My last days at Linton Hall: School is out!

The best thing about being in the eighth grade was knowing with complete certainty that it would be my last year at Linton Hall Military School.

That didn't really sink in at first, since I had a long academic year ahead of me, and was wrapped up in the novelty and demands of being an officer, but, sometime around May, I started counting down the days remaining. Then, a few days before graduation, I started counting the hours until my time at Linton Hall would be over.

One thing I remember about the last few days at Linton Hall is that the NCOs (non-commissioned officers, in other words, sargeants) from the seventh grade were left in charge, probably to give them some preparation for being officers the following year, but possibly because after we had received (or not received) our medals on Military Day, many of us didn't care too much about our responsibilities as officers.

We had more free time, and one afternoon the entire eighth grade got to go swimming. I can still recall us changing in a room in the poolhouse, a bunch of 13 to 15 year old boys as sexually developed as we were going to get before leaving Linton Hall Military School, having Sister Doris Nolte, O.S.B. (then known as Sister Mary David OSB) there in the room seeing us naked (watching is a more precise word) as we faced the wall while undressing, trying to avoid her seeing our private parts.

When we went to the pool she sat in the lifeguard's chair, fully dressed in her nun's habit. I wondered -- and feared -- what would happen if someone were about to drown. Would she be willing and able to jump in the pool in her habit and rescue the hapless boy? Just how important was safety? Why wasn't Bill or Linton Hall's Commandant there in her place?

Coming back to the dorms from the pool, I noticed that my bed had been remade, not as well as I had made it that morning, and my mattress had been replaced by one in better shape. The nun who was my dorm prefect said that it was being done so the graduating cadets would sleep better on the last couple of nights, and we would have better memories of Linton Hall Military School after we left.  She knew what was going on -- just like one of the cadets had observed that on the Fridays when we went home, the school lunch was better, so that if our parents asked us what we had eaten for lunch, we would describe that day's lunch, and not the typical meal we ate on other days at Linton Hall.

Another activity for the graduates was a "High Mass" at the Linton Hall convent. There was some really good musical accompaniment to the Mass; good singing by some nuns whom I had never seen before because they did not teach at Linton Hall Military School, and an especially memorable trumpet solo by a nun playing Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring." I had not heard much classical music before, and did not learn the name of the composition until many years later, when I heard it again and recognized it, but I still remember watching the trumpet playing nun's face, her cheeks puffing out and turning red, as she played.

One evening, possibly our last evening at Linton Hall Military School, we graduates had dinner at tables that had been set up in the lounge next to the Principal's office. Some of the seventh graders served as waiters. If any of them are reading this, thank you. Over forty years later, I realize how uncomfortable it must have been to serve the graduates excellent food, when the "waiters" had eaten just another ordinary meal. Since we weren't allowed to have money, we couldn't even leave them a tip!

That was the only meal I ate from a china plate (instead of a metal tray) at Linton Hall Military School, and if I'm not mistaken, we each had a steak, same as those steaks whose smell we had noticed coming out of the nun's dining room so many times.

We had also done a dry run of the graduation ceremony, and the Linton Hall Commandant had said that if anyone was not graduating (because he had failed eighth grade) he would still be called to the stage and would receive a diploma holder just like anyone else, but there would be a blank sheet of paper instead of a Linton Hall Military School diploma inside, so that he would not be embarrassed in front of anyone. That was one of the few occasions I can recall of the Linton Hall school administrators not being concerned about embarrassing someone.

We wore white gloves with our dress uniforms at graduation, and paper is more slippery when handled with cotton gloves than with bare hands. One cadet, sitting near me, opened his diploma folder and found a piece of white paper inside, then struggled with his gloved fingers for several seconds that, to him, must have felt like an eternity, as he tried to lift it to see whether or not his diploma was underneath. I wanted to tell him that the white paper was just a protective sheet on top of the diploma, but of course we weren't allowed to speak. After a few seconds he was able to lift the paper to uncover his diploma. He happened to be the cadet with the second-highest grade point average, but Linton Hall Military School was such an unpredictable place that anything was possible.   Both he and the cadet with the highest grade point average had already arbitrarily been deprived of the honor of speaking at graduation, as I've related in my previous blog post, "How awards were given (or denied) at Linton Hall Military School."

