Confessions Of A Child Abuser
Oh boy. If you're an old fart and want to laugh and cry at the same time Vox Day and Young Master Gavin bring it.
Gavin learns ya everything ya wanna know about why you suck
I like how that works: I was born in 1964. Depending on who defines the terms, that means I was a tail end baby boomer or a leading edge Gen X. When our elderly hippies and baby boomer fucks are pissing and moaning about Gen X I get soaked. When Gen X man-children are whining about how boomers are responsible for all their problems I get it in stereo with twits like Vox in one ear and Gavin in the other. Hey Gavin! Hey Vox! Why don't you two fuck off with your whining and get REAL jobs like I did? When you were ten years old in 1980, Gavin, I was 16. I guess by your math that makes me old enough to be your father and therefore culpable for all that's wrong in the world.
This is what schools were like for our parents. Kids of my generation were just bricks of a different sort. Trust me Gavin, you would NOT like the education they got either. Mouthy kids like you got strapped, slapped and sent home!
What follows is one of my usual rantss but it is unusual in that I haven't embellished it to the extent that I have with others. These are the events as I remember them, as they transpired.
In 1991 I was 28. Like you Gen X kids my schooling was as worthless as yours. I drifted through doing as little as possible. There was always a second chance. If you were too lazy to get over the bar, your teachers would happily lower it for you! If you STILL failed you were forgiven and passed on. You see - in those days, as it does now... self esteem trumped education. When I finished school I was thrown into the world and told to grow up - and be a success! When I failed, my parents correctly accused me of being lazy and shiftless. Looking back...what did they expect, I wonder? You raise kids in coddled, protected environments and then throw them at a world you did not prepare them for...and expect them to succeed? I know all about your pain, Gavin - but that bit about the eating utensils was a new one! HAR HAR HAR!
When I became a father - I had to buckle down and ended up working in a sweat shop for a-holes at minimum wage. There was nothing else for me. All I had was a high school diploma and that was as useless on the job market as a gender studies degree is today. Like now, the economy was in deep recession. My parents still accused me of being lazy and having a bad attitude because I didn't like working 70 hours a week for peanuts and for assholes that weren't fit to shine my shoes. My parents knifed me in the back too, Gavin. One day in the lunchroom a kindly soul let me have a dog eared copy of an autobiography entitled "It Doesn't Take A Hero" - by Stormin' Norman Schwartzkopff - and it saved my life.
The General's philosophy on life was brutally and yet beautifully simple. Establish your goals. Evaluate their feasibility. Gather and marshal your resources. Make no excuses, don't complain - make your sacrifices and do whatever it takes to succeed. So it was that I enrolled in correspondence courses to fill the gaps in my education, most notably in the areas of math, physics, and chemistry. With that done - I enrolled in university and the going got REALLY tough.
We were living with my mother and father in law in their basement. It was a sweet deal: they charged us $600.00 month rent, my wife worked and I pushed myself beyond my academic limits at school. It was hard on all of us. Three generations under one roof. Your problems became everyone else's and vice versa. My wife and I took lots of long walks and weekend trips just to get away from her parents and give them a rest from us. There was a lot of deeply suppressed family friction.
In 1993 my daughter brought home an angry note from her grade 3 teacher telling me that my kid was a monkey in class and she wanted it to stop. Daughter was in tears and I told her that anyone could have a bad day; just behave yourself, and don't let it happen again! She skipped off, happy and relieved, and I smirked to myself. I had the same thing happen to me in Grade 3 too. The next day she brought home another angry letter. This time it was serious: I sat her down, looked her in the eye - and told her she had to clean up her act or she would get a lickin'. I meant it too - when I was in Grade 3 Pop had this exact same problem with me. After the dire threats I smirked again. There would probably be a spanking and that would be the end of it. Boy...did I ever get THAT wrong! When note number 3 came home I cracked her ass the exact same way my father did to me when I brought home notes from the teacher in. In my community getting the strap at school was nothing - compared to the one you got at home when Pop found out! Unlike Pop...I went a little easier with the wooden spoon and my daughter than he did with me.
The next day there was ANOTHER angry note - for ME! The teacher was furious with me and wanted a meeting ASAP. The next day after school I went to meet with the lady and she tore a strip off me a mile long. "We don't spank children anymore," she scolded, "that's child abuse!!!!" Being a younger man I was polite and courteous and she softened and explained that nowadays we discipline children by revoking privileges and grounding them. "It won't work," I explained. "A. My daughter can do 15 minutes in the corner on a 'time-out' standing on her head! She was a stubborn and vexing child at the best of times and willful as could be. (I have no idea where she inherited that from). "B. As far as grounding goes - if you put her in a room with pencils, paper, and books...she could entertain herself for years."
