the family found a scrap book of items from when she was teaching. One of the items was a note from my mother. It read, 'Gene had a runny nose and watery eyes this morning, so I thought it best if I kept him home. By the way, while washing his pants the other day I found some matches in his pocket. On questioning him, he admitted he and Neal had found a cigarette and were going to try to smoke it in the outhouse during recess. Just thought you should know'.

Busted by my own mother.

I think about some of my regrets from time to time. Getting them out in the open lightens the load we carry. Some will suggest writing things on a piece of paper and then throwing them away as a way of purging ourselves of those things that are bothering us.

It can be odd how some people have a lasting impact on our lives, and we onto them.

Dang, Dog, it's easy to see why you went into the Navy when you did. Both my parents used a belt to discipline us three kids. Sometimes my mother used a switch cut from a peach tree limb. I was ten when the fourth was born, and I always thought he got off light when it came to discipline. I was never beaten severely, but I carried the strict policy with me through the formative years when our three sons were growing up. I believe I was too strict with our oldest, but, thankfully, he is smarter than I am. He has turned into a much better father than I was.

Butch

My father never used a belt. He used his open hand and then later as I got bigger, his closed fist, until I got too big for him to beat. My wife and I wanted no part of kids throwing tantrums in stores, or trying to appease them with promising a treat, then finally getting angry and beating them. Kids of parents who refuse to spank are more likely to get a real beating than those who do, when the parent gets angry. We agreed that we would do it the easy way. We would give them a few swats with a switch. My wife had a collapsible one kind of like an old car antenna that she could take with her. She would take the offender into the ladies room so no one would see. The switching was always followed with a hug. Both of our kids wanted to "be good" but were sometimes of course impulsive. Friends frequently said how lucky we were that our kids were so easy to raise, LOL. Our daughter got spanked only three times while our son would get three a day. Once they were grown they both thanked us for their upbringing.

Great post!Very well written!!

Thanks for posting on this subject. My respects to you.
Jim B

I remember story from 1st grade. One day Miss Roman declared she was going to give Danny a whipping after lunch. Well Frank Jr our janitor got hold of the rumors and packed Danny's pants with a book. We all had a great time when Miss Roman showed her frustration with Danny laughing while being whacked.

(quoted from post at 05:39:05 07/08/22) Sometimes my mother used a switch cut from a peach tree limb.
Butch

Click to expand...

My mother's favorite was a cottonwood tree limb.
I'm sure the effect was the same.

We used to get the switch also. I also got the wire handle of a fly swatter a time or two.

Good story!

With all the talk today about arming teachers and ordering them to defend their students, your story might have changed to you becoming an orphan. The lives of all three people involved would have taken a horrible turn to the worst. I'm glad it ended so well.

I think i was 5 when I was doing something I had been warned not to again. Mom had an apple tree she didn't want me climbing and had told me to stay out of it. Well, I did it anyway, climbed probably 10 or 12 feet up enjoying the view. Then here comes Mom, she had a whippy switch and meant to use it. I knew what was coming and tried to get down as fast as I could and make a run for it. Missed a foot hold and fell out, landed on my chest and face. Broke both collar bones. Mom still ready to switch me, told her I was hurt. She said not as much as I was going to be. Then she saw my arms flopping unhinged. Off to hospital then to fix me up. Mom said if I would have minded her, we wouldn't be here.