When I left after graduating, I did not look back, literally or figuratively. I made no attempt to keep in touch either with those in my graduating class, or with others. Staying in touch would have meant reliving old memories, which I wanted to set aside. And how could I write to friends who were still there and tell them of how different, and wonderful, life after Linton Hall was?

Occasionally, I had nightmares about still being at Linton Hall, and when I woke up, I would feel my bed in the dark, notice that it was my bed at home and not the one at Linton Hall Military School, and go back to sleep. Such dreams became less frequent as the years went on, and less intense, since in later years I would dream that as an adult I was spending a weekend there (to relive the experience? -- dreams don't make much sense) but as an adult I dreamt that my car was parked behind the building, near the Commandant's Jeep, and I could leave anytime I wanted.

During waking hours I did not think about Linton Hall, but my focus was on all the opportunities that my newly restored freedom provided, from deciding what clothes to wear every day, to walking to school or the store, to what my first school dance would be like.

In 1972, I got an invitation from the school to an alumni reunion in observance of the 50th anniversary of the founding of Linton Hall Military School. I had no interest in going, and didn't.

Then in 1978, I happened to see an ad for Linton Hall in the Washington Post and sent away for a brochure, just to see whether the school had changed.

In 1980 I visited on Military Day. Other than the school having dropped the word "military" from its name, it seemed to be the same. Having grown up during the sixties and seventies, the thought had passed through my mind of picketing the school and handing out fliers on Military Day (I was in my early twenties at the time) but I didn't; I just observed for a couple of hours and did not speak to the nuns or Commandant.

It wasn't until around twenty years later that one day, when I happened to be driving on Route 66 in Virginia near Gainesville, I decided, on the spur of the moment, to make a detour to see Linton Hall Military School. The four or five mile trip to Linton Hall, which had previously been a deserted country road, was now packed with houses and townhouses. I wondered whether the school was still there at all. Then I saw it and drove up to the building. It was summer, and there didn't seem to be anyone around. I was about to get out of the car and knock on the front door to ask for permission to walk around the place, when a flood of memories came back, and I decided not to, but just drove around the building and left.

A few years later, as the internet grew, I found Charles Carreon's description of a typical day there, and later found Augustus Cho's book "Great Light Will Shine III: Linton Hall Military School" and ordered it. (1) Although he had written it decades after having been there, his recollections were crystal clear, as if he had written about everything the next day. I also saw the school's website, and found out that the school was now much different, and much better, than it had been in the past.

But there wasn't much else out there describing the conditions that I, and thousands of others, had experienced at Linton Hall Military School, things that had been actively hidden from parents through the school's long-standing practice of censoring all outgoing mail.

In March 2010, I decided to write about those things. A blog just happened to be the easiest way to share my memories on the web. I said what I felt needed to be said, and thought that would be it.

It wasn't until three months later that I wrote my second post, in which I discussed my experiences from an adult point of view. And I thought that would be my last word, which it was for the following six months.

Six months later, I started blogging in earnest, and have since written around 30 posts about Linton Hall Military School. Two of them I have not put on the web, but shared them just with other alumni on Facebook, since they were about specific individuals.

During the two years since I began writing this blog, I've heard from many other alumni, who attended Linton Hall Military School from the 1940s through the present day. I thank each and every one of you who has shared your thoughts and memories. Some of you view your experience there in a positive way, and although we disagree, I thank you for allowing me to consider your point of view.

There were cadet officers there who overstepped their authority. I forgive you for what you've done to me. At the same time, having been an officer myself, I realize that there were times when I called those under my command "a mess," "stupid," and similar words, trying to make them feel bad about themselves. I ask for your forgiveness, and hope that you did not believe what I said about you.

I believe that forgiveness is appropriate only for those who are truly sorry for their actions. I extend my forgiveness to those among the adults in charge who repent and apologize. Even those who did not mete out excessive punishment, tacitly allowed it through their silence. For example, when children who are seven or eight years old were humiliated and intentionally subjected to ridicule by being forced to wear their urine-soaked pajama bottoms around their neck all day, there was no was that nuns who taught or supervised the playground could not be aware of this. In a school where children wear uniforms, this can be spotted from a hundred feet away.

But no, in its official website the Benedictine sisters of Bristow, Virginia still deny this aspect of the past and claim that Linton Hall Military School "soon gained an international reputation for instilling leadership, integrity and character in its students." (2) Come on, the statute of limitations has long passed, why not do the right thing and admit what you did wrong?

