Really… we did.

The only thing I did in high school, other than some silly games, that would get me in trouble in school today was when I waited in the restroom to fight Randy Dixon. He had been harassing me for days and I finally had had enough. Even though I never fought and a big teddy bear - though a skinny one in those days -, I had had enough and agreed to meet him in the bathroom.

He didn’t show and I went on to geometry.

That was the first - and only - class that I got yanked out of by the principle. Dixon had gone there instead of meeting me in the restroom.

I was a good kid for the most part. That was the third - and last - time I got corporal punishment. Believe me, it hurt! But at least my face wasn’t messed up.

Dixon died later from the complications of a hard life. I don’t remember what it was. Might have been drugs.

I remember Kill the Man with the Ball!

In grade school, we had uniforms. If I remember right, we even played KMB with our uniforms on! I think there were parents or teachers that would keep an eye on us, but they let us play without much (or any?) interference that I can remember. I just remember one day when ML tried to hold me back because she didn’t want me to get hurt.

…so crazy that the local cops and FBI questioned him…

Heck, the government’s apparently been reading all of our stuff online!

A lot of local private schools in town have adopted “no touching” rules.

In high school, PDAs (public displays of affection) were prohibited. But, most teachers didn’t make a big deal out of it. I mean, I don’t know of anyone who ever got detention or sent home because of a PDA.

A few months later, the same teacher decided to hook up a Vandegraaff generator. You know, those electric ball things that make your hair stand on end. The teacher wasn’t that smart either and asked me what the ground was on the device. I sarcastically replied she didn’t need it. She hooked up our quarterback on the electric mess and turned it on. After a few minutes of lecture, she told him to sit down. Of course, he couldn’t. The generator electrocuted him anytime he tried to remove his hand from it. His hair was at full salute. Much panic. The teacher ran in and out of class. Some other football players tried to tackle him and got electrocuted. Finally, the principal, whom I was now friendly with, ran in the class. I asked him to throw the circuit breaker. Power down. I got blamed for trying to kill the quarterback and spent some more time with the principal. Nice guy.

I bounced a girl’s head off the lunchroom table, who kept pounding mustard packs with her fists, spraying everyone’s clothes. She was a rich kid and replaced the stained clothes. I was poor and could not. The principal and I still email. I’m over 50 without a criminal record.

Here at the University of Florida, there was an English major who wrote some crazy horror stories, so crazy that the local cops and FBI questioned him, hoping to get a lead on some similar sounding murders. They dug through his trash and followed him around. The dean backed him and said (paraphrasing), “I’ll have every one of my students and faculty write a horror story if you don’t back off.” Boy did the cops feel stupid.

A lot of local private schools in town have adopted “no touching” rules. A co-worker had his kid sent home for violating it. Ridiculous. I mean doesn’t lack of human contact make people crazy? Isn’t that akin to solitary confinement except that there’s people around? Kill the Man with the Ball should be a required class. Works better than any therapy I know of.