There is never a good excuse for mistreating children

On Dec. 23, I published a column about my high school shop teacher, Joe, now deceased. I criticized him for bullying children -- specifically, for bullying and humiliating me.

A day later, I received this letter, which I have edited for space:

"You didn't get it, but others did. The ones that took the swats and laughed now charge into burning buildings to get the children that you left behind. They didn't know that Joe's past changed him deeply. They knew he was hard. In this culture we celebrate the good done by the dead. We don't whimper about a 30-year-old T-shirt incident. Let it go! I sleep under the blanket of the very freedom provided by Joe, and I don't question the manner in which he provides it. I'm just thankful. It takes no courage to slam a dead man." -- C., residence undisclosed

Gird your loins, C. You couldn't possibly know the bucket into which you have trod.

Took swats and laughed? You make me think of Adolph Hitler, whose father gave him ritual beatings. And Papa quit beating Adolph when Adolph stopped crying.

The lesson? I not only have the right to lay my hands on you in violence whenever and however I like, but you are also forbidden to have feelings about it.

C, you hold up as some standard that, had I "gotten it," then pain and humiliation would make me laugh. Then it would have made me brave and heroic. Let's say it another way: For you, clinical masochism is evidence that I have integrated my culture's deepest values.

You are so right. I don't get it. I'm convinced healthy people don't find pleasure in humiliation, nor do they admire the people who treat them thusly.

Your argument reminds me of former Indiana basketball players under Bobby Knight. Of Patty Hearst's relationship with the Symbionese Liberation Army. Of the way wives who are victims of domestic violence have a disturbing tendency to fire guns at the police officers who come to arrest the offending husband. Ever heard of the Stockholm Syndrome?

Please tell me you see the irony of a man who crosses an ocean to defeat a sadistic tyrant, only to return home and become one in miniature. The irony of a man with the raw courage to stare down bullets and bombshells, but not able to risk real vulnerability in relationship with a 14-year-old boy.

You quote a fictitious Marine colonel, Nathan Jessup. You don't question the way freedom is provided? Really? Don't suppose you ever heard of the My Lai Massacre? Or, more recently, of al-Qaida suspects forced to strip naked and lie upon one another while their captors took photographs?

Did you think the Marlon Brando character in the film "Apocalypse Now" was misunderstood and unfairly persecuted?

See, I have lots of questions about the ethical use of power -- in war and in life. Certainly for those charged with the task of rearing children.

I can explain Joe's behavior, C. But there are lots of things in this world I can explain that I do not excuse. Heavens, I can explain most of my own reprehensible behavior.

You invite me to celebrate the good done by the dead. Great, C. We agree on something. But what, exactly, shall we do with that which isn't good? Does death relieve us of the burden of accountability?

The way Joe treated children was not OK.

You think I'm whimpering about a 30-year-old T-shirt incident? I fear I have carelessly understated my position. I intended to communicate outrage. I hate bullies. Let me catch a local teacher behaving similarly toward one of my children, and nobody at the school district will mistake my position as "whimpering."

It takes no courage to slam a dead man? I think it takes tremendous courage to speak boldly against the past 500 years or so of acculturated barbarism nestled in the bosom of Euro-American child-rearing patterns, not the least because it provokes social backlash and vitriol.

And regardless, C, it's hardly the issue. Living or dead, I will never be silent about the mistreatment of children. I think of it as a moral duty. A sacred calling.

I think of it like charging into a burning building in which children are left behind.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling and Wellness Center in Las Vegas. His columns appear on Tuesdays and Sundays. Questions for the Asking Human Matters column or comments can be e-mailed to skalas@reviewjournal. com.