Leonard

Leonard was one of those elementary students who is indelibly ingrained in my memory.  He was a second grader when I first me him and a fourth grader when I left for North Side.  Those seven years that he had built up were like dog years.  In many ways he was a middle aged man.

What I mean by middle aged is not in wisdom, unless it is street smarts.  He regularly shocked his teacher who would relate to me things that he blurted out in class.  One that I remember was "I bet my uncle makes more money than you."  The teacher who was only a year older than me asked the obvious question, "That might be Leonard.  What does your uncle do?"

Leonard's response changed that class that day.  "He's a pimp.  He's got lots of ladies that work for him."  The teacher was speechless, but the class joined in the discussion, some knowledgeable on the topic, barely; others who became interested in their education more than ever. Two years later, in his fourth grade year, he was recruiting for his uncle, among the teachers.

When he came to the gym, things were different.  He was competitive and loved playing games.  He was good at them.  If we were playing kickball, he not only scored all the time,  he caught everything when he was in the field.  If we were climbing the poles, he wanted me to time him.  I couldn't stop him.  There was none of the inappropriate talk; he was just a kid.

I don't think that I have mentioned that I was the only male on the staff.  Well, in the first years, there was a male custodian.  All the teachers and the principal were women.  My relationship with Leonard was the only time that I realized that I was that one man.

You see, when the principal was out of the building,  a couple of the other teachers were put in charge and handled discipline even if it wasn't in their classroom.  What you also need to know is that in those days schools were still able to use spanking as a level of discipline.

The day that sticks out most regarding Leonard was one of the days that Mrs. Adams was at a principal's meeting.  The teacher who was covering for her that day brought Leonard to me.  She was carrying a paddle with her.  While holding Leonard by the arm, she told me that he had stabbed a girl with a pencil.  She said that she was too angry at him to paddle him herself and wanted me to do it.  It wasn't a suggestion.  Before I knew what was going on.  The paddle was in my hand.

I remember his face.  He was looking right into my eyes.  I was looking at him and the paddle.  I never paddled a child before.  I never paddled a child after.  But I did that day.

I would like to say that Leonard learned his lesson.  I would like to say that when I met him later in high school he had turned his life around.  Leonard didn't graduate from high school.  He did time in prison.
And I paddled him.   From time to time I try to find out more about what happened to him, but I probably don't want to know.