And then standing up when it was all over, trying to hold back the tears, opening the door and walking as bravely as I could past the headmaster’s secretary who was sitting outside the study door in the next room where she could hear the sounds of caning from the inner sanctum, sitting quietly at her desk typing away, smiling slightly at me as she sat comfortably on her soft round bottom that hadn’t felt the sting of the cane, watching me as I walked painfully past her desk. How miserable I felt, thinking of that contrast between my pain and her comfort.

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