That comment stirred memories when I taught in Dorchester to inner city 8th graders. Whenever 2 kids went at it or were on the verge of fighting; I would take them down to the basement, strap 2 pairs of 16-ounce gloves on them and let them wail away on each other. By the end of the first round, they were so tired they were suddenly best friends and begging to stop. When it was real hatred it took 2 rounds.
I wonder how that would play out with today's Millenials and their helicopter parents (or my principal for that matter). But back in the day the watchword was "whatever worked". In the end, we did some great stuff that wouldn't be allowed now.