But what did I know? The teacher was an expert on child behaviour and assured me I was wrong. So I says "Fine, we'll try it your way and see what happens!". It made sense. Right?
The next day note #4 came home - and I stood the brat up in the corner outside my room and told her I would let her off in 15 minutes. In the meantime she would keep her nose in that corner or else!!!When I came back to let her off - she was gone. My father in law was there so I asked him - where had my kid run off to? "Oh, I saw her just standing in the corner so I told her to run off and play," he says. I didn't get too mad and explained the score about how she was being punished with 'time-outs'. I asked him to let me discipline my own child because she was getting in trouble at school and he agreed.
The next day note #5 came home. Once again the kid went into the corner, and once again my father in law intervened to let her off. Now I was mad. "You can't do that Doug! She's being punished! She's making it harder for the other kids to learn at school!" The old man just smirked at me and winked at my daughter and said "Oh. I forgot...." Sure, you asshole. Sure.
The next day note #7 came home. I grabbed my daughter by the wrist, dragged her over by my desk in my room, stood her up in the corner and kept her there for 20 minutes. Soon she was fidgeting and I barked at her to get her nose in the corner. My father in law popped around the corner and saw me...and smirked. "Fuck off" I said to him coldly. "What?!!?" he says...but I knew what he was going to do. My daughter started fidgeting and fussing again and I cuffed her behind the ear and she started wailing at the top of her lungs. I was back at corporal punishment...but that damned kid was going to do her time-out if it killed us.
The next day note #8 came home. Time to escalate: 'You're grounded, kid. Congratulations - you get three days off with no TV, and no going out to play with your friends!" About an hour later she skipped off to play with her friends when her grandfather found her in her room and told her that all was forgiven. I was livid. "Doug - you CAN'T DO THAT. SHE IS BEING PUNISHED. SHE IS BRINGING HOME NOTES FROM SCHOOL AND DISRUPTING HER CLASSROOM. STOP UNDERMINING ME AS A PARENT." The old man just smirked. He thought it was funny and I suppose all that mattered to him was that his granddaughter considered him a hero. "Whatever," he said airily and waltzed off.
The next day note #9 came home. I was homicidal at this point. I sat my daughter down in front of her grandfather. I told her that I was her father, and that she would do as I said, and that she was damned well going to do her punishment or things were going to get really nasty. I glared at my father in law as I handed my daughter 5 days of grounding and told her that if she disregarded me - she would regret it. And of course an hour later she was gone. My father in law may as well have given me the finger!
The next day note #10 came home. Again, I sat my daughter down in front of her doting grandfather. "Look you two. I've had enough of your shit. Kid - if you run off tonight to play with your friends - YOU ARE GETTING A SPANKING. If you bring home another note tomorrow complaining of bad behaviour, YOU ARE GETTING A SPANKING. YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR 5 DAYS STARTING NOW." And of course, her hero of a Grandfather pipes up. "You're not going to get spanked Granddaughter..." I jumped right back and told him she damned well was and if either of them doubted it I would skip the preliminaries and do it right now! Of course, my daughter sobbed that she would behave and my father in law smirked at me and shrugged.
The next day note #11 came home. My daughter crept in, hoping to drop off the note and then cut and run...but I was waiting for her. Grabbing her by the wrist, and a wooden spoon from the drawer I said "C'mon kid. You know what happens now...". She was mortified. "You're supposed to talk to Grampy!!! You can't do this!!!!" she gobbled in fright. Goddamn my soul, when I cracked her ass this time, I left scortch marks on her butt and enjoyed doing it! Ordinarily a spanking in my family was three cracks on the ass - but I gave her four. The last one was for being a manipulative deceitful brat who was deliberately playing me off against her teacher and her grandfather.
That's when things went from the ridiculous to the sublime.
When we came out of her room my in laws were waiting for me. "WE DON'T SPANK CHILDREN IN THIS HOUSE" my mother in law growled. Her husband - the gutless pansy he was - was right behind her. My mother in law wore the pants in her family and they made it clear they expected me to defer to her as well. Well...screw that rattle! So I asked her...how DO you discipline kids in your house exactly, Grandma? Ya see...when I hand down the time-outs and groundings, my fuck-headed father in law comes along and countermands them and the next day my kid is in trouble again. By all means, pray tell me how you fine people handle such matters in this house? I knew what it was like to be raised, coddled and spoiled. I knew what it was like to hit the adult job market after not being allowed to grow up. I knew what it was like to get out, find only crappy jobs and have parents accuse you of being lazy, stupid and immature as you tried to make your way. No way was I going to let my daughter experience that. No. Fucking. Way.
