by Steve Timmons
"Hey Hon," I called from the kitchen table where I was reading the morning paper as I finished my breakfast, "look who's just been named 'Teacher of the Year'."
My wife paused a moment from packing our son's lunch to peer over my shoulder at the paper. Spotting the story, she quickly zeroed in on the name.
"Casey Corrigan!"
"My high school tutor," I added.
"And big time school boy crush!" she teased.
"True," I admitted, "but that was before I met you, my love."
Together, we read the glowing description of the many accomplishments that had garnered Casey the award. It had been years since either one of us had seen her, but it seemed that Casey had made quite a career for herself as an educator. No surprise there, I thought to myself. She already had all the makings when she first tutored me fifteen years ago.
As my wife hustled our son out to the car to drop him off at his school on her way to her own job as a high school teacher, I poured another cup of coffee and sat down to reread the article. As I did so, my mind wandered back over the years...
I grew up in a college town, the second child of parents who were psychologists and tenured professors at the university. Not only were Mom and Dad senior professors, they were also published authors (multiple times); they were involved in numerous research projects, and very busy on the guest lecturer circuit. All of these activities really kept them on the go, often for weeks at a time. Consequently, I spent much of my pre-school years in the university day care program and my early grade school years in the after-school program.
Honesty compels me to admit that I was an indifferent student throughout grade school. By the time I entered my freshman year in high school, I had been officially labeled as an 'underachiever' which must have been a real disappointment to my brilliant parents.
My sister Mary Ann, four years older than me and a senior, was just the opposite. She excelled at everything all through school. When I was in eighth grade, my parents got the idea that they would pay Mary Ann to be my tutor. That was a total bust! The dynamic was all wrong. I just couldn't stand the idea of being subjected to my bossy sister's authority and, as often happens with people who learn things easily themselves, she had very little patience when I couldn't or wouldn't understand what she was trying to teach me. We gave the whole thing up after a couple of frustrating months.
Very early in my freshman year, my parents were talking about me with one of the Deans at a faculty affair. The Dean mentioned that he and his wife had employed a tutor to help prepare their own son for the rigorous entrance exam required for admission to the University Prep School. They were very pleased with the results and recommended her enthusiastically.
That was good enough for my parents and they immediately asked for the name of this fantastic tutor. I think that they were expecting it to be one of the university students so they were more than a bit surprised when it turned out to be a girl who was not only still a high school senior, but also was well known to them.
Casey Corrigan was one of my sister's closest friends and had been in and out of our house many times. She had even been my sitter on a number of occasions when I was about ten. Her family lived right around the corner and her mother was also a member of the university faculty. Small world, indeed!
Casey was a classmate of my sister at the University Prep School (whereas I was in the public high school) and, like Mary Ann, she was eighteen. She was also a goddess, and I'd had a big case of 'puppy love' for her for a couple years now. She was always nice to me, but I'm sure that in her eyes I was just Mary Ann's little brother.
The first inkling I had of the impending change was seeing Casey leaving our house as I was coming home from soccer practice. I thought that it was unusual, because Mary Ann was still at school and I was pretty certain that Casey had not come to visit me.
Two nights later, just after dinner, I got the word from my parents that I was going to be getting a new tutor. My new tutor would be Casey Corrigan. Casey's visit, it seems, had been to interview with Mom and Dad.
My folks made it clear that my cooperation with this tutor was not only expected but unequivocally required. Failure to do so would mean my instant withdrawal from all extracurricular activities ... in other words, no sports! Dad went on to explain that I might find some of Casey's methods unusual, but she'd had excellent results with other students and Dad was sure if I made a good faith effort that they would work for me as well. But he wanted me to be absolutely clear on one point... Casey was to be in charge and I was to toe the mark, or else!
My tutoring sessions were scheduled for Monday and Thursday, from three to five. My first session was set for the following Monday. That schedule allowed me time to get home from school and change clothes before heading around the corner to Casey's house.
Come Monday, however, my lackadaisical attitude was to cause me trouble right off the bat, because I got to Casey's ten minutes late. I was expecting the worst as she opened the door, but was relieved when she greeted me with a smile, saying, "Hello Tom, come in. I was beginning to think that you weren't coming."
"Sorry Casey, I just lost track of the time."
