This is a photo from my 1976 school yearbook that might shock people today. Anyone younger than a boomer probably won’t believe this. The photo is captioned “our assistant principal does his job.” What he’s holding was called “the paddle.”
It was made of wood, about 4–5 inches wide, and every public school had one. Although this particular photo was staged, the threat of being paddled was very real. Vice principals could spot misbehavior like detectives and use the paddle like a weapon.
He was the law. There was no discussion, no trial, no call to your parents, no approval needed. You were grabbed by the arm, marched through the halls to the office, and punished for whatever offense you had. Then word spread fast through the school: “So-and-so just got paddled for this or that!” You became somewhat famous—you had joined an unofficial club.
And the big question everyone asked was, “Did it hurt?” Of course, it did.
What could get you paddled? Cursing, smoking, pushing someone, talking back to authority, flipping the bird, mooning someone, or really anything the vice principal thought was wrong.
And here’s the kicker: when you got home and your dad heard what you’d done, you got whipped again! Boomers, tell me I’m wrong.