WenkUSA

TESTING THE LIMITS

My four years in elementary school were remarkable only for the fact that my teacher was consistently rating me as disturbing his teaching efforts. He communicated this clearly to my parents by writing in my report cards remarks such as "Ernstli disturbs the class" and "Ernstli still disturbs the class."

My father was strict but fair. No parent worth its salt could ignore such matters. These were the late twenties and Switzerland was reasonably advanced in educational affairs. My father did what he thought best, apply a healthy spanking. The result was zilch. Which was good. After all I was not bad, just active.

We had the same teacher, Herr (big) Schäublin, for the first four years. Disruptive as it often was, my enthusiasm survived. Eventually, way past grade school, my teacher's remarks became kinder. But in my first school years I was repeatedly in trouble.

The first time I had to stay after class I was shocked. Why did my teacher punish me just for jumping up when something exciting was going on in class? What was he going to do to me? Would he even remember my detention at the end of the day? I decided to find out.

When school was out I left and went across from the school to an aunt who lived there alone. She was not a real aunt but I called her aunt as she was in some unknown way related to our family. She was old and everything around her was old, really old. You could see it, you could smell it and you could feel it all over you. In her ancient ways she was always kind to us children.

She was surprised to see me. Watching the school through the smelly, stale curtains I told her that I was now past Kindergarten and was attending the big school across the street. She was curious and looked at me with some doubt in her eyes. What did she know? Did I give myself away?

It became clear to me that at the school across the street my absence did not show in any way. All the kids were gone and no teacher was in sight. Well, so much for staying after school. Empty threats! Much bark, no bite! Nothing to worry about.

Before my aunt could ask too many questions I said good bye and headed for home. I did not take the shortest way home, hopped through a small park, played with some sticks and pebbles, watched some squirrels and birds and eventually reached our house taking plenty of time and feeling great. Approaching the front door I saw my teacher in the doorway talking to my father. I noticed they just finished their conversation and both nodded their heads in apparent agreement, then the teacher left.

I became anxious. I wondered what their agreement was about? Still confident I approached my father. My confidence sank when my father picked me up gave me a solid spanking and went back to his work. All this happened in silence. Well, not entirely in silence as my sobs broke the silence. But there were no words spoken, no counseling done, no explanation given or ask for. None were needed. Everybody involved knew where the line was drawn in the sand.

STORYTELLER: Ernst Wenk (1923-)

PHOTO: Herr Schäublin with his fourth grade pupils.
Look for the boy sitting in the center of the bottom row with both his knees nicely and evenly positioned. This is well behaved cousin Werner Wenk. Little troublemaker Ernstli Wenk is just above and a bit to the left with an open collar. This picture was taken way after the testing of the limits and may show signs of improvement.