The Whuppin’

Rebecca Bingham sat at her desk and cried quietly. She wanted to break down and sob loud enough to be heard over in Hancock County, but she restrained herself.

She didn't know why. There was no one around to hear her. The children had been gone for over half an hour and the little schoolhouse and small clearing in which it sat were deserted. The only break in the silence was the chirping of birds and two squirrels barking at each other. The quiet crying did give her a feeling of control over something-and she needed that since she seemed to have lost control of everything else.

She leaned back in her chair, dabbed at her eyes with the damp handkerchief, and looked around the rather spartan room. It was typical of the many one-room schoolhouses that dotted the rural landscape of Tennessee: one room with adjoining cloakroom, wood stove in the center, grades 1 through 8, 37 students, one teacher.

This was her first appointment and she just had to succeed. These children needed to learn something more than what was over in the next hollow. The boys coming home from The Great War bringing stories about cities like New York and Paris and all the sights they'd seen told Rebecca that there was a whole other world outside of Hawkins County. And she wanted to be the one to awaken these youngsters to it. But, so many of them-especially the older ones-did not want to wake up. By the time they reached their mid-teens, most were as resistant to change and as suspicious of anything different as their elders were. Zack Bloodworth was one of these.

Zach was short for Zacharias. Rebecca suspected that the King James Bible was the source of all the names of the Bloodworth children. His sister, Hannah, was in the fifth grade. Zach was sixteen and in the fourth grade-not because he was dumb but because of his sporadic attendance pattern.

He had challenged her authority from the very first day and seemed determined to allow the school to operate only on his terms. Since he was older and physically stronger than most of the other boys, they tended to follow him. Rebecca had tried everything she knew to try and nothing had worked. Each attempt to subdue him or win him over had left him more defiant. Earlier that afternoon the time that she had been dreading for weeks finally came. She could take no more and stood face to face with him in the middle of the room and shouted in anger, "Young man, you will stay after school and get the whipping you deserve."

As soon as she said it, she wished she could take it back but it was too late for that. Since all the students had heard her, there could be no turning back. She also knew that she'd be flying in the face of local custom. By age sixteen, boys were considered to be men and no longer to be punished by females. Zach would probably accept blows from a stick or strap wielded by a man but a paddling from a woman might be more than he was willing to endure.

As the time for dismissal drew near, Rebecca wondered if he'd stay behind. He might just leave and never return to school. In many ways she hoped he would. But when she dismissed classes, Zach sat alone at his desk. She busied herself marking some spelling papers until the other children were out of earshot. Then she called him up to her desk.

"Zach, I'm sorry it's come to this but you have left me no choice." Her voice was shaking. "Miz Bingham, you'uns know hit ain't right fer you'uns tah whup me. But I's a'gonner letcha ‘cause you'uns are the teacher." With that he took his tin of Prince Albert tobacco out of his left rear pocket and bent over her desk.

Rebecca got shakily to her feet and picked up the three-foot hickory paddle. She swung it with as much force as her 95-pound frame could muster. She gave him four licks. The blows must have hurt him because he flinched noticeably on the last three.

When it was finished, Zach stood up and re-pocketed the Prince Albert. His face showed a mixture of hurt and anger as he said, "My daddy'll take care of you'uns," before stomping out the door.

Rebecca dried her eyes for the last time and prepared to leave. She dreaded what tomorrow might bring-maybe the end of her short teaching career, maybe the end of her. One seemed no worse than the other.

Zach came to school the next day. His behavior was noticeably better but he had an odd look in his eyes. They seemed to be saying, "Jest you'uns wait. This thang ain't over yet." And Rebecca feared that it wasn't.

The recitation went well that morning causing her to push her concerns about Zach into the background. Then, about mid-morning she noticed two or three students furtively punching their neighbors and pointing toward the road. She pretended not to notice but as she moved among the students, she turned so that she could glance in that direction. Her heart jumped up in her throat. Three rough looking men were walking up the road. Rebecca prayed that they would go on by but they turned into the buggy path that led up to the schoolhouse.

