The Flip Side of Discipline

Being new in town has a couple of advantages.: I don't have to take a shower before going to Raley's on Sunday morning because I don't know any one to run into; and I am always early because I haven't yet figured out "Tahoe Time," the art of being fashionably late.

So it was at last week's Incline Village Chamber of Commerce mixer. I arrived at 5:00 and was the only guest for a good 15 minutes. Luckily the physical therapy clinic hosting the event was well-stocked, and I busied myself by concentrating on the sushi, the mango salsa, and the merlot.

When I had done gorging myself, I looked up to see if I knew anyone. Not surprisingly, the answer was no. And then a weathered gentleman ambled over and introduced himself. His grip was firm, and when he found out that I was an educator, his eyes lit up.

Now I have found that, in social situations, being a teacher is dangerous because everyone's got an opinion about education. It seems as though an educator is just the same as a politician or a parent - everyone feels qualified to give you advice, even if you don't ask for it.

"You're doing good work," the old timer said. "My mother was a teacher, and she knew how to run a classroom. Not like these teachers today.

"Yep, when my mom was teaching back in Minnesota, and she had trouble with any of those farm boys, she'd draw back and let ‘em have it. And they took it because they knew what was good for them."

Not wanting to offend my only friend in the room, I nodded weakly and moved closer to the celery and blue cheese dressing.

"But I'll tell you, I have a lot of respect for teachers these days ‘cause they're dealing with an entirely different kind of kid. My mother wouldn't have known what to do with some of these kids with pierced tongues."

My ears perked up. I don't know much about pierced tongues, but "respect" is a word that educators spend a lot of time talking about.

"If my mother had got ahold of one of these kids, she would have hauled off, and his fanny would've been sore for a week.

"You know," he continued, "last year, a teacher invited me in to speak to her class. Once I got started, I could see a couple of these kids horsing around in the back. Well, I looked over at the teacher, and she looked back and kinda shrugged. Boy did that make me boil . . . "

"But there was nothing you could do," I finished his sentence for him.

"That's right," he muttered. "Those kids didn't care and that teacher didn't care."

And I'm thinking to myself, students are just like anyone else - they just want to be respected. And most of the times that's what they're telling you when they're acting out or acting as though they don't care or acting all tough. To my mind, respect is the flip side of discipline - respect requires discipline, and discipline requires respect.

But I didn't say that. Instead I said, as I tried to dig the celery out of my teeth, "That's too bad because I bet that those students would have learned a lot from you if they'd been listening." "Maybe," he said, "but those kids listened to my mother because she disciplined them."

"Maybe," I suggested, "but my guess is that your mother knew those students well enough to know what they wanted and what they needed, and when they needed discipline she gave it to them, and when they needed respect she gave it to them."

The old timer sighed slowly, "I don't know, it's just not the same."

"I think it is the same," I said. "Students haven't changed. Maybe their hair is purple, but respect and discipline haven't changed. Discipline fosters respect and respect fosters discipline. That's one lesson your mother understood."

"I guess she did," the old timer. "Now what'd you say your name was, young fella? I got a couple of fishin' poles gathering dust in my garage, and if you want some real fish - not like this here sushi - the lake's swimming with Makinaw."

"Sounds good to me," I said, "as long as I don't have to take a shower, and we get an early start."

--Steve McKibben
10/9/05