I've since heard from recent alumni, and every indication is that today's Linton Hall School is a pretty good place, nothing like it was at the time I attended. I don't know what brought about these changes. Was it a desire to correct the past, or was it only a reaction to parental pressure and declining enrollment? When I look at my old yearbooks, I see that, without considering those graduating, only slightly more than half the students returned from one year to the next. Sounds like a big sign of dissatisfaction to me. Why did they simply drop the word "military" and start referring to themselves as "Linton Hall School" so many years before discontinuing the military program? Why did it take so long for the school to change and realize its potential?

Although I may have said many critical things about Linton Hall Military School, I've done my best to present a fair, balanced viewpoint and have written several times about the good academics and unique opportunities for camping and hiking that were provided by the school's extensive landholdings (over 1,700 acres when I was there.) With those resources, this could have been a wonderful school.

To my fellow cadets, we had a tough time there, and many of you had it far, far worse than I did. I wish you all the very best, and hope you had many good things happen to you in the years after you left.

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Read more in my two books: Linton Hall Military School Memories: One Cadet's Memoir" and "Linton Hall Military School Memories Volume 2."

The first volume is available only from amazon.com (or for shipments to Mexico, amazon.com.mx) The second volume (either English or Spanish version is available on Amazon as well as barnesandnoble.com and walmart.com in the US. In Mexico, it's available from either amazon.com.mx or lulu.com. Prices to Mexico may be shown in Mexican pesos.

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Footnotes:
1. "Great Light Will Shine III: Linton Hall Military School" by Augustus Cho, available at lulu.com
2. Brochure quoted in the June 8, 2012 entry at http://lhmscadet.wordpress.com
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Copyright 2013 by "Linton Hall Cadet."
Please respect copyright by linking to this post instead of copying and pasting.
This blog is not affiliated with Linton Hall Military School and all opinions are those of the author.
Comments are always welcome; please do not use your name or names of others.

Special Sunday Treat at Linton Hall Military School

There was a special treat for us on Sundays. Something besides the donut we got at breakfast. Something besides the smug irony of noticing that when there was a second serving line, the bread was kept inside a clean garbage can, lined with a black plastic bag, so we were -- literally -- eating out of trash cans.

But there was another special treat, one reserved just for officers. Over the nine months of the school year, we spent about two Sundays a month a Linton Hall Military School, for a total of about eighteen Sundays. And there just happened to be eighteen officers, too, three for each of the five companies, plus three battalion staff.

I hadn't really noticed what the special treat was, since I was too busy dealing with the cadets under my command, and worshiping during Mass, in spite of distractions such as Sister Theresa's shouted exhortations to sing louder, and the "ouches" from kids she would hit in the hand with a paddle whenever they didn't sing loud enough for her.

But one day, just as I was about to enter the gym, another cadet informed me that I would get to accompany the Principal, Sister Mary David, during Mass. I had never noticed other officers doing this before. I'm not sure whether you did this if you happened to be "Officer of the Day" on that Sunday, or whether there was a schedule so that every officer got this "privilege."

So anyway, I had to walk in with her, not sure if beside her or with her actually holding my arm as she would with an usher escorting her down the aisle at a wedding. Now kids are notoriously unable to hold back their emotions and keep a "poker face," and my feelings about having to do this must have been pretty obvious. I must have looked as if I had been forced to chew a sour lemon, or a bar of soap, and I'm sure she noticed.

After I accompanied to her seat I was about to return to my company, but no, she told me that I was expected to sit next to her during the entire Mass. More unhappy facial expressions on my part, I'm sure. She made a cutting remark about some small imperfection in my uniform, taking advantage of the fact that I couldn't talk back to her -- not if I knew what was good for me. She probably thought, in her haughtiness, that accompanying her at Mass was some type of honor or privilege, but I certainly didn't feel that way. Even back then I realized that she was a great Math teacher, and an effective manager/administrator, but on the other hand she was responsible for all the suffering that went on at Linton Hall Military School, everything I've written about, and moreover took active steps to censor outgoing mail to keep the truth from getting out, so I had no respect for her.

I am sure that if there had been nineteen Sundays spent at Linton Hall Military School that academic year, I would have been the last person she would have chosen to reward with this special treat a second time.

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Read more in my two books: Linton Hall Military School Memories: One Cadet's Memoir" and "Linton Hall Military School Memories Volume 2."

