Ladies and Gents,We’re Messing With the Wrong Generation!

I was born somewhere between the 80s and 90s.

This was during a time marked by a watershed transitional overlap between the old colonial order and the new world of political freedoms.

But even then, the dawn of political independence did not immediately do away with old practices that characterised the social scaffolding that moulded the children of our time.

We grew up at a time when playing in the streets meant so much more than sitting in front of a computer screen playing GTA, PlayStation or Xbox, or any of these fancy gadgets that characterise the virtual playgrounds of today.

We kicked ball and played house; our girls tucked their skirts in their pants and joined in the games of our times right into the night when Mom would be waiting for us with a rod to spank our backsides into taking a bath before we ate.

We would go to school early in the morning to a principal or teacher sternly standing at attention by the gate, ready to spank our backsides if we were late.

The very same spanking would come for those of us caught littering the school premises, making rowdy noises or failing to get answers right.

The rod and spanking defined our everyday realities, beat us into shape and submission, reinforced structure and authority and ensured results, bringing about a nasty whiff of fear.

Such was the status quo, because we were essentially born during a time when hard work and pain were the formula for success and discipline; there was no time for sweet-talking someone into submission.

And to add insult to injury, the Bible was there to echo such aphorisms as “spare the rod and spoil the child”, and yes, certain teachers became notorious for it; they even earned the respect of our parents.

I remember one day when one of my poorly performing and notoriously naughty classmates had her mom come to school with blood pressure this high, complaining to my teacher about how “impossible Marceline had become”.

There and then, she asked our teacher to “help me get her in shape, and maybe I am not beating her enough!”.

So normal was the spanking that some of us grew thick skin on the palms; we could stare the teacher right in the face as she breathed heavily while bringing that rod down on our open palms.

After about 10 strokes, we could still stick our hands out and say, “Are you done?” and of course, that would lead to much giggling in the classroom and so much fury from the teacher.

But by Grade 11, I had outgrown the very idea that for me to get anything right or to be penalised over some issue, I had to take some dosage of pain.

One day, this lady teacher, fresh from college and in her fourth day of teaching us, called me to the front among some defiant culprits she had caught making noise, and of course, for some spanking.

Clearly, I wasn’t part of that crew; clearly, I had grown enough to understand I had no business disrespecting my teachers and making noise.

Additionally, I was part of the elite best-performing crème de la crème of the class.

Do I mean to show off? Yes, I do mean to show off!

But the beautiful lady teacher did not know this, wanted me to be spanked, and I said, “No, let’s talk”, to which she asked: “Talk about what?”

I said: “About how you’re too beautiful and reasonable looking to handle this situation violently.”

The class sniggered!

She pursed her lips and breathed, clearly not to be flattered by this halfling of a Grade Elevener I was.

Incensed, she raised the rod, brought it hard on my hand, and I grabbed it off her, threw it aside, and said calmly: “Ma’am, some of us are too serious about our lives to come to school just to be spanked, and clearly this is a case of mistaken identity; I do not make noise in this class.”

Did she report me to the principal?

Yes, she did.

The principal knew me very well, asked her to leave the office so “I could deal with this boy”, and the minute she closed the door he said: “She is just new, don’t worry, she will know you better soon.”

Yes, that was that, and he would elect me head of the prefects the following year – a position in which I grew to be a leader.

What I didn’t know in my understandable aloofness was that she had no right to spank anyone at all, that these egregious acts of violence had no place in the entire scheme of things that defined a healthy classroom.

And so, now as the world finds itself on the highway of entrenched globalised children’s rights, it cannot be that violence should be misconstrued as an act of disciplining a child.

The infliction of pain to get results in the direction of behavioural change is torturous in nature, abusive in form, outdated in execution, illegal in law, and wrong morally.

It cannot be that in this century, we have grandmas in parliament in the form and person of that firebrand called Elma Dienda asking the deputy education minister why a teacher had to be fired over “disciplining a child”.

Meme, that child is not yours in the first place, and secondly, your understanding of discipline is shockingly misplaced and out of order.

Protect me, Mr Speaker!

Every teacher who believes that the infliction of pain is the most ideal out of all the options on his or her table on how to deal with misdemeanours does not belong in the classroom.

They must be fired! Thank you, Sanet.

I applaud the ministry for setting this record straight and standing on the side of sanity, children’s rights, healthy teaching and civility in social engineering.

It is for this reason that I find it very absurd that Job Amupanda, a whole doctor and professor, who must know better, should take to the streets to defend a violent teacher.

We know this is all about politics, a ditch-lousy effort by Affirmative Repositioning to get the teachers’ vote ahead of the November elections.

Good luck with that, Doctor Professor!

As we send our children to school, let us as parents educate their whole persons to become ladies and gentlemen of decorum in and out of class, to imbue within them airs of cultural refinement and civility so they can take accountability for their conduct.

It makes teaching easy.

And if I do this as a parent and you lay your hands on my child, I am going to sue you!

I don’t mean to be angry, but yes, I am articulately angry …