I attended a private catholic junior school in East Anglia during the 1970s. My own bit of trouble at school ( perhaps predictably for a girl) was with me persistently talking in class. I have to say our class teacher was very patient with me, but after a couple of verbal reprimands in my seat she finally called me out in front of the whole class. There she gave me a very sound telling-off off which ended with the imposition of 200 lines ” I must not talk in class unless asked ” to be handed in the following morning.

 

I was an only child so as you may expect, it was fairly difficult for me to get any privacy. When I got home I was normally sent upstairs to do my homework, so I decided to do my lines first. I absolutely did not dare tell my mother about the punishment handed out by the teacher as that would ensure a good spanking as well as the lines.

 

I attempted to do my impositions furtively, as it were. However, to curse my luck mother kept coming upstairs for one thing or another and I was forced to quickly hide my lines under another piece of homework until she had gone back down.. All this meant that I was quickly running out of time, and I knew very well that if I didn’t get my homework done, I would be in much worse trouble, probably a detention at best. Thus conflicted, the result was that I made a fairly shoddy stab at my homework, and I only managed 100 lines before mother called me down for tea.

 

Mother asked me whether I had finished my homework and I nodded. Looking back, I should of said that I had something more to finish and I could of got the punishment down without her knowing. But again luck was not on my side, as two of my favourite television shows were on that night and Mother was looking forward to watching them with me and father, who had just arrived back from work in time for his evening meal.

 

Mother sent me for a quick bath and to get into my nightie. Again I hoped for the opportunity to complete my line, but again mother was up and down the stairs for something or other. In the end I gave my usual last resort- blind optimism – and reassured myself that Mrs Glenn would not remember just how many lines I was due to hand in. That or she would let me off writing the rest.

 

The next day at school Mrs Glenn lost no time in asking me for my assignment straight after registration. I came forward as instructed to hand in my lines. There was a short silence as Mrss Glenn examined my work.

“Where are the rest of the lines Melanie?” asked Mrs Glenn in a not-too-pleased voice.

I made some stupid reply as to the effect that I did not have time to do them all because of my homework. Of course, Mrs Glenn having set the homework knew what I was saying was not true.

 

Suddenly Mrs Glenn looked more serious and took a scrap of notepaper from her desk and wrote for a few moments. She then popped the note into a sealed envelope.

“You had better go and see Mrs Williams (The Headmistress). Give her this note and may the lord have mercy on your soul!”

 

I walked out of the classroom with very wobbly legs and slowly walked as I dared towards Mrs Williams’s office. There was no sign of her secretary, so very reluctantly I knocked on Mrs Willaims own inner door praying no one would be in. ,y Stomach dropped another three inches as I heard the stern sounding bidding me to enter.

 

The next few minutes seemed like a blur as I handed over the note from Mrs Glenn, Listened to the inevitable lecture about taking discipline seriously and so on. The to my utter dismay Mrs Williams went to a long cupboard , like a wardrobe on one side of her desk and extracted a cane.

 

Now I have to say that the cane was used pretty sparingly in our school and it was very rare to hear of a girl receiving it. The realization that I was about to become a member of that exclusive club made my already wobbly legs turn to absolute jelly. I am not sure to this day exactly how I remained upright.

It was all played out like a very bad dream as Mrs Williams went to another corner of the room and drew out a high stool.

 

Mrs Williams placed the stool in front of me and instructed me to bend over it. I was now so terrified that I almost collapsed onto it.

“I am going to give you three strokes on the cane Melanie, and I never want to see you in here for this ever again, do you understand?”

I managed a vague gargling affirmation and the next thing I knew a streak of heat blazed across my bottom, It was far worse than any spanking I got for mother. The cane appear a more scientific method of discipline.

 

I begun to cry and let out yelps amid the constant tears as the cane was applied to my buttocks twice more. By the time I was bidden to stand, my little world was a blur of tears. I stood there shaking and desperately wanting to rub my sore bottom but not daring to do so as Mrs Willaims entered my details in the punishment book. After this Mors Willaims opened the drawer and reached inside for something else.

 

“Punishment slip, Melanie,” She Explained. ” I need this signed by your parents and handed into Mrs Glenn first thing in the morning, is that clear?” I managed a nod, hiccuping sobs all the way. “And no funny business this time,” Mes Willaims warned, “Or I will be seeing you here again tomorrow and next time I will not be so lenient.” I was not sure if this was just a threat to scare me, maybe it was, however the thought of another punishment at the hands of Mrs Williams was something I did not wish to experience.

“Right – back to class and I hope that has been a lesson for you.”

Then Mrs Willaims’s expression softened a little.

“If I was you I would go to the girls room and washed your face, then straight back to your lessons please.”

 

Sitting in the class that day was agony and from my still tear-stained face I am sure the whole class, boys and girls alike, guess what I had been in for. I confided in one or two close friends at break time and they asked me in some detail about the punishment, Talking about it felt embarrassing but sort of naughtily nice for some reason.

 

That day I headed home feeling like I was carrying a bomb in my satchel, in the form of a punishment slip. I decided to get it over with as soon as I got home. I did not want to get spanked in front of my father or possibly worse by him.

 

When I got home it did not take long for the bomb to go off.

I was thoroughly questioned, soundly scolded and finally sent to my room with the promise of a soundly smacked bottom.

 

When Mother came into the room in order to spank me she was carrying a slipper.

“If you are old enough to have the cane you are old enough to have this,” Mum said, smacking the slipper in her hand in a threatening manner.

 

Mother sat down on the bed and I was summarily placed across her knee, Without further a do she smacked me squarely across my bottom with the slipper. It was not as bad as the cane had been but it imparted a deep pain in my backside and was certainly far worse than the usual smacking with her hand. I was given a thorough thrashing with that slipper and even today I deserved every smack.