Don’t ask how they trapped me because I don’t remember.
For starters, I was sixteen and, to tell the truth, I didn’t think much about
little ones one way or the other.
Now, the above picture of delightful little children in a delightful setting ain’t
exactly what I was up against.
It’s like this.
I had a class of about a dozen or so four- and five-year-olds.
If you were to ask me, “A class of about a dozen or so four- and five-year-
old whats?”
I would be obliged to answer, “Demons. Bloody little monsters.” I could use
much stronger words but decorum prevents me.
These dastardly demons completely changed my attitude about children
from indifferent to total and complete hate.
Attempting to maintain order would have been about the same as telling a
hurricane to keep it down.
What I learned in later years as an Air Force instructor about controlling a
classroom wouldn’t even have worked. Well, it may have worked. The only
problem there is I would have been thrown out of Sunday school. Hell, I
would have been thrown out of the Baptist Church.
There was one incident I well remember.
The little darlings sat at a rectangular table.
A little boy was sitting at one end of the table and a little girl at the other
end. I should mention that the little girl was wearing a white dress.
Well, the little boy (there are other words) suddenly jumped up on the table,
wielding a red crayon as if it were a knife.
The little beast ran down the length of the table. He jumped on the little girl
and stabbed her multiple times.
Needless to say, the little girl was crying and her pretty white dress was
covered with streaks of red.
It was a short career.