The first volume is available only from amazon.com (or for shipments to Mexico, amazon.com.mx) The second volume (either English or Spanish version is available on Amazon as well as barnesandnoble.com and walmart.com in the US. In Mexico, it's available from either amazon.com.mx or lulu.com. Prices to Mexico may be shown in Mexican pesos.

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Copyright 2012 by "Linton Hall Cadet."
Please respect copyright by linking to this post instead of copying and pasting.
This blog is not affiliated with Linton Hall Military School and all opinions are those of the author.
Comments are always welcome; please do not use your name or names of others.

Did we learn leadership at Linton Hall Military School?

Linton Hall, and other military schools, often tout their ability to turn boys into "leaders." And those who do achieve officer status certainly look and play the part. I know I did. But is that really leadership?

Leadership is generally defined as "the ability to influence others to achieve a common objective." I would thus define good leadership as involving both a good objective, and good, ethical means of achieving influence. An example of good leadership would occur when you take visiting relatives to see your local city, and you take into account the needs and desires of the group as a whole (which might not be exactly the needs and desires of each individual.) You might find an activity that everyone enjoys, schedule rest and bathroom breaks, pay attention to others' reactions (things such as boredom, discomfort, tiredness, which they might not actually tell you about in order to be polite) and so on. And a good leader would put the needs and wants of the entire group (of which he is part) over his own needs and wants. He might pay for most or all the expenses, or if the others insist on paying but he knows they cannot afford it, choose inexpensive or free activities.

Another example would be that of a teacher whose goal is for everyone in the classroom to learn as much as possible, to learn the more important and useful skills and facts, to be motivated to learn. Such a teacher would be more than just responsive to questions and feedback; he would take into account which teaching methods and textbooks worked best, and use them so that there would be little need for questions and complaints.

I am convinced that at Linton Hall Military School, with its large number of rules covering the most minute details and every conceivable activity of the day, and scheduling every moment of the day, was an environment where the officers were simply enforcing rules that everyone had to follow, and not exercising true leadership. From personal experience (I was an officer during the entire school year while in eighth grade) I know that good leadership, true leadership, was not expected from me, nor was it really allowed. I was simply an enforcer. I used fear, intimidation, threats of punishment and actual punishment to achieve the objectives of the adults (ultimately the principal, Sister Mary David O.S.B.) who was the final authority on all matters. I was doing exactly what other officers were doing to others, what officers had done to me from the time I had entered Linton Hall, and what other officers would do for the rest of Linton Hall's existence as a military school (that is, until it became Linton Hall School.)

It was only on rare occasions that I and other officers were able to decide to do what was actually best for the cadets under our command, instead of what we were expected to do automatically and without question. This often happened during field hikes, but rarely during daily activities.

One such occasion, was when it was bitterly cold and windy during drill, as it often was in Bristow, Virginia. The officers were permitted to take us on bathroom breaks in the warm (but dirty and smelly) bathroom downstairs under the Commandant's office. I was still a private, and had no say in the matter, but the breaks on that day were unusually long, in order to give us a break from the bitter cold. I remember the platoon leaders and company commanders of different companies negotiating amongst themselves as to which platoons had had a long enough break and would have to return out into the cold, so that if Mary David or the Commandant were to look out from their warm offices, they would see some of us marching. It goes without saying that they were risking their rank by bending (or breaking) the rules to such an extent.

Another time was when the entire battallion was being punished because the culprit, or culprits for some infraction had not been identified. I don't remember what the infraction was, but there were so many rules that it well have been something that in most schools would have not been considered wrong at all. School administrators had no qualms about punishing the innocent; perhaps the school motto should have been "Better for many innocent boys to be punished, than for one guilty boy to go free."

The punishment was to run in circles, many circles, around the blacktop. Many of us were exhausted but had to keep on running under threat of even worse punishment -- beyond what was being meted out unjustly in the first place. There was a wall, called a windbreak, and the officers would allow a few cadets to rest and catch their breath while the rest of us kept running the circle around the blacktop. Every time the runners completed a circle and arrived at the windbreak, those who had been resting would rejoin the runners, and it would be time for some of the others to take their turn and rest. I was not an officer yet, and still marvel at how the officers were able to agree on doing this, and coordinate the change of who was running with who was resting, during the few seconds that we were behind the windbreak and were out of view of the Commandant. Keep in mind, we weren't just a disorganized group, but while running had to keep the same formation of platoons and squads as when we marched.

