“Modern schools use computer programs for misbehavior issues. When I was in school, rebooting bad behavior with a paddle worked faster than a software update.”
— Source unknown, but I’ll give it an “amen.”
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“Special education,” answered one of the long-timers group last week. We meet occasionally for solving the world’s problems. And coffee.
The corresponding question arose during discussion on news accounts about declining performance and rising violence in public schools, and what to do about them.
“It’s not called special education anymore,” someone quickly corrected. “These days, it’s called somethin’ like Specialized Academic Instruction.”
“No-o-o,” groaned the first. “I’m talking about a special kind of educational tool that’s sadly missing from today’s classrooms.”
“I think he’s talking about the ‘board of education,’” I chimed in.
“The school board?” another asked.
I laughed amid the comedic confusion. “You guys sound like ‘Who’s on First.’ Listen, problems in public education began when two things were removed from the classroom. I don’t remember today’s issues arising years ago when we were in school up in Mount Pleasant. What I do remember is, when it came to learning and discipline, some of us just required, um … ‘additional training.’”
During grade school at South Ward Elementary, teachers like Mrs. Page, Mrs. Beck, Mrs. Edwards, or Mr. Mattingly diligently delivered lessons from textbooks. But occasional deviations from the published curriculum landed a few of us in the principal’s office for an application of that additional training.
“Tommy Milam and Leon Aldridge,” Mrs. Page announced one Spring afternoon just before recess. “You boys remain with me when the bell rings.” After the classroom emptied, she let us know in no uncertain terms that trying to disrupt the class behind her back would not be tolerated and we had just earned a trip to the principal’s office.
Hardin Whitaker was a tall man from the perspective of a grade schooler. His office sat right in the middle of the building — near the front door, the restrooms, and the water fountains. That was likely the result of astute facility planning, since most mischief was primarily perpetrated near the water fountains. Unless it was spit-ball practice behind the teacher’s back.
Regarding school conduct, my father and I had a special agreement. We agreed to it, but I didn’t get a vote. The deal was for every lick I got at school; I got one at home. No questions asked, no excuses, and my parents never once stormed up to the school to give my teacher “what for.” Because we also agreed the teacher was always right.
As I got older, Dad and I amended our agreement — again, without my vote. That if I were ever arrested, he would not bail me out. Police Chief B.C. Sustaire would keep me overnight, and my father would deal with me at home after I was released. Because Dad taught me the value of respecting authority.
Thankfully, for me, we never tested that last part of the deal. Probably because, by that time, we already understood the principles of respecting authority learned at school.
At school, Mr. Whitaker had his own board of education, aka “additional training” for unruly students. “Boys, you know why you’re here,” he recited, slowly removing his paddle from the desk drawer for us to see. “You are both smart young men, too smart to have behaved badly. I’m certain your parents would not be very proud of you right now.”
We politely agreed.
Rather than the anticipated “Bend over and grab your ankles,” Mr. Whitaker then slapped the palm of his hand with the paddle, resulting in a loud pop that made both Tommy and me flinch.
“You boys think that if I let you go, you could go back to Mrs. Page’s class and behave?”
We politely agreed again.
“Great story,” laughed one of the long-timer’s group. “I bet I know what that other missing from school thing is,” he chuckled. “Prayer.”
“Naw,” I said. “Granted, it was a mistake to remove it verbally. But silent prayer never left the classroom.
“Just ask any student today on test day.”
—Leon Aldridge
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Leon Aldridge is a veteran editor, publisher, and communications professional, currently enjoying semi-retirement while awaiting the next challenge. His columns appear in: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.
© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Feel free to use excerpts with full and clear credit given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling.’
A Story Worth Telling 