Spare Me the Rods

The mother of a lot of scatterbrained, irresponsible, lazy little knuckleheads has much to be thankful for—the very, very least of which is that after ten or twelve years of driving children nightly to their desks; of finding, explaining, supervising, checking and correcting homework, she finds that she, and she alone, has attained a good grammar school education.

She, and she alone, knows her multiplication tables—not only including, but especially, the eight times. She, and she alone, knows the name of the leader of the Jamestown Colony and the answer to what is Sanctifying Grace and three examples of subordinate clauses—begun by adjoining words—and the capital of Alaska. Only she knows the preamble to the Constitution by heart and the French for “had I had time, I should have completed my assignment.” Which is subjunctive, but not impossible. She is death on accidentals in the hard part of the Moonlight Sonata, which’is peachy, but not as ginger-peachy as if one child ever remembered once about the G sharp in the easy part.

About the Author

Aloïse Buckley Heath

Aloïse Buckley Heath (1918–1967) was the sister of National Review’s founder, William F. Buckley Jr.

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The mother of a lot of scatterbrained, irresponsible, lazy little knuckleheads has much to be thankful for—the very, very least of which is that after ten or twelve years of driving children nightly to their desks; of finding, explaining, supervising, checking and correcting homework, she finds that she, and she alone, has attained a good grammar school education.

She, and she alone, knows her multiplication tables—not only including, but especially, the eight times. She, and she alone, knows the name of the leader of the Jamestown Colony and the answer to what is Sanctifying Grace and three examples of subordinate clauses—begun by adjoining words—and the capital of Alaska. Only she knows the preamble to the Constitution by heart and the French for “had I had time, I should have completed my assignment.” Which is subjunctive, but not impossible. She is death on accidentals in the hard part of the Moonlight Sonata, which’is peachy, but not as ginger-peachy as if one child ever remembered once about the G sharp in the easy part.