Ole Oscar P. and The Designated Paddle.

After missing our 35th Class reunion, I thought about this short story and decided to post it.

I got word today that Mr. Boyles, also known as “Ole Oscar”, head disciplinarian at Lithia Springs High School (my alma mater), passed away today, April 17th, 2011. I had to stop and take a few minutes to relay a funny story concerning the author and Mr. Boyles during my stay at Lithia Springs High…well, funny to me I guess, not so funny to Mr. Boyles. I guess the best way to describe our relationship was “Hunter and Hunted” with yours truly being the furry one with antlers . Mr Boyles and I had what one might call "an adversarial relationship", why, I’m not completely sure, but he was out to get me. I had numerous friends, close buddies, who had suffered under the tyranny of the massive paddle Mr. Boyles offered as an alternative to 50 page themes doled out for punishment administered for various sorts of in-school felonies. Everything from chronic tardies to cutting class, disrespecting a teacher or fighting with a future best friend, any and all of it ultimately was settled with either Oscar's paddle or your ink pen and fifty pages.

I knew one thing for sure, Mr. Boyles had it in for me and I had no idea why. My Junior year and LSHS’s first year open as a school, I became aware of Mr. Boyles presence. I remember being at an orientation of sorts before that year started, during two a day football practices. I recall Oscar (what we all called him behind his back) coming to lecture us athletic types in the locker room after a long hot humid day on the gridiron. I vividly recall being exceptionally tired and irritated while he was busy giving his “Thar’s a new Sheriff in town…and his name is Oscar Boyles” speech and not being either impressed nor concerned. My dad gave me the one reason I needed to never, ever be a pain in someone’s, anyone’s ass as far as school was concerned, and that reason was this: because he damn well said so. I do remember not paying full attention to Oscar, breaking eye contact and glancing out the window silently vowing to not ever cross his path nor darken his door for purposes other than to say “Hi”. I looked back at him just as he said something about us not being treated special just because we were athletes, and him staring at me and asking if I understood him. My simple answer was ” sound’s like you passed English class, sir, and I understood you perfectly” followed by numerous laughs from my teammates. His face turned beet red and he gave me a look like he wished my mom could retroactively fill an infants grave with my carcass in it. I really wasn’t trying to be a wise ass, but I was tired and it was hot, and his singling me out just fell on me wrong. Difference was, he was in charge of ass whuppin’s and 50 page themes and you did not want to be on his radar. All of a sudden I realized I was a large blip on his screen and he had a long memory, one I’d soon bear witness to.

For the entirety of my junior year including every time I’d round a corner, there he’s be…eyeballin’ me like I had gone on a secret date with his best friends daughter. If I stepped out of a classroom to take a leak, he’d be right there checking my credentials and talking in that same disgusted voice I’d recognized when Ward Cleaver, Beaver’s dad on “Leave it to Beaver” would address Eddie Haskell on any level. I think I even got a rash of crap from him for having a miscellaneous penalty in a football game for mercy’s sake. I’m just kidding of course, but I realized he had it in for me. I guess the “we both passed English” comment landed on him wrong and he held a grudge. I did managed to get through my junior year with no trips to his office. I had a close call one time, accidentally calling a certain teacher who it was rumored was a Sears underwear model and a little effeminate by the nick-name every student called him behind his back. I did have to go to the office for that infraction, but luckily Oscar was on vacation that week and his surrogate wasn't in it for the money. I got a quick parent teacher conference accompanied by an apology from me and that was that. Mr. Boyles did corner me post vacation and tell me how lucky I was that he was gone that week. I asked him what in the world I had done to offend him so, and he got red-faced and wide-eyed all over again, mumbling something about wise-assed kids and lack of respect these days. Let me make this clear, I addressed him with respect when he addressed me, because it was the  way I was raised. All of my friends were raised respectful also. Even the “bad” kids.

My senior year rolled around and me and my senior buddies thought we were kings of the world. We had our minds made up that we “owned” our last year in school, meaning we were going to create some serious mischief with the freshmen class being our target. We did the standard stuff, handing out "swirlies" to the freshman football players, wedgies, sturnups and grundies by the dozen, water balloons (or any balloons filled with liquid) and general hazing as we saw fit. We managed to figured out how to get all the way on top of the school via the press box that looked out over the future football field and the current basketball court. There was a hidden door and we managed to sneak a key from our football coaches office to gain entry to the elevated position where we could do all manner of good and evil, depending on where you were currently standing I guess. Our favorite activity was to get trash cans full of water and dump them on the freshmen boys gym class while we were supposed to be having gym class ourselves. We threw numerous items upon the unwitting heads of those poor chaps, some that I cannot repeat here as some of the liquids were downright unpleasant. We’d do our deed and haul ass out from the roof of the gym heading straight to our coaches office to discuss football games and strategy, about the time Oscar would come stormin’ in thinking he was catching his man…or men. One of our coaches, Coach Davis, was a defensive coach and he always covered for us, lying to Oscar like a seasoned pro. Oscar’d quiz us as he walked out the door while Coach Davis shooed him out like a house cat underfoot, much to Mr. Boyles displeasure.

Wednesday brings more mayhem, check back then!