The only explanation I can think of is that all officers had been at Linton Hall Military School at least the previous year (this happened during my first year at Linton Hall) and that this had happened before, perhaps a long tradition of officers showing kindness, and of cadets remembering this kindness and passing it on when they became officers.

What amazes me even more is that, in an environment in which such a large proportion of the student body was ready to rat out on others and take pleasure in their being punished, not one cadet revealed what had happened, even though the whole battallion of 200 or more cadets knew what was going on. It is only now, over forty years later, that I am discussing this.

On the other hand, there were too many times when officers insisted on strict adherence to the rules, instead of doing what was best for either the individuals or the group. The first time I went camping at Linton Hall, we were getting our gear ready, and there was another cadet in my company who was having trouble rolling up his sleeping bag and tying it to his backpack with the two canvas straps. He was new (as I was) and had never done this before, and was getting extremely frustrated, so I decided to help him. It was easier for two people to do this, one holding the tightly rolled sleeping bag, the other tightening the straps. This was a minor act of kindness, like holding a door open, in the outside world; something most outsiders would do automatically, without even thinking about such a minor gesture. But no, my company commander saw me doing this and wouldn't allow me to help, or even to show him how to do it, so he would learn how. (I was still new, and actually asked the company commander to allow me to at least show the other cadet how it was done. A bit naive of a lowly private, or recruit, to even try getting a captain to allow me to do the right thing.)

I am embarrassed to admit (the fact that I write under a pen name comes in handy here) that by the time I had become an officer I too had lost much of my kindness. One time a boy in my company had dressed quickly and messily for the weekend parade. I yelled at him and called him a mess, embarrassing him in front of his peers, while attempting to enhance my image as a tough guy. How much better it would have been if I had said to him, "This is your first year here, and I know that it's hard to get your uniform on right . I had trouble with it too when I first came here. Here, let me show you how to put the elastic at the bottom of your pants so it's even. Make sure your tie is on straight too." I know this now, and probably knew it before I entered Linton Hall, but managed to un-learn it while I was there. I could have gotten far better results, and would have had the kid's respect and admiration, instead of his fear and contempt for being a total (insert here all the words that would have caused me to be forced to chew a bar of soap.)

To be fair to myself, there were many occasions when I could tell that someone had broken a rule unintentionally and I did not punish him, and one time when the prefect of our dorm told me to punish someone who I knew definitely did not deserve it, I very quietly ignored her instructions ond let him off. There were a couple of times too when I went to bat for someone who had been unjustly or excessively punished by either an equally-ranking officer, or a higher-ranking one, and I spoke with the other officer in private to have the punishment mitigated. I tried, but unfortunately don't remember ever succeeding.

And, finally, there was one time when Sister Mary David punished me for something I didn't do. Not that she would bother with such small details as guilt or innocence. I don't know exactly what went on, but I strongly suspect that she discussed this event with the Commandant, Max Du Charme, and that he went to bat for me. He couldn't overrule her since she was the final authority, but I think it extremely likely that he tried to intercede in my favor.

Okay, back to leadership. I would not argue that fear, intimidation and the use of physical punishment resulted in obedience at Linton Hall -- just as they do during an armed robbery. But did we learn anything about leadership? Anything that could be applied in the world outside the walls of Linton Hall Military School? I can only think of a few settings where such tactics would work, places like the military and prisons, whose inhabitants have little choice about whether or not they follow orders.

Outside of such settings, influence, not fear and intimidation, are the tools used to lead. This is the case with college students working on a group project, or even a group of friends coming to a consensus on how to spend the evening. Determining what the common goal is (or should be,) and organizing the means to do so are the way to lead and get results. I am saddened to say that these are not lessons I learned at Linton Hall. When I found myself in high school, working on a group project, I lacked the skills that I needed to work in a group in which there were no officers, no orders, and no rank. But I did notice that many of the kids who were involved in drugs, vandalism, shoplifting and other undesirable behaviors often came from the most autocratic homes, often a father who was or had been in the military or police and had been so strict that his children ended up rebelling in very self destructive ways.

Responses are always welcome. Please do not use names.

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Copyright 2011 "Linton Hall Cadet" Please respect copyright by linking to this post instead of just copying and pasting. Thanks!
This blog is NOT affiliated with Linton Hall Military School. The opinions contained are those of the author.