East Flatbush Writer

I recently began a conversation with my 22 year old son, with the question, “did you feel loved while I was raising you?” He sheepishly admitted that although I can be quite the warden, (rules, rules everywhere), he’s never felt unloved. Parent mission accomplished!

I followed up my question with an explanation about why rules, if appropriated with balance, actually feels like love. My reasoning was supported by some references from the Bible and some examples from my own life.

Flashback to the 80’s. I was raised by my grandfather, Felix, until the age of 13. He was affectionately referred to by his peers, and ever so quietly by everyone else, as “Gun Ball. ” (There is no sexual connotation here.) This is a name he earned for reasons I will now explain. Inspector Felix McLeod had “balls” of steel and in most personal, as well as professional situations, he was tough, unyielding, unapologetic, and unafraid. It was in your best interest not to test the power of the “Gun Ball.” His actions were always preemptive, and as a precaution, consequences were doled out, just in case you were even thinking about the deed.

Now to many of you, reading this description of my grandfather’s approach to raising a family, it sounds abusive. Certainly, my mother would agree as she was his first child and subjected to the harshest of his tactics. (By the time he got to me, 30 years later, he had no choice but to soften his approach, somewhat.) I will make this startling confession, however, that despite literally hating him and his methods at times, I genuinely also felt loved and cared for by him.

How can such disparate experiences and emotions coexist? I certainly didn’t understand it then, but I’m truly grateful now for the rules, boundaries, even guards that he put in place when I was young. They provided for me a very clear sense of right and wrong as well as consequences for the choices I made. His boundaries also created a culture of safety and stability. These guidelines were so ingrained into my psyche that there was no escaping me reaching for them as I raise my own children. 

As a teacher, very clear boundaries in the classroom, reinforced through consistent consequences, mixed with a very compelling sense of genuine interest in my students as valuable members of the human race is a winning combination.

For most students rules create the boundaries by which to keep them safe. If meted out fairly, you’ll foster a culture of equity. Consequences, draw “intangible” boundary lines around their behaviors and if reliable, fosters a classroom culture of respect.

At the end of the school year or far into the distant future, when the adults you taught reflect on their time in your classroom, they should feel that you cared for them and their well being. They should be convinced that you were tough, but not a respecter of persons. They should also remember you as unyielding and unapologetic when making choices in their best interest. Finally, they should definitely describe you as unafraid to draw the battle lines as you fought in the war for their educational souls.