[Jeff Higgins]

When I was in junior high, I had quite the disciplinary problems. An endless source of frustration to the school staff and my parents alike. I carried a straight 4.0, even taking the "accelerated" classes, but I was an incurable smart-ass and prankster (you are all surprised, no doubt). On a first-name basis with the vice-principal, the head of school discipline.

So one afternoon, finding myself in his office once again (waiting for my dad...), he grabs his "spat" board. Think cricket bat with holes in it. I knew the drill, so I bent over and grabbed my ankles. When he hit me, I started to giggle (he was a very small Japanese guy). Bad idea. So he calls one of the P.E. teachers, the football coach, and retired NFL player. He shows up about the same time my dad does, so the three of them huddle. Mr. Brown, or Coach Brown, emerges from the huddle with the spat board. He is going to demonstrate proper technique to Mr. Takiiuchi, to ensure no more students giggle when he "spats" them. He damn near drove my head into the ground. By the time I recovered, my dad was holding the spat board and getting tips on his grip from Mr. Brown. So dad damn near drives my head into the ground (a scratch golfer, he knew how to swing things...). Finally, Mr. Takiiuchi has the spat board. "Like this?" I didn't giggle that time. It may not of cured me of being a smart-ass, but I certainly learned where and when it might be appropriate.