The day Ed Dyson paddled some sense into me

So, I read in our paper – front page, top story – Houston Healthcare dedicated their cafeteria to Ed Dyson. 

To him – aimed in the direction of heaven: “Congratulations, sir!”

Back to you the reader: Ed Dyson and I go way back. We’re kindred spirits, brothers in arms. (He would be puzzled: “Who are you again?”) Sorta. You see. Ed Dyson, the principal at Northside High School at the time, paddled my butt when I was a junior in high school.

In fact, he was the only one to paddle my behind, which, as I look back, is plenty shocking. I mean, there were the time(s) I shot spitballs at a teacher. There were the times I wrote profanities on the chalkboard when a teacher left the class. There were the times I pounded the erasers together over a teacher’s desk. There was the teacher who told me to “pop him upside the head” referring to a student sleeping in front of me. So, I popped him upside the head. It’s plenty telling – if not, more evidence is coming – what an absolute fool I was at that point in my life. And if not, here’s yet one more example. The student sleeping in front of me just happened to be a football player, and when he stood up I quickly realized he was probably the tallest, and most in shape, player on the team! (Think: David and Goliath. Only Goliath would have been in the right to pummel me.) Bottom line: The teacher almost cost me my life that day. (So that one’s at least on him.)

And on they went. Incident after incident. If not for the fact I also slept most of my sophomore and the aforementioned junior years away there would be more. (Senior year was a different story, I’ll explain it later.) (Note: For a guy who liked girls, and man I liked girls, I’m supposing there was nothing more sexy than to see me wake up with drool running down the side of my face. Or to see the big pool I had left behind on my desk and/or book. Bonus if I had been snoring, which I suspect was the case from some of the looks.) 

At any rate. The only reason I didn’t get paddled for all of those I mentioned is because I didn’t get caught. The Ed Dyson encounter was for when I did.

To them: “Ah Mr. Lord (can’t remember his first name). I don’t know if you’re still alive, but if you’re up there in heaven with Mr. Dyson and looking down and reading this, please forgive me. I am so sorry for the torture, the grief, the anxiety, the blood pressure medicine I’m sure you had to have after having me in your class. I am so very sorry!” (A sincere apology I really wish I could give him.)

Back to you: In my defense – there’s actually very little to offer, it’s more of an excuse. I was under heavy bad influence from my friends. “A person who has friends may be harmed by them …” – Proverbs 18:24. They knew I was a sucker. A fool. If they said I wouldn’t do it, then they knew it was guaranteed I would try. “The prudent see danger and hides himself, but the simple go on and suffer for it. – Proverbs 22:3. Yep. 

On this particular occasion I was dared to put a firecracker in his drawer. They gave me the firecracker. They gave me the match. I waited for when the timing was right. He turned his back to write on the chalkboard. I made my move. I got to his desk. I lit the fuse. I put it in his desk. It went off. It scared him half to death, spinning like a top, his face – as it often did under my dirty work – red as a beet. It scared me, too! Especially considering the fact I hadn’t even taken one step in the opposite direction. Caught red handed.

“Go to the principal’s office now!”

I turned to leave, but not before turning my head and giving a sly smile – one that was soon to be erased – to my comrades in arms. 

I walked in. He asked me what happened. Still cocky, still full of pride – I know he could hear it in my voice – I told him.

“Put your hands on the desk.”

It was at that moment a hint of panic began to form. I don’t know why I didn’t think it could turn out any other way, but I was still too naïve/stupid to think it wouldn’t. I remember thinking, now with confidence leaving out the side door, “So, we’re going to do this.” “Yes, fool,” panic said. “He’s going to do this!”

He reached into his drawer and pulled out the longest wood paddle I’d ever seen. (Not that I’d seen many wood paddles. My daddy was a “belt” guy.)

When I was stationed in England it was tradition to give you a cricket paddle – with everybody signing – as a going away present. In my imagination now it was that big. In reality it probably wasn’t, but I know for a fact it had holes in it and even a fool can figure out the law of aerodynamics. That there was a reason. Aerodynamics! (I also remember thinking the wood shop guy was a sadist (too big a word for my limited vocabulary back then, probably “monster”).

The memory is a fickle thing, I know, but this one’s ingrained so I’m pretty sure it can hold water. He took a golfer’s stance. Judging on the time it took from when he was in position to when the clock first struck midnight, I would guess he took a golfer’s swing, too. Let me tell you something. That swat lifted me to my toes like a ballerina. I was still trying to be a tough guy, but tough guy could not do anything about the tears that had now begun to well up in his eyes. It hurt like h … e … double hockey pucks!

He got me three more times. I’m telling you he didn’t just get me. He lit me up! I might still have the polka dots scars on my backside to prove it. (Not really.)

“You show up in my office again, it’ll be six. Now go back to class.”

“The rod and reproof give wisdom.” – Proverbs 29:15. “Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, but a rod of discipline drives it far from.”

I wish I could tell you Ed Dyson turned my life around that day. Truth is it took Jesus to do that. That’s the reference to my senior year. It was a complete opposite. I graduated and went on to become who I am today. 

But I’ll tell you this. The days of that sort of mischief were over. I was not going back there again!

They named a cafeteria after him. I know why. He was such a good man and deserved such a distinguished honor. Thousands have been “touched” by him only in “different” ways. I know he gave me some serious food for thought.