Punkin Junkin, Jesuit High School's Prefect of Discipline.

This is not a very pretty story so get ready for a hard core lesson on what not to do if you are a teacher.

I remember reporting to Jesuit for my 8th grade year and I remember it vividly. I knew several of the kids there as some of them had gone to St. Joseph's with me from first to sixth grade. I met several new guys and was quite please with the student body at that point. There were also other upper classmen there that were friends with my brother and things were looking quite different and more refined than boarding school.

To say that Jesuit was an upper class institution was an understatement and I knew things were going be different the minute 1st hour began. It started off with introductions. It wasn't roll call, it was a formal introduction of each student. I thought that was classy and it definitely set the pace for a standard of gentlemanly conduct. Second hour was just as refreshing as the first one as our instructor continued with the outline of things we would be doing and what was expected of us. I liked the structure a lot.

At ten o'clock, the bell rang and we were given a 15 minute break to get a coke and visit the vending machines in the basement. I didn't really get it when the teacher said: "15 minutes only, boys". I guess I didn't think much of that comment because the canteen was right outside our classroom and you could see the vending machines the second you walked out the door.

As soon as we left the classroom, I found myself at the end of a line containing 30 students that were all rushing to get cokes and candy bars from the two machines that were there for us to use. If you do the math and figure out that 30 kids, evenly divided into two machines, was going to take some time. I knew that being last in line was going to eat up most of the break. In any event, by the time I had my coke and managed to get a Baby Ruth out of the candy machine, most of the break was gone. If I was going to make it back to class on time, I knew I would have to chug a lug the coke and slam dunk that Baby Ruth down my throat so I wouldn't be late. That's when the shit hit the fan.

That's when the Prefect of Discipline came into play. He watched me slamming down the Baby Ruth, walked over to me and slapped me harder than anytime I had ever been slapped in my life. I hit the floor and that was my introduction to Father Junkin, a real asshole that I had already been warned about. He looked at me and said: "Get to my office on the first floor, RIGHT NOW". After that, he said: "What's your name"? When I said "Tim Butler", he spun around and walked out of the basement and headed to his office.

I followed him, but I did so at a distance. I'd seen more action than a slap in the face and even though it hurt a lot , I was already preparing myself for an ass whipping, just like boarding school gave for infractions of the rules. Fortunately for HIM, that never came. You'll understand the "Fortunately for Him" story later.

I walked into the office door that was clearly marked "Prefect of Discipline". When I did, Father Junkin had already taken his seat. He looked at me and said:" Butler, if you are anything like  your brother, we don't want you". I was shocked.

He began a long winded speech that went in one ear and out the other because I had already made up my mind that this asshole was going to be my public enemy number 1. Eventually I was released and I returned to the 8th grade classroom way behind the 15 minute time limit. I wasn't punished for that and I immediately concluded that the teacher had heard the story about Junkin knocking me on my ass. I correctly assumed that he already knew that Punkin Junkin was an asshole and didn't want to add insult to injury.

That began a year long battle of wits that I was bound and determined to win. I told Momma what had happened and I could see the look in her eye that could have only come from previous stories from Leland and his classmate friends who had already experienced Punkin Junkin. She knew he was an asshole and she knew that I didn't PLAY.

Over the remaining 9 months of the school year, I did everything I could to piss him off. I rode Leland's 1958 Cushman Eagle to class everyday and I did it because Leland had taken the baffle out of the exhaust pipe and it was as loud as today's Harley Davidson bikes with straight pipes. That infuriated Junkin and he forbid it to be on the school grounds. I began skipping school on a very calculated basis just to piss him off. I made my grades but only did enough work to end up on his shit list again.

With the Cushman Eagle issue solved by banning it from the school grounds, I was forced to ride the bus. I figured out a way to eliminate that from the modus operandi that Junkin had by intentionally getting into a fake fight with a buddy of mine and getting thrown off the school bus.

By the time the year had ended, I was classified as a "Conditional Student". That meant that I would be required to attend Junkin's summer school or be forced to repeat the 8th grade. I don't think I said much of anything at all to him but I am certain that I smiled the smile of a juvenile delinquent and made note that I would rather spend a year in hell than a minute around his sorry ass. That's when I went home and begged Momma to send me back to Morris.

As I close this, try to keep in mind that I knew my decision would require me to spend 13 years to graduate from a 12 year course from 1st grade through 12th. Even though that might seem a bit crazy, it ended up being one of the greatest acts of defiance I experienced in the early years of my life. Junkin had a student that "he miserably failed to control" and I had the satisfaction of not cowering down to the bully he was. Even the upper classmen admired the way I handled him.

My next story will cover my return to Morris. Please comment here or on facebook to let me know you can get to the story. Thanks for the ear. Tim