And of course, Grandma was stumped. Shooting an angry glare at her idiot husband, she turned to her Granddaughter - and God bless her... she was still sane then ... she explained that you have to behave in class, and you have to listen to your parents AND your teachers or you WILL get spanked or worse! It was the last time in my life that woman ever sided with me...but my father in law was livid. "Maybe you should find another place to live!" he shouted at me - I thought he was going to take a swing and I almost hoped that he would. I looked that stupid bastard in the eye and told him "Fine. No problem. I will quit school, go back to work stacking boxes and driving a forklift...but my family will come with me. AND - You won't see your granddaughter again because you are a stupid bastard and a bad influence on her...". HAR HAR HAR! I thought he was going to put up his dukes but Grandma intervened. "Doug!!! Stop it! Right now!" The old twit deflated like a balloon. To this day I still don't understand how that idiot was thinking...nor do I care, I suppose. It's waters that have passed under the bridge of time and the damage was done, I guess.
The next day note #...12? I'm losing count! Note number 12 came home and again, this one was for me. The teacher wanted another meeting. The next day, 4:00 PM sharp. DON'T BE LATE.
Again, she tore right in to me the second I showed up. She challenged me to give her one good reason not to call family and social services and report me as a child abuser. So I explained: my father in law was an asshole that lived with us and undermined her hokey meaningless punishments, and those punishments wouldn't work anyways. Further, if she reported me for child abuse she had better get a lawyer because I would sue her skinny old ass for every last cent I could get! 'What in hell is wrong with you, you idiot?" I asked, "Do you honestly think a foster home is better for my kid???"
Honest to God, I quote that old bint almost verbatim: "What am I supposed to do now?" She asked plaintitively, "When your child acts up in class she breaks down in tears and begs me not to get mad and tell her father!!! How am I supposed to make her behave???" I calmed myself, and told the harridan that if my kid acted up in class, you tell her to smarten up or you WILL call her father and she WILL have her ass tanned so she had better damned well behave! Ugh! How hard is that? This lady was a senior teacher - with a bloody masters degree in Education!!! GAH!!!
So you see, Gavin? This is the kind of shit you're up against if you ever have kids of your own and try and raise them to be responsible adults. 22 years later I learned that this experience had traumatized my daughter and that my mindless love of evil-white-male-violence was responsible for all her failures. Why, she can't even set foot in her home town now because she is so traumatized - it will curdle her milk or something. One day, Gavin, your kids will tell you that you're a big mean nasty shit head too. But yannow...I never had to spank my daughter again after that. And I never got another note home from her teachers either.
The long and short of it Gavin is that if you try to do right by your child - you will have the schools, the gov't and the social justice warriors dead set against you. Would you have the guts to stand up to them as I did? For the next 12 years I battled my in laws, the coddlers, and the baby sitters for my daughter's soul and I lost every single time. Instead of being a politically correct social engineer, I tried to set boundaries and rules that would help make my daughter a responsible adult. I don't blame my in laws or the schools or even my daughter for all this for I clearly am at fault too.
None of this is to excuse my own responsibility. I had made terrible mistakes as a boy and a young man growing up. By going back to school I resolved to correct them...and somehow lost my daughter in the endless assignments, the cramming for exams and the projects and lab write ups. I even congratulated myself, thinking that I was laying the foundations for a career that would allow me to take better care of my family and prided myself on my ambition and willingness to work. Before school there were the 70 hour work weeks. When I went back to school - more long hours...and my little girl grew up without a father that only noticed her when she got in trouble...and then all he did was bark at her.
Our girls are lost too, folks, betrayed by the same forces that betray our boys. When you hurt or neglect the problems of one gender - both will pay the price. Hug your kids and keep them close. Some truly filthy and insidious people have designs on them.
Were my daughter here today and I could look her in the eye - and I would not lecture or rant. I would just maybe give her a copy of Stormin' Norman's book and ask her what good a soul is .. without heart and strength? I rebelled as a youth too and pay for it to this day. I can't answer that question either, kid.
Godspeed little one. I am so sorry.