Report cards came out this week in Bossier Parish.  I suspect there is crying and gnashing of teeth in several homes as we speak.  Truth be told, we never have any cruel and unusual punishment at the McCoy house on report card day. It’s not that McCoy boys are Bill Gates smart or that I’m too lazy to pass out a butt whippin’ when it’s needed.  It’s that I don’t believe in report cards. 

I only see the report card as the evidence of what we probably should have already known.  For the Three Musketeer McCoy boys, we get butt whippings for the things that lead to bad report cards.  Not doing homework, not studying for tests, talking in class; all those things.  Usually, if you’ve got those things handled, then report cards pretty well take care of themselves.  

Course, that means that we’re not standing around on report card day passing out ten dollar bills for every “A” either.  It must suck to be a McCoy kid.  Hey, if they want a ten spot, there are leaves that need to be raked and something probably needs to be painted.  I mean, school is their job and 3 squares and a roof over their head is the paycheck.  If they want a “bonus” they need to do “bonus” work. 

Several years ago, a good friend, Tim Hulett, the baseball coach at Evangel High School, told me to never judge the outcome of a game by the results of the score.  What that meant to me was plain and simple.  Daddy had preached the message to me my whole life.  “It’s not who wins or loses, it’s how you play that counts.” 

What if a McCoy boy does all his homework;  pays attention in class (mouth closed and eyes straight ahead) and he studies for a test only to lock up at test time and fail miserably?  His report card says he failed, but old Dad; well, let’s just say, old Dad isn’t passing out any butt whippings.  

Course, that’s just how this man sees it.

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