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Five Days of Intermissions – Day One

He always showed up in my office, brought in by an angry teacher. We’d have a chat, he’d solemnly promise to be good, and off he’d go. One day it was different…

Day One

Getting the day’s work done is impossible, because remembering everything that needs to be done is hopeless. After a busy day, I have no recollection what I did or what I didn’t do. Is the phrase “busy day” being used correctly? Instead of uselessly writing about the business of my day, which doesn’t come to mind right now, I’ll write about the “intermissions” which tend to be more memorable.

Day One Intermission

A Naughty Boy
A refusal to correct is a refusal to love;
love your children by disciplining them
Proverbs 13:24
MSG

A certain boy in the school was continually brought to my office to deal with his wayward behaviour. As Principal, all ill-mannered students arrived in my office, often just entering into it was enough to make them cry in fear. I knew why that was so, and felt bad about that; I didn’t have a strict bone in my body. It was the parents and teachers who put such fear into the students.

That boy regularly came to me. He’d sit in a chair directly across from me while I sat at my desk. I’d question him about his misdemeanour, we’d have a little chat, he’d promise to be good, and afterwards he’d happily be on his way back to class. He enjoyed being in the office. I began to wonder why? It happened repeatedly.

One day, a teacher came and asked me to come to her class for the same boy was mis-behaving. I trotted off with her. Indeed, he was running around the classroom. I gave him a scolding and as usual, told him not to do it. He agreed. I turned to go, but as I turned, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him facing me with his thumbs in his ears and the palms of his hands wagging up and down. I whipped myself around and caught him with his tongue sticking out at me as well. I thought to myself, this is enough!

I yanked him out of the classroom and shoved up against a wall outside the door. Even that much was quite a surprise to him. Then, in as threatening a voice as I could muster, I bellowed, but in a whisper, “In our school, teachers are not allowed to hit students… I hesitated for the punch line, “but I’m not a teacher!” It was very satisfying to see his eyes go wide and his jaw drop open —I hoped that this time I’d made an impact!

A week later he was back in my office again, smiling broadly. He’d missed me. Acting up gave him the privilege of visiting with me. It was clear, this little boy just needed love, and someone who cared enough to correct and input his life was love to him.

As mother and principal; discipline is LOVE.

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