77. School Days and School Fights
BY JOHN BARNARD (1687-1700)
I, JOHN BARNARD, was born at Boston, November
6, 1681. My parents were respectable and very pious and
charitable. In the spring of my eighth year I was sent to the
grammar school.
My master was the aged and famous Mr. Ezekiel Cheever,
and well he merited the fame so heartily given him. I have
many interesting memories of him.
He placed me in the lowest class, but finding that I soon read
through my books, he put me, after a few weeks, into a
higher class, and the next year made me the head of it.
Although my master put me in a higher class, I was a very
naughty boy, much given to play. So at last he said before
all: "You, Barnard, I know you can do well enough if you
will. But you are so full of play that you hinder your
classmates from getting their lessons. Therefore, if any of
them cannot say their lessons I shall correct you for it."
One unlucky day, one of my classmates did not look into his
book, so he could not say his lesson, although I had once and
again told him to mind his book. Therefore, my master beat
me. I told my master the reason why he could not-say his
lesson was his saying that he would beat me if any of the
class could not do their part in lessons. Ever since
he said that this boy would not look into his book though I
told him to mind his book as the class could prove.
The boy was pleased with my being punished and
kept on failing in his lessons. For this I was still punished,
and so for several days. I thought in justice I ought to punish
the boy, and make him do better.
So, after school was done, I went up to him and told him I
had been beaten several times for his failures. I told him that
since the master would not punish him I would, and I should
do so as often as I was punished for him. Then I drubbed
him well. The boy never came to school any more. And so
that unfortunate matter ended.
Though I was often beaten for my play, and my
little roguish tricks, yet I don't remember that I was ever
beaten for my lessons more than once or twice.
Once, in a Latin lesson, my master found fault with the way
I used a word. It was not used so by me, carelessly, but on
purpose. So I told him there was a plain grammar rule for it.
He angrily replied there was no such rule. I took the
grammar and showed the rule to him. Then he smilingly
said, "Thou art a brave boy. I had forgotten it." And no
wonder; for he was then more than eighty years old.
