By December we wondered if all the hype was true. Everyone said Mrs. Harper was a strapper, but we hadn’t yet witnessed her in action. Oh we heard all the stories. Smalltown legends of other kids, other years. The kid who got the strap because he threw Kathy Tuik’s shoe in the toilet. The kid who drew a penis on the blackboard. And once, she lined up four girls and strapped them one after the other because they forgot to write their name on their spelling test.
Mrs. Harper taught grade 3 and was married to Mr. Harper who taught grade 8. She was two heads taller and twice as wide as her husband. He was a strapper too.
Anyway, everything changed on the last day of school before winter break. Mrs. Harper’s desk was at the back of the classroom and we were instructed to line up while she sat and cut the corners from corrected pages in our Think and Do workbooks. Much of the thinking and doing in those workbooks involved circling ‘T’ or ‘F.’
- This story is true, but all the names have been changed. T F
- The United States and Singapore still allow strapping. T F
Each time she discovered someone forgot to circle an answer, the skin of Mrs. Harper’s thick neck quivered when she emphasized, “T or F. True or false. Circle it.”
Carl Sager was standing in line ahead of me. When it was his turn with Mrs. Harper, he said he forgot his workbook at home.
“Are you sure it’s not in your desk?”
Carl answered, “Yes.”
Mrs. Harper warned Carl he’d better be telling the truth. Then she sent him home to get his workbook.
Carl was one of 12 kids—10 boys and twin girls—and they lived about a 10-minute walk from the school, in an older brick house on Main Street. The kids all played together and did chores and weeded the garden in a fenced back yard. They made a lot of noise out there, but it wasn’t a bad kind of noise. Eventually, as they moved through the grades in our smalltown school, they all garnered nicknames. Carl’s was Moose.
- Smalltown people who don’t live on Main Street pick on kids who do. T F
- The moose is a symbol of strength, pride, and life. T F
Carl went home and was back in 20 minutes. Without his workbook. He said he couldn’t find it.
- Carl didn’t really go home. He hid in the boot room for 20 minutes. T F
Pretty soon Mrs. Harper was towering over Carl as he emptied everything from his desk. Crumpled notebooks, scrunched-up papers, a bottle of hardened LePage’s glue, and there it was. Level 3 Think and Do.
Mrs. Harper picked up Carl’s workbook, stomped back to her desk and told Carl to “Come back here right now mister.” When she saw he hadn’t done any corrections, she spoke loudly, to all of us.
“Grade three. Carl lied. He said he forgot his workbook at home but it was in
his desk. And on top of that, he didn’t do his corrections. How many of you think Carl deserves to get the strap? Put your hand up if you think Carl should get the strap.”
We all looked back at Mrs. Harper. And at Carl, standing beside her desk.
- No one put their hand up. T F
Her chair scraped across linoleum tiles as Mrs. Harper stood, then charged to the front of the classroom. When she passed by, I heard her legs rubbing in her thick beige stockings. Her white orthopedic shoes made a rubbery clunking sound.
She asked again. “Grade three. How many of you think Carl should get the strap? Put your hands up.” She paused, scanned the rows of 8-year-olds.
- Maybe some kids might have put their hands up. T F
- The mind can block out troubling details. T F
“Well. Carl. Your classmates have decided.” Mrs. Harper marched back to her desk, opened a small side drawer and pulled out the strap. It was about as long as a ruler and grey tweed. Like a belt.
I turned to face the front. Some kids looked back to watch. Tony Carenza smirked. A few of the girls cried. David Turner, who sat in front of me, threw up into his cupped hands. Me? I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew what was happening was wrong. I think we all knew.
- A moose will bellow when in distress. T F
- Mrs. Harper is dead now. T F
Wanda Hurren is an alumna of the Banff Centre Writing Studio and a recipient of the Malahat Review Open Season award for short fiction and their WordsThaw prize for micro text. Wanda has been teaching for 45 years and through her writing, she continues to attempt to ‘correct’ the world. She has never strapped a student.
Image Credit: Flickr Creative Commons/Melanie
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