Deliberate football injuries

It's no secret that some football teams try to knock opposing starters out of the game. The Bad Boy Raiders of the 60s and 70s regularly gunned for the weak knees of the Jets' Joe Namath. The Saints' innovation may be awarding bounties for incapacitation.

I doubt that George, a student in my very first composition class, got paid for his rough hits in high school. But he wrote that he and his buddies on defense never paid any attention to the official score; what mattered was which team forced more players to be carried more off the field on stretchers. Except for this barbaric obsessio9n, George was generally a relaxed person, though his temper could flare. He could not write a decent essay, though. He seemed to try, so on his early papers I gave him not the F's his work deserved but D- grades, hoping to encourage him. Bad move; George apparently took that just-above-failing grade as an insult. Luckily, when George decided he had had enough, I decided to be honest and flunk his essays. On paper return day, he got up from his seat, strode to the front of the class and held a (fortunately empty) trash can over my head. "Murray," he said, "if you gave me another D-, I'm gonna stuff you in this f--king can and throw you out the f--king window." This was a serious threat, as George was strong enough to carry it out and our classroom was on the third story. What the hell. I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I did not give you a D-, George. I gave you an F." "Oh," he said. He put the trash can down and walked back to his seat. He never after questioned the F's on his essays.

And I have never since given anyone a D- grade, if I could help it.

Cheating Teacher

Recently, and especially in Atlanta, cheating by teachers and administrators on high-stakes bubble-sheet tests has grabbed headlines. During my own education, I encountered only one teacher I knew was cheating. I'll call her Mrs. H. She was my ninth-grade history teacher. Very grandmotherly: white hair in a bun, rimless glasses, dumpling cheeks, at least 85 years old. She should have been retired, but the principal, who knew several useless relatives depended on her salary, said she had no birth certificate and he had no idea of her age.

She treated her students as extra grandchildren. I was the black sheep of the family. She knew my name was Neil but called me Lee no matter how many times I corrected her. Nothing wrong with her mind: she once said, more accurately than I would have liked, "Lee, you'll only be happy as the dictator of a small island."...Anyway, at the end of the semester we had to take Regents Exams to earn New York State credit. Mrs. H. handed out the bubble sheets, and as the exam progressed she stopped next to students she knew were in danger of failing. Seeing wrong answers, she pointed with the eraser end of her pencil to correct answers and say, "You should think some more about this question." The students knew the game and would change their mistakes.