Freshly Spanked

Freshly Spanked
You know what happens next young lady!
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Before and after her spanking. June 11, 2022 With 3 comments
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Corporal punishment: I was spanked, and I'm OK with it
Corporal punishment: I was spanked, and I'm OK with it
Spanking kids early on may cause years of damage
A new study finds that spanking children at an early age can negatively impact child development for years to come. Here's how.
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I was spanked as a child, in school and at home, and I’m OK with it.
I fully expect to see some push-back after writing that sentence, but listen: it was not at all traumatizing to my elementary school-aged self, and I never, ever, felt like I was abused by my teachers or my parents.
Believe it or not, I feel like my experiences with corporal punishment helped make me a better person. Don’t worry, I’ll explain this in greater detail later, but first, before we really dive into it, let me tell you a little bit about me.
I’m an Alabama native who grew up in Dickson County. I attended public schools there from first grade through 12th, and I graduated from Dickson County Senior High School in 1999.
My children, five-year-old twins, are enrolled in Robertson County Schools. They’re Kindergartners. I was not much older than they are now when I walked into Oakmont Elementary School for the first time.
Those familiar with Dickson County Schools may remember that Dickson Junior High, now Dickson Middle, had an annex for seventh graders back in the day. That’s the old Oakmont. It’s where I started school in 1986, and it’s where I had both of my experiences with corporal punishment.
I was six-years-old and in the first grade the first time I was paddled in school.
I remember being in class and working on an assignment. I was into it, so I barely noticed my teacher get up from her desk. Next thing I know, she’s standing in front of me.
Apparently, my neighbor was copying my paper, and I had no idea it was happening.
Instead of just punishing the neighbor, she decided to punish us both. Her reason for punishing me, she told me, was that I should have realized what was happening and put a stop to it. Instead, I was enabling my neighbor.
I didn’t agree with her decision to paddle me then, and I don’t agree with it now, but I will admit that I did learn a valuable lesson from the experience. From that day on, I was more aware of my surroundings, and later, when someone tried to copy my paper again, I stopped it.
My second paddling came one year later, in second grade.
This time, I was completely at fault, and I deserved what I got, at school and at home.
More than 30 years have passed, and I can still see him. He was a tiny thing, and one day, he had an upset stomach, which led to an unfortunate accident on the playground. I pitied him but never said so. After the incident, this little boy was the subject of jokes and gossip. It wasn’t fair, but my seven-year-old mind didn’t recognize it at the time.
So, when I found myself seated across the table from him one day while we were eating lunch in the cafeteria, I tried my level best to ignore him.
He seemed intent on talking to me, though. Love his heart.
Soon, the other kids started whispering about us, and to prove I didn’t like him, I poured chocolate milk all over his mashed potatoes. It was wrong. And I would later apologize and mean it.
In this case, it wasn't the spanking that made the biggest impact. It was the expression on my teacher’s face when she saw what I did. I adored her, and I’d disappointed her. It was too much.
Technically, what I did could be considered an act of bullying, but back then, things were different. Getting “picked on” at school was “part of growing up,” according to the grown-ups in my life, and it happened to me more than once.
The first time I was in second grade. If memory serves, it wasn’t long after the milk incident and my second paddling. Coincidence, maybe? But, I got to a point where I could no longer see the blackboard, so I went to the eye doctor and I ended up in glasses. The minute I returned to school, I became “four eyes.” I owned it, so the name-calling didn’t last long.
I was 13, and there was a popular teacher who designated Friday as game day in his classroom. One of our favorites was volleyball, played at our desks. He’d string a net across the center of the room, dividing the desks in half, and we’d all face each other and play.
One Friday, I was wearing black and white – black jeans, white shirt – and my hair bow got tangled in the net as I was making my way to my desk. I’m sure this teacher thought it was a harmless joke at the time, but he called out, “Free Willy, she’s stuck in the net.”
Kids can be cruel when given the proper ammunition, and boy, did they have it in my case. I’ve never been what you would call skinny, and up until that moment, it hadn’t bothered me. But, being compared to a killer whale was nothing short of devastating, and as a teenager, I struggled with diets and self-esteem.
Eventually, I came to the realization that the only opinion that really mattered was my own, and I decided to love myself no matter my size. It wasn’t easy. It took YEARS, but I got there.
Today, I’m a mother. I’m a wife. I’m a daughter, an aunt. I’m a college graduate and a writer. I like to think I’ve got my act together, for the most part. Everyone has bad days – you’re lying if you say otherwise.
I was spanked – twice in school and more than that at home. Most of the time, I deserved it, and I learned from it. I wouldn’t be the person I am today – driven, goal-oriented and confident in my own skin – without my collective experiences.
I am not a victim, and I will argue tooth and nail with anyone who claims otherwise.
I had strict parents who did the best they could to raise me the right way.
I’m grateful. I’m glad I'm their daughter.
Reach Nicole Young at 615-306-3570 or nyoung@tennessean.com.

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