When I was in second grade, I attended a school that allowed the students to be paddled. It was always done at the Principal’s office and never in public.

I was always a good girl by school standards and never got the paddle. However, my mother was the art teacher at the school and she had different expectations of behaviour.

I was spanked often at home – usually just a few swats on the bottom or a smack on the hand. A few times, at this point in my life, I had received an extended chatisement which was a little more serious. Today was to be one of those days.

I was sitting, working quietly (like the angel I still am!) when Billy took my scissors. I slapped at him and landed a loud slap on his back. My mother seemed to appear instantly at my table.

“Sasha, stand up!” she yelled. I was really scared and suddenly aware of my mother’s presence. I stood quickly, tears welling up in my eyes. “Come with me,” she said as I followed her into the small coat room.

I always wore the one piece dresses at that age and suddenly my mother, who was quite large, scooped me up under her arm. I squealed, not caring that the whole class could clearly hear all that was occurring.

“You like to slap?” my mother yelled.”No!” I replied. “You are lying and we will see how much you like slapping now.” And that’s when the spanking began.

I was helpless, screaming with pain, as her hand fell repeatedly upon my bottom. I remember it being a long hard spanking but in reality it was probably only about 20 swats. At that age, though, it was pretty severe.

She set me down and told me to put my undies on and sit in my chair. I walked slowly out of the coat room as the class giggled. My face was wet with tears and I was rubbing my bottom. I walked to my seat and sat gingerly with a wince on my small plastic chair, laid my head down and cried.