One of my favorite

television programs is "King of the Hill." Yes, it's a cartoon,

but it's still better that most of the fare that is served up on the tube

these days.

Anyway, the

other day the story centered on Peggy Hill, a substitute teacher of Spanish,

who got into serious hot water for spanking an unruly child. The kid in

the story was in the fifth or sixth grade, Peggy got fired (then reinstated)

and gained a reputation as "Paddling Peggy Hill." Everything

ended well, but the show did bring up some old memories.

Mrs. Ferris

was the sixth grade-teacher at Dickson Elementary School in Kingsport,

Tenn., when I arrived to start that memorable year. My mother also attended

Dickson from about 1932 until about 1940 and then went on to Sullivan

High School. Dickson was eventually closed and Sullivan became a middle

school years later.

I don't know

how this came about but, somehow, Allen Castle and I entered into a contest

that would get us into tons of trouble. I had never received many paddlings

in school up to that point. In fact, I was probably one of the best-behaved

boys in the school. And they did, indeed, paddle at Dickson Elementary.

In fact, paddling seemed to be the first response, rather than the last

resort.

There was an

added incentive to avoid being paddled after the discipline had been administered,

the school would call the parents. Most of the dads I knew would administer

a second spanking to the errant child that evening. A "double whammy,"

of sorts.

With all that

in mind, it seems, in retrospect, a terribly stupid move for Allen and

I to compete in a "paddling contest." The rules were simple:

the one with the most "licks" at the end of the year won the

contest. Poor Mrs. Ferris never knew what hit her.

Normally a

very sweet and gentle woman, Allen and I pushed her to the limits of her

tolerance. Although she tried "time out," removal of privileges,

and writing sentences on the board, nothing seemed to work with Allen

and me (and no, it's not supposed to be "Allen and I." It would

drive Mrs. Ferris nuts to see how many people these days use such incorrect

grammar). So, her patience exhausted, she would reach for the board. Most

spankings were three licks, although when she thought I shot her in the

behind with a pea shooter during class Joe Barker did that, not me she

tore into my backside with five very hard and enthusiastic licks.

Sometime after

Easter break, Allen and I were tied with 54 licks. I think that's around

the time she caught on that something was up. A week or so later, Allen

and I were acting up in class, trying to break the tie, when she grabbed

us and marched us to the vice principal's office.

This was very,

very bad news. Mr. Hendrix, in addition to being the vice principal, was

the school's basketball coach, was built like a football lineman, and

did not suffer fools gladly. It was reported that, if you ever wound up

in Mr. Hendrix's office, all hope was lost.

Without waiting

for our explanation, Mr. Hendrix said, "I don't know what's up with

you two, but I'm going to put an end to it. Bend over and grab your ankles."

He then picked up the biggest paddle I had ever seen. It must have been

a foot long, six or eight inches wide, and it had about a dozen holes

drilled in it.

When the first

lick hit, I thought I was going to pass out. This was not Mrs. Ferris!

He hit my bottom so hard, I thought he was going to knock my teeth out!

Although I was sure the paddling had gone on for half an hour, he only

gave me three licks. Then it was Allen's turn.

After it was

over, he said, "The next time you come in here, I'll double the number

of licks. Now get