When my dad went to school
he knew the Brother would beat him.
The ruler would rap down across
his small knuckles
once for every spelling mistake.
He knew he’d always make a mistake.
He knew he’d be beaten.
It didn’t make him study,
it just made him drag his feet
on the way to school,
meant education was painful
meant inadequacy
and brutality
were part of every day.
It didn’t make him speed up
that he’d be whipped
for tardiness
either.
During lessons,
he watched boys fly
across the room
propelled by the fury
of the Christian Brothers
who didn’t understand
much about children,
faith
kindness
or the golden rule.
Dad kept his head down,
nursed sore
knuckles and learned
how not to treat children.
.
.
Happy Birthday to my dad, who celebrates his 99th birthday today!
One more year until the official greeting from the Queen!
PS. Dad attended parochial school in Montreal in the 1920s.
Shawn L. Bird 