"Well," she replied, "we won't worry about that right now. We have a lot of work to do so let's get to it. Oh, I want to be sure that we can work right through these sessions, so if you need to use the bathroom, you should do so now."
"I'm all set," I replied. "I did just before leaving the house."
"That's good planning. Come with me to the classroom and we'll get going."
I thought she was joking when she said 'classroom', but following her down to the basement I found that there was, indeed, a small classroom set up in a special room down there. Casey told me that her parents had arranged it about six months back when it appeared that her tutoring services were going to be in regular demand.
The 'classroom' was small but it had room for a teacher's desk and chair, situated in the opposite corner from the door. There was a white board mounted in the middle of the front wall, an easel with a large scratch pad, a book shelf with a large selection of text books, and a table with four chairs around it, plus three high school size student desks. I automatically headed to one of the student desks but Casey redirected me to the table where she sat down as well.
The main order of business that day was a comprehensive evaluation of my strengths and weaknesses. In preparation for that, Casey had already interviewed my teachers and we discussed what they had told her. She had me do a few short quizzes to establish a base line against which to measure my progress. Throughout the whole process, Casey was very pleasant, friendly in fact, and the time passed quickly.
At the end of the evaluation process, she was very encouraging about my prospects and I was beginning to feel pretty good about the whole tutoring idea. Finally, she said, "Well Tom, normally, this would be the point at which I would be saying 'see you on Thursday' and sending you on your way. Today, however, there is one more thing we have to deal with."
"What's that, Casey?"
"Your tardiness," she answered.
"Gosh, Casey, I didn't mean to be late and I said I was sorry. Besides, you said it was no problem," I protested.
"No, Tom, I did not say it was 'no problem'. I said that we wouldn't worry about it at that moment. I did that because I wanted our first session to get off on a positive note, and I believe it did. But I can't let you walk out of here thinking that being late for our sessions is 'no problem', as you put it, because it is a problem, Tom. Not so much the ten minutes in and of themselves, but more importantly, what your tardiness represents."
"But I told you that I didn't mean to be late; I just lost track of the time."
"Fortunately, I believe you. But that doesn't get you off the hook. Whether you realize it or not, being late today is symbolic of an underlying problem that I have to address now or, sooner or later, it will come back to haunt us."
"What problem?" I asked.
"Call it 'indifference' or 'carelessness' or 'poor attitude' or 'lack of motivation'; it really doesn't matter. There is also the issue of respect. Showing up late for your very first tutoring session suggests that you may not have the proper level of respect for me that you should. For all intents and purposes, during these sessions, I am your teacher and you need to start thinking about me that way."
"I'm really, really sorry, Casey, and I promise it won't happen again. You're not going to tell my parents, are you?"
"No, not on this occasion. For now, this will remain between us. I am going to punish you, however. Your parents have agreed to give me that authority. In fact, I insisted on it before I signed on to be your tutor."
"Punish me, how?"
"I'm going to paddle you," she answered calmly.
I looked at her in amazement as she got up from the table and went to the desk. Taking a large wooden paddle from one of the drawers, she walked back and ordered me to stand up. In a daze, I found myself rising to my feet. She pulled my chair off to one side to clear a space.
"Tom, I want you to bend over across the top of the table and stretch your arms out so you can hold onto the opposite side."
"Please Casey, I'm really sorry. Can't you give a break this one time, please?"
My pleading fell on deaf ears as she responded, "You know the alternatives, Tom. It's my way or the highway. Now quit stalling or I may decide to add to your punishment."
My face red with embarrassment, I reluctantly assumed the position she had directed and grabbed on tightly to the opposite edge of the table top. Now, I had been spanked occasionally when I was a much younger child but those spankings had only been by hand and were few and far between. I couldn't even remember the last time it had happened. Part of my problems, some of you might say. But, in any event, I was now quite scared as that paddle was awfully big and Casey seemed awfully stern.
"How many?" I barely managed to ask through my suddenly very dry throat.
"You were ten minutes late so you'll get ten swats. I expect you to hold your position. If you don't, you'll get extras. If you put your hand back to try to cover your butt, you'll get extras. Understand?"
"Yes, Casey."
"And another thing, until your paddling is over, it's 'Miss Casey'. Clear?"
"Yes, Miss Casey."
"Very good. Now keep your legs straight and your feet together."
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