“Foolishness is bound in the hearts of children; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from them.”
-Proverbs. 22:15-
REPORT CARD DAY!
“Line up, single file, clothes off, report cards open, move your a**es!” It was Report Card day November 1959. Our small family of four (Mom, my two brothers, and I) lived in the heart of the Englewood neighborhood on Chicago’s south side. Englewood then was a microcosm of all that’s bad in black America now. ‘Momma Rose’ our elderly landlady, owned our three storey brick walk up on 65th and Normal. My family stayed on the 3rd floor with a window that overlooked the alley where eight teen girls were gang raped one hot prom night a year earlier. Mr. ‘S’ and his family lived below us. He had the largest pornographic book collection I’ve ever seen! Our landlady lived on the 1st floor and a young woman who almost bled to death from a do-it-yourself abortion lived in the basement.
My mother was a short woman. She wore short her hair flaming red and didn’t take BS from any man, woman, or child. Mom + May she rest in peace + often said “if your name ain’t Jesus Christ who you?” She handled the human race accordingly. Mom was all business. That cold blistery report card day was her version of the Last Judgment. At the end of each term she’d line us up single file buck naked. She’d sit cross legged on the toilet seat (lid down) like a proud Egyptian queen. Holding a wet electric extension cord in one hand she’d examine our report cards with her other hand. Each ‘F’ grade was met with a sharp stinging swat or two from the wet cord that would bite into our exposed skins like a hot knife through warm butter. As I remember she said this was her version of the Mexican Hat Dance and dance we did!
In the post World War II era of the 1950’s the term child abuse was largely unknown. When it came to our education Mom’s motto was “If you don’t learn nothin’ in that school I’ll kill ya!” Heaven help us if we dared turn up failing grades. When angered she was fond of saying “Leave you heart to GOD and your a** to me!” or “You mess with me and I’ll ‘whup’ you ’till a hymn come to ya!‘” I should know. I was a regular recipient of her special brand of ‘physical’ education that always came at the receiving end of a long switch, razor strap, or wet extension cord. A born rebel I was always in trouble at school or in the neighborhood. My body would glisten from dark greenish red welts I’d receive from whatever instrument of pain she employed at the time she was mad at me.
When we got older we moved to the ‘Projects’ (Robert R. Taylor Housing Projects). Once there my younger brother stole a Snickers candy bar from a local supermarket. The store manager caught him in the act detained him until the police arrived. An officer brought him home. Mom went ballistic! She snatched him from the officer, threw him on the ground, grabbed a belt, and whipped him good! The poor man’s in his 60’s. He’s still traumatized from Mom’s beating. To this day he never goes near that chain store. Mom ‘put the fear of GOD‘ in him. Since then I don’t think he’s even received as much as a serious traffic citation. You see Reader my Mom had a certain way of making her authority felt; you got out of line she kicked your butt.
When it comes to parental discipline black-Creole women (Think: Dr. Phil’s ‘Hot Sauce Mom.’) prefer to ‘chestize’ (chastise harshly) their children to save them from the racist, insensitive and overburdened American criminal justice system. The lock-step method of the 1950’s kept kids in school, in church, and out of prison. ‘Mother Dorothy’ raised all three (a forth son died in infancy) of us on her own. Our step-dad was in and out of prison and our two other biological fathers were busy making babies with other women.
Democracy wasn’t an option in our family; times were tough, the environment toxic, and racism rampant. Mom did what she had to do to get the job done. As a result of her harsh parenting we’re all well paid professionals, politically active, and practicing Catholic-Christians. Our adult children hold university degrees, make great money, and still attend Mass. Our grandchildren are on school Honor Rolls. Mom was a master at what she did. If we had more like her serious crime in America would soon fade in to obscurity.
What’s considered child abuse today were standard disciplinary practices a generation ago for many American families regardless of race, religion and ethnicity. The methods used ‘back in the day’ if employed now would land a lot of parents in jail, anger management classes, family therapy, or verbally attacked on liberal talk shows. Asian-American parents raise scholars. African-American parents raise warriors. ‘Tiger Mom’ has nothing on my mom.
TIGER MOM
Dr. Amy Chua-Rubenfeld (‘Tiger Mom’) the controversial Yale University law professor/author’s child rearing methods strike many Americans as abusive. Yelling, threatening to trash their toys, and name calling is a bit harsh. Oddly enough Professor Chua’s methods aren’t unique. The priest who presided at my first marriage is German. At a social gathering he said when he was an infant his mother would bundle him up, position him outside in cold weather and leave him there for a few minutes to ‘toughen him up.’ A long time Italian-American colleague told me how his father used to leave him limping in pain from beatings. What about ex-California Gov. Arnold Swartzenegger? In a Time Magazine article if I remember correctly he said when he was a boy it was considered normal for parents to routinely beat to their kids in his native Austria. I saw a road sign in Quezon City, Philippines advising parents that when they beat their children to make sure that the beatings were deserved. That sign cautioned parents against crossing the line from discipline to abuse. Chua’s method of parenting isn’t that big of a deal in other cultures. It worked in our home.
ASIAN-AMERICAN PARENTING
From my observations Asian-American children are well behaved at home and in public. Unlike many whites and black homes where kids run amok under the guise of ‘individual freedom,’ Asians believe that young children should be just that-children though their playful worlds end at school age. As with the Chua family, academic excellence and good behavior is expected from Asian-American children.
Most Asian youngsters are loved and study well. Their parents take a tough love stance in preparing them to weather life’s future storms. As a retired teacher I never had any Asian-American parents storm my classroom to ‘punch me out’ though on occasions I’ve had a few black parents ‘swing’ at me at teacher-parent conferences.
LET THERE BE LOVE.
Most parents love their children and want the best for them. Corporal punishment despite harsh criticism to the contrary is a legitimate form of discipline. Child abuse results when parents exceed the bonds of proper physical punishment. Case in point: if a child reports to class after being spanked at home and complains of a ‘sore butt’ but otherwise okay that’s corporal chastisement; if that child appears in class limping, black and bruised that’s child abuse; call 911.
My mother told me of an incident when growing up in her native New Orleans during the Depression. A close relative placed a hot knife on her tongue to punish her for lying. Crossing the line from discipline to brutality leaves lasting scars on children that take decades if ever to heal. Most abusers were abused when they were children. Popular television shows like the Dr. Phil and Oprah Winfrey Shows make physical/mental abuse the staple in their programs.
In this writer’s opinion strict parenting is a definite plus in today’s permissive society. Which ever methods parents choose must be tempered by love the primary ‘ingredient’ in all relationships or else its all for naught.
“Always end the name of your child with a vowel, so that when you yell the name will carry.”
-Bill Cosby-