spare the rod

You can never tell how a day is going to go. Most often, the days I dread are the ones that go swimmingly: the day after break, for example. I imagine many of the students were grateful to be back-- they seemed hungry for the work, and I spent most of the day blissfull, the silence broken only by the scratches of writing utensils on paper. I can only imagine what their Christmases were like, that they come back with such a willingness to work. On days like this, I feel like the best teacher in the world-- flawless transitions, hitting em out of the park. Yet despite planning, good days and bad are often unpredictable, and the only trend I've noted is that they generally alternate; knock on wood. This morning a puppy wandered into my room. The students were all a little afraid of it, as students will be if they grow up around dogs who are dangerous because they are abused. Think of it-- in Africa, they thought I was magic because my dog would follow me closely and obey my commands. It wasn't understood that this was simply because I fed Rufus and gave him attention instead of beating him and feeding him whiskey. This paddling is stupid. It's barbaric, it's ineffective, it's lazy, and it's damaging to children. Violence begets violence. It's not the physical pain I object to. It's the idea that hitting somebody never solved anything. Nobody ever learned a lesson at the end of a paddle. It makes me sad to think of 'grown folk' treating children this way. Dogs, when beaten, become dangerous. What should keep me from the conclusion that children are the same way?