Ninth grade.

Freshman.

Intimidating.

Terrifying.

Humiliating.

It’s hard to think of too many good things about your freshman year in high school. You are the new kid. Every single one of you. You are the underling, the minion to all of those sitting in their ivory towers in the upper classes. You know who you are…

I hated it.

The Sweetheart likes to tease that I hated school altogether. That is not true. I loved school from first to seventh grade. (Yes, to all of you under 50 or so, kindergarten was not required in the early sixties!) All in the same building, secure, close to home, small town, you get the picture. But eighth grade brought with it many changes and our beloved school, where I had been privileged to have the same second grade teacher as my dad, was closing its middle and high school wings.

Smithville School was known for its unique mascot, a Skibo. If you don’t know what a Skibo is I invite you to read my post about them here!

Redistricting, they called it. We called it separation; the end of friendships and lifelong relationships. Granted, twelve and thirteen weren’t very long lives but to us it was a huge adjustment that caused much anxiety in our pre-teen minds.

Eighth grade was hard enough. The new school was actually brand new and a literal big deal in our town. This building, to a kid, (and even to me today) looked like a prison. Meet Lora L. Batchelor Middle School.

I rest my case.

But we persevered and conquered and were promoted on to Bloomington High School South.

Enter Mr. Bundy.

This gentleman was older, in my eyes he was 70 or above but I am sure he was only in his late 50’s or early 60’s at the time. He was tortured mercilessly by his students. It was actually very sad and truly, even though he definitely wasn’t in my Top Ten of Favorite Teachers, I did feel sympathy for the way he was treated.

A typical 40 minute class went something like this for Mr. Bundy.

Write our science lesson on the board.

Be pelted with spit wads from the back of the class. 

Give lecture on lesson of the day.

Be pelted with paper wads from the back of the class.

Give homework assignment for the next day.

Be pelted with erasers, paper wads and spit wads from the back of the class.

He would turn around slowly and say, “Who did that?” (I wish I could aptly convey his drawl as he muttered it every time.)

The kids would all laugh, and of course no one would confess, and on he went with class.

They called him names when he wasn’t looking so he wouldn’t know who did it, they at least knew he had some power and there would be consequences if they were caught.

Spit wads, paper wads, pencils, erasers, you name it, they threw it.

Every.

Single.

Day.

If Mr. Bundy thought he had snagged himself a perpetrator, he would saunter up to them, get right down in their face and with breath that would make a dragon proud he would say, “Do you want to go out in the hall?”

That was his threat and he actually carried it through many times. Some even were sent to the principal but would only receive a scolding and go right back to their sinful ways.

Be it known right here, I was usually very quiet and well-behaved, for the most part. I didn’t talk back to my teachers or elders. Unfortunately, I was a typical teenager and did back-talk my parents. I regret that. But that is another post for another day.

I knew better than to throw paper wads, spit wads, etc. and would never holler anything out in class.

Meet The Biggest Chicken in our Freshman Class.

I was terrified of being called out or getting in trouble for anything.

So, one fine day in Mr. Bundy’s Science Class, circa 1976, I was minding my own business, quietly sitting next to one of my best friends since first grade, Julia, when Mr. Bundy came up beside me and slapped me on the wrist with his ruler!! What had I done?? I’m the good one, the quiet one, the almost-on-your-side average student.

With terror in my eyes I looked up and had the nerve to ask, “What did I do?” Squeaking all the way lest he hit me again.

“You were humming!! I don’t allow humming in my class! Do it again and you are out in the hall.”

I was humming? I didn’t even realize I was humming but Julia said I was, although since she could barely hear me I am not sure how Mr. Bundy, in his ancient state of decline, had heard me.

I was humiliated, embarrassed, hurt, disgraced, shamed, etc., etc., to say the least.

My reign had come to an end. The good little girl had received her first demerit in all of her almost-nine-years in public school. What was this world coming to when you couldn’t absentmindedly hum in class? (smile) Humming meant happiness and our class sure needed some of that.

Today, parents would be in the school office so fast Mr. Bundy’s head would spin but back then it was not usually a big deal unless he had left a bruise. (I am pretty sure I had a red mark for hours!)

With tears in my eyes and my head down I went back to work. I’m not sure what all went through my 14 year old mind that day but I don’t remember being angry at Mr. Bundy. I was upset with the rest of the class. I was mad that they pushed this man to his limits every day and didn’t care. I wasn’t perfect by any means, I laughed sometimes too. But Julia and I always wondered what his real life was like? (Julia would never say anything bad about anyone!) What made him the way he was? More importantly, when did the abuse from the students begin? It wasn’t with our class; it had gone on for years, a rite of passage, so to speak?

What causes us to demean others and make them feel unimportant and under-appreciated?

And most importantly, am I still guilty as an adult? Jesus Christ said, “…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”  Matthew 25:40.

[Tweet “Do I treat others as I want to be treated? Even those, or especially those, in my own household?”]

No, I do not.

But the Bible is very clear about our attitudes and our actions.

“Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” Colossians 3:13.

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” 1 Thessalonians 5:11.

What if that person is difficult, hard to get along with? We wonder why we have to put up with them at all. God may allow these people in our lives to build character in us, to learn, grow and become more like Him through our difficulties and trials.

“But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. Now the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.” James 3:17-18.

“If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men.” Romans 12:18.

No matter how they treat us, how ugly or spiteful, Jesus said to strive, to try with all of your might to live peaceably.

We can only accomplish that when we know Him, spend time with Him and endeavor to be more like Him.

So if you have a Mr. Bundy in your life, do your best to realize his life might not be going the way he would like and your kindness, your smile, your attempt at Christ-likeness, might mean the difference in his day…or even his salvation.

Do you have your copy of my new book The Daniel Fast Devotional?  It’s available in paperback at Barnes and Noble online and also in paperback and kindle on Amazon! Great for any fast, it has 21 days of devotions, three days of preparation devotions before your fast and lots of great DF approved recipes. A handy tool to keep with you all year long. Be blessed!

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