She continued the lessons as if she had not seen the visitors, but her heart began to pound and she could hear the blood rushing past her ears. Its sound was not unlike the nearby creek flowing over the large boulders after a heavy rain.

The men stopped outside the door and wiped their feet. As they entered, they removed their wide-brimmed straw hats, nodded politely to Rebecca, filed to the rear of the room, and seated themselves on a vacant bench. One was older. Rebecca guessed about 45 or 50. The other two looked to be somewhere in their 20s. Probably Zach's father and two of his older brothers. She glanced at Zach. The earlier odd look had turned into a smirk.

Since geography was usually Zach's best subject, Rebecca called him forward to recite his geography lesson for the day. She was thankful that his recitation was better than normal.

After sending him back to his seat, she called for the morning recess. The rest of the children hurried out to the playground but Zach remained in his seat.

"Zach, wouldn't you like to go outside?" Rebecca asked.
Before he could answer, the older man said, as the trio got to their feet, "We-uns ‘ud like fer him to stay, ma'am." With that they marched to the front of the room and lined up in front of Rebecca's desk, the older man in the middle. They all held their hats in front of their bodies with both hands on the brims. The last thing Rebecca wanted was for Zach to be a witness to the impending confrontation, but she felt powerless to alter the situation. Some of the more curious children were running back and forth to the schoolhouse and peeking in the windows or around the door facing.

She got to her feet, drew herself up to her full five feet two inches, and resolved to face whatever was coming as bravely as she could. Zach was visible between two of the men. The smirk was still on his face.

The older man began to speak. "Miz Bingham, I's Jacob Bloodworth an' these here's mah sons, Jonah and Micah." (Rebecca noted that she had been correct about the naming practices of the Bloodworth family.) "Zach tells me that you'uns whupped ‘im yestiddy. Kin you'uns tell me whut fer?"

Rebecca tried to speak without her voice trembling. "Yes, Mr. Bloodworth, I can. Yesterday morning I caught him throwing spitwads three times while other classes were reciting. He also dipped one of Jessie Wainwright's pigtails into his inkwell. And in the afternoon he tripped Sam Jessup as he was coming to the front to recite. Sam fell into the stove and knocked the pipe loose and got soot all over everything. I'm sorry I had to paddle him, but I just couldn't take any more of this misbehavior."

Mr. Bloodworth looked at Rebecca for several seconds before turning his head toward Zach. "Is ‘at right, boy?" "Yessir," came the reply.

He turned back toward Rebecca. "Well, now, Miz Bingham, you'uns know Zach's sixteen year old. Hit ain't right fer you'uns to whup ‘im. So, thar jest ain't no need fer you'uns tah giv'em no more whuppin'. You'uns know whut I'm a sayin'?

"Yes, yes, I think I do Mr. Bloodworth." Rebecca knew that her teaching career was over. Without the authority to deal with her main problem, her days at the school were numbered.

"'At's gud. Iffen Zach cuts up anymore, you'uns jest send word home by Hannah an' me an' his brothers'll whup the livin' daylights out of ‘im. We-uns won't have ‘im givin' ya no more trouble. Thank you'uns kindly fer ya time, ma'am." With that, the three turned as one, marched out the door, and headed up the buggy path toward the road.
Rebecca was both shocked and speechless. Her knees felt like jelly on a warm plate in July. She almost fell into her chair.

She looked at Zach. The smirk was gone. His chin had dropped to his chest and there was a look of utter disbelief on his face. She tried to keep her voice as even as she could. "Zach, don't you think you'd better go outside before you miss most of recess?" He got up and slunk out the door looking like a whipped puppy with its tail between its legs.

Rebecca leaned back in her chair as the feelings of relief and several other emotions flooded over her. The sounds of children at play drifted in from the playground. Perhaps she did have a future in teaching after all.

Next: The Decision

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