One of the most recent examples occurred when a University Teacher dealing with the issue of Ethics mentioned in passing that some people today believe abortion to be morally wrong even though it is legally permitted.
Naturally, the Teacher was immediately fired while several of his students were placed on a combination of smelling salts - oxygen therapy to recover from the trauma caused by his intemperate remarks.
Poor Little Dears.
Before I go further into this piece I want to make it perfectly clear that I have the utmost respect and admiration for our Millennials.
The ones I know and hear about are hardworking and remarkably good-natured despite having to hold down numerous..often menial.. jobs and work long hours.
Rather, my focus today is on our Institutions of Learning which are pedaling nonsense and drivel when it comes to Politically Correct Thought (PCT).
And in doing so, I am going back to my youth in the days before PCT.
We started our school experience in grade 1... that is to say, before the days of daycare schooling, (aka 4 & 5 year old kindergarten).
The school yard was a battle zone - we kids had to prove our toughness. Ripped Shirts and Bloody Noses were de-rigueur.
Even in the lower grades corporal punishment flourished.
I remember our Grade 3 and 4 Teacher who did not hesitate to use her weapon of choice - a yard stick... now known as a metre stick.
I remember three in particular who were regular recipients of her wrath...Ralphy, Jimmy and Kenny.
The reason they stick out to me all these years later is because each one had a different approach to their pending punishment.
The dastardly deed was administered out of sight of the main class taking place as it did in the cloakroom walled off behind the teacher's desk at the front.
Ralphy would always be crying when he began his perpetrator's walk. When he came out though, his tears had miraculously changed into a big smile.
Jimmy was the exact opposite - he went in laughing and came out crying.
And finally, Kenny. Kenny went to his fate with a stone face and came out the other side with that self-same visage. Kenny was tough which I respected even then.
Those were the days when the real strap - a version of a Barber's Leather Belt used to sharpen razors - was administered efficiently by our School's Principal.
Although I never did receive whacks from either the yard stick or the Principal's strap... I once came close. I was caught fighting an older student at recess and the two of us were hauled unceremoniously into the Principal's office. Our Principal had one of those looks that instilled terror in the hearts of the most intrepid so I fully expected that our meeting would not end well ...but it did.
He gave us a dressing down ...but no strap.
It took a while before my knees stopped shaking.
And what did our parents say about all of this?
Why nothing of course since none of us were dumb enough to let them in on our misadventures.
As we progressed into the higher grades - 6, 7 and 8 the punishment changed... at least by the male teachers.
They would simply grab you by the scruff of the neck and launch you across the room. Boys only...since I cannot recall a Girl ever being manhandled so.
And from what I understand, the manhandling was even greater in the previous century if Mr. Hodges was to be believed. In grade 11 I worked in Donny's Menswear where at the back of the store a partition shielded from sight a number of leather chairs. It was there that retirees like Mr. Hodges - then in his eighties, would wile-away the hours smoking and reminiscing about bygone years.
Some like Mr. Hodges smoked cigars which was probably why business at Donny's was not brisk ... the clothes on sale were all drenched in smoke.
He would recall with humour the discipline meted out by his notorious Principal / Teacher - Smith Langdon. Their's was a one room school house situated north of our village. Apparently it was not unusual for Langdon to physically throw his students...including Mr. Hodges from time to time... from inside the classroom, out the door and well into the school yard for the slightest transgression.
Unfortunately for Mr. Hodges, Smith Langdon was one of Donny's regular customers. Well into his 90's, he stood ramrod straight and towered over 6 feet in height.
On the days that Langdon came into the store I would carefully watch Mr. Hodges' reaction: he would first sit up straight and then extinguish his cigar. The colour would fade from his face with his usual smile long gone.
I felt sorry for the guy... Mr. Hodges that is.
His reaction made me thankful for the state of discipline in my own school some 60+ years later.
By the time I reached High School (grades 9 to 13) in the 1960s, the discipline had moved beyond the corporal and had morphed into standing outside the classroom or the ubiquitous detention.
Again, even with this more humane approach, our parents were given no place in this...at least by us. Had we included our parents they would have sided with our Teachers and we'd have been in even more trouble.
In the face of this, what continues to encourage me is what I mentioned at the beginning of this Blog...Millennials, when faced with the realities of life, post their education, appear to be adapting quite well.
As such, I believe there is hope for our Society yet.
As I see it...
'K.D. Galagher'
