Just Another Day

It was a day like any other day in our 1980 6^th grade class at West School.  We had returned from recess and were settling down in our seats. The air smelled heavily of salty pre-pubescent kids cooling from a loosely supervised recess.  Sunlight streamed through the squared wooden windows which highlighted the swirling dust.  Though the thought of tarrying crossed our minds, we did not, because Mr. Bouldin was already at the front of the room and students did not tarry in his presence.

To understand the events of the day, it is imperative to understand the time and Mr. Bouldin which seem inexplicably intertwined.  Though Mr. Bouldin taught us all subjects history was his first love, and the army his second. Often times his wife even admitted to coming in third. He was a decorated Korean War Veteran, and at the time, Bouldin, as the most daring of children referred to him, was an active army reservist. He ran his classroom much like a military unit. Justice was swift and fair and generally not questioned.   The “Board of Education” i.e., the paddle, loomed ominously at the front of the room for all to see. Of course, children could be paddled in 1980 and were if deemed appropriate.  Not one of us thought it unfair or cruel.  If it happened, there was good reason and the student who had broken the law would return from the hall with red rimmed eyes and a snuffling nose.  The student in question might invoke bravado at recess with “Ole’ Chrome Dome didn’t have a swing anymore,” but we all knew it was an outright lie.  And yes, Bouldin sported a completely shaved head.  For someone who followed military order in all aspects of his life, he also prided himself on bucking the system a bit. He refused to wear a tie, and often wore the same type of clothing daily- loose trousers, shirt untucked, slipper-like shoes. The pipe he smoked at break and at lunch lay outright on the desk and cherry-apple scents lingered in the room and on his clothes.  Shockingly, he referred to Jesus Christ by name, in class, as a historical figure.  We were instructed to ask to use the toilet, or the latrine because “you had better not be going in there to take a bath.”  Once during a boil order we were allowed to suck rocks from the playground because “that is what soldiers did in extreme cases of thirst.”  Classical music played at all times during lessons and he implemented student centered learning, independent practice and collaborative projects before these had names and were fashionable.  All of this was in conjunction with “one of the greatest presidents of all time” coming to fruition: Ronald Reagan. The American hostages in Iran were freed, the USA won the gold in hockey, The Cold War was coming to a close with the most powerful nation in the world victorious.   This was my home for 185 days.  And I loved it; we all did.

When two girls walked into the room though, on this day, our world was rocked.  Immediately, before the girls could get seated, Mr. Bouldin boomed “Stacey, Jodi- in the hall, NOW.”  No questions- the girls scuttled into the hall.  He then grabbed “The Board of Education” and stormed out, slamming the door viciously.   Suddenly, we heard yelling- yelling that didn’t quite make sense- screaming and nonsensical accusations.    We heard the girls trying to talk but were drowned by our teacher’s bass voice.  Then, we heard the horrific “SMACK- pause- SMACK” of the paddle.  Then we heard crying and pitiful wailing.

In our room there was bone-chilling silence.  We looked at one another but said nothing; most of us were too scared to move.   I could feel the sweat pooling in my own arm pits.  Finally, a squeak- “What’d they do?”  There were mummers of hearsay that grew from “nothing” to very rapid and rabid accusations of cheating on tests, of mockery, of lying.  Nervously, we looked at each other.  Surely, these girls had done something to deserve such punishment and surely our own innocence would protect each of us from such awful retribution.  When I really look into the abysmal corner of our hearts that day, I find many of us were secretly glad these two were paddled; they were popular, pretty, got all of the attention and all of the “A’s.”  Maybe justice had truly been served.

With that thought, Mr. Bouldin threw open the door and in walked the still petrified sniveling girls.  His voice icy, he asked “People, what did these girls do?” Silence.  He raised his voice another level: “I said ‘tell me what did these girls do?’” There was a bit of head shaking, a bit of mumbling but again, nothing.  The stifling silence.  And with that, Mr. Bouldin coldly delivered the line that haunts me to this day:

“It is 1933 people.  Welcome to Nazi Germany.”

And so began our study of WWII history.

We learned about Hitler’s rise to power and the horrific atrocities of the Nazi’s.  We saw pictures and film of these fiendish acts and I might add, no notes were sent home asking parental permission if such material could be taught and shown to us.  Did it give us nightmares?  Hell yes.  But what stays with me is the look in Mr. Bouldin’s eyes as we sat in silence and watched blindly the persecution of our fellow man.  And that is what he taught us.

Of course we learned the girls were in on the act with him and should have won an academy award that day for their performance as well.   Mr. Bouldin even offered to “Pull down my pants and show you where I hit myself on my own leg,” but luckily, that was not needed.  We believed him.

From that point on, I’d like to say I always made the right choices in my life but I didn’t.  What I can say is that from that point on, I was and am forever mindful of that lesson of that day.  I tried to re-enact it once in my own teaching career but it fell flat for a number of reasons; actually it was quite an embarrassing folly into imitation.  But the number one reason it didn’t work is that there is only one man who could have pulled off this lesson and that man is our 6^th grade teacher, Mr. Robert J. Bouldin, LTC, Ret. Army.

By: Shelley Burgess Lewis – January 27, 2016