The Greensboro I Grew Up In

When I was a 7th grade student at Aycock Jr High School I was called to the principal's office and told I was to get a paddling. "For what?" I asked, "I didn't do anything."

The principal replied, "I don't know what you did but according to my records I've never given you a paddling before and I'm sure you did something I just never found out about."

He gave me a paddling despite my protests then paddled me again, one extra lick, for protesting. When I went home I told my mother what happened thinking surely that would get me some sort of revenge against the principal. My mother said, "You did something."

That former principal and I are friends now. His was an unusual way of getting acquainted with a student who he usually would never come in contact with. Fact is: His paddling was not as bad as Momma's belt and nothing near the severity of Daddy's dreaded razor strap. And from that day on he always knew me by name and treated me like a man as if that paddling had been a rite of passage.

As a matter of fact: that's probably my fondest memory of Aycock Jr High School.