The Withdrawal
Military School, those words send chills down my spine. I often wondered what I did to deserve such a punishment, but then again I guess I should have seen it coming.
In Nigeria, my country, it is impossible for a person to hold an office in the government without having served in the military. My father, who is presently in the government, wanted me to follow in his footsteps. It was my dream at that time, to go into the government like my dad but I never fully realized what I would have to pass through in order to fulfill my goal.
My father wanted to send me to military school when I became of age; he wanted me to get an early taste of life in the military as he felt it would be to my advantage as opposed to direct enrollment in the military, like he did. But as a father, he was wary and apprehensive. Unknowingly, I made his job a lot easier with my unruly behavior in my middle school. I was very ill mannered and I had violent tendencies. The straw that broke the camel's back was when I got into a fight at school and severely beat my opponent to a bloody pulp. That was the day my father made up his mind to send me to a military school at the start of the next school year.
In my first year of high school I ended up in military school. All my friends went to regular high schools but I had an entirely different life ahead of me. It was absolutely terrifying. In my new school, they were very particular about academics but they didn’t stop there. They broke you until you learned discipline. They tortured you until you felt no pain. I was in my personal hell. I was living a nightmare that had become my life. This was not the life for me; it had to stop.
After my first term at military school, I returned home for the Christmas break/holiday. On my way home, I formulated a plan to force my parents to withdraw me from military school. I had never been so determined to succeed at something. I put my plan in motion right from the moment I stepped through the doors of my house. I gave my parents “the cold treatment”. I wanted them to see that sending me to military school was a big mistake. I did not want them to think that I had become a confident young man ready to take on the world, but in fact, it was quite the opposite; I had become a scared and timid recluse. For weeks I answered any questions they asked me as coldly and as briefly as possible. I told them that it was the military style of answering questions. I kept to myself and told them that was what we were trained to do. My non verbal build up had already set up the stage for the confrontation I was looking for.
On Christmas Eve, I executed the biggest part of my plan. My family has a tradition of gathering in the sitting room to wait for the hour hand to strike 12, for a brief celebration. Once this happened I said “Merry Christmas” in the coldest way imaginable, Then I wandered off to my bedroom to “reflect” on my life. I did this knowing fully well that my parents would follow me. As planned, later that night, they both walked into my bedroom to talk to me. I didn’t start talking until they persuaded me to open up. I was buying myself time to build a dramatic effect. When I finally started talking, I slowly built up my tempo, from a slight stutter to an emotionally piercing timbre, just to elaborate my point. I immediately told them that military school wasn’t making me a stronger, better person; it was torture. I explained to them that every second I spent in that school ate out a fraction of my soul. To introduce logos, I showed them the marks I had gotten from beatings courtesy of the military instructors of the school. I told them about how we were starved to build our endurance and how some upperclass men bully and assault the younger students. I explained to them that I was scared something atrocious was going to happen to me and how sometimes in school I wish I was dead. I gave credit to my fears and worries by showing them some articles I found online which had to do with various forms of evil that occur in military schools. I showed my parents three stories to be precise. The first was about a 14 year old boy who got beat up by his roommates who were 16 and 17 years old [1], the second was about a teacher who sexually abused his students [2] and the third was about a boy who used an electric drill to bore holes into another boy's palm [3].
The look on my parents' faces said it all, at this point I knew I had them where I wanted, I knew that my gesture within the next few minutes was going to be vital. I ensured I made my point of how detached I had become by never looking at them directly in their eyes and periodically staring across the room, idly searching for something that wasn’t really there. When I was convinced that I had made my point about military school killing me, I told them that I loved them and if they didn’t want to lose their little boy forever, they would withdraw me from military school. For my big finale, I looked both of them straight in the eyes for the first time during that holiday period and told them that all I really wanted for Christmas was to get transferred out of military school. Then I broke down in tears.
The next term, I was transferred without any hassle to another high school. It was like a dream come true for me. I was finally out of military school. Although I got transferred to a Catholic high school, it was a massive improvement for me. My parents didn’t have to worry about my safety anymore, I didn’t have to endure any more torture and I had actually learned how to keep a lid on my attitude. It was a win-win situation for everyone. Mission complete.
I learned a lot of things from that experience, but what stood out the most to me was the way I persuaded my parents to withdraw me from military school. I manipulated them so coyly into seeing things my way. On further retrospection, I analyzed the elements of rhetoric I used.
I was trying to persuade my audience to believe that military school was bad. I wanted my parents to withdraw me from military school. I was able to persuade them easily because they were my parents and would be more vulnerable to pathos. I also took advantage of the holiday season, Christmas Eve to be specific, to play on my parents’ morality and duty as parents to keep me happy.
I had the advantage of ethos because I was the one who attended the military school and hence I was the one with the experience. I was the only reliable source they had and being their child, they expect me to be completely honest with them.
Pathos was evidently the most predominant element of rhetoric I used. I played on my parents’ consciences and emotions. I made them mentally visualize me in pain. Knowing no reasonable parent would ignore his or her child if that child were in pain, I centralized my campaign on this fact. I reinforced it by my physical gestures: never looking them directly in the eye, slight stammers, and finally by crying. Psychologically, the sight of a crying male triggers a concerned response in most people because males aren’t known to cry for trivial issues. The fact that a situation makes a male cry raises concerns about the severity of the situation. Shedding tears was probably the mortar that held my entire argument in one piece. I confirmed my thesis during a conversation I had with my father recently over the phone. I randomly brought up the topic of military school then I asked him what got to you the most about the issue and what ultimately made him withdraw me from military school, after a brief moment of silence, he replied “The fact that I couldn't look him in the eye when I spoke, and my break down”. He went on to say that he had never seen me cry like that before and that was the breaking point for him.
I also included a little bit of logos in my argument. I showed my parents the marks on my body that I received from beatings. I used this as a concrete fact to compliment my argument and give credibility to it. I also referred to the articles I read on the internet about people getting beat up in military schools. This added a feel of logos to my campaign to get out of military school.
On scrutiny, my subconscious mastery of the art of rhetoric was fundamental to my argument and eventually led to the success of my campaign. The analysis of my rhetoric style has expanded my perspective on the subject and created room for improvement. The fact I was able to persuade my parents to change my school made me realize I had some power over my parents. I was able to manipulate them by my actions and use of words. Thus, I discovered power in gestures, I discovered the power of words and I discovered the power of rhetoric in a good campaign.

Sources:
- Dudley, Liz. "Two Cadets Charged in Hazing."PennLive.com. N.p., n.d. Web. 06 Feb. 2013.{1}
- Provence, Lisa. "Moyer Spanked: FUMA Fugitive Hid in Mexico."The Hook. N.p., n.d. Web. 06 Feb. 2013. {2}
- Cross, John. "Want More US News? "Msnbc.com. N.p., n.d. Web. 06 Feb. 2013.{3}
- Brief Conversation with dad.