One morning last week I was working at my desk when the school office called to say that Mr Simkins required assistance in Technology. Mr Simkins was a temporary teacher covering the subject for a term while the usual teacher recovered from an operation. He was a retired gentleman and, to be honest, all we could get, but at least that was something. I was not pleased when the pupils played him up. i checked the timetable for a free room.
When I at the room it was immediately obvious that it was the final year examination class and that not a lot of work was taking place. The class was almost all boys and they had their final exams in two weeks time - there was no excuse for slacking.
Mr Simkins explained that he was prepared to work with those that wanted his help but no longer prepared to waste his time on the group ofboys at the other end of the room who did no more than pretend to do something when he looked; they were spending lesson after lesson chatting and wasting his time and theirs.
The group on question appeared at first glance to be almost half the class. They were indeed doing very little although they had quietened down and tried to look busy when they saw me arrive. A pile of textbooks was on the desk in front of them and a couple picked one up and started to thumb casually through.
"Leave them to me, Mr Simkins." I walked towards the boys.
"Gentlemen, as you seem unable or unwilling to work as you should here you may come and revise with me. Take one textbook each and go to Room 7, lining up in silence outside the door."
There was no argument and they left as instructed.
I returned to my office and went to the umbrella stand by the window. I shuffled through my collection of canes until I found the one I wanted: a 34-inch senior dragon cane. This was the one I waved in assembly when I wanted to make a point as it looked substantial. Only the older boys found out that it also felt substantial as it was weighty and springy and capable of leaving a penetrating sting.
As I approached Room 7 the boys were indeed waiting in silence but looked still rather casual. Sight of me and then the cane in my hand caused them to smarten themselves up. I opened the classroom door.
"Find yourselves a desk each and stand behind your chair."
They did as they were told and I closed the door. I pulled the heavy teachers chair from the fron desk and positioned it near to the left of the classroom as i viewed it, ready to support as required.
I stood behind the desk and absent mindedly flexed the cane. I noted that there were just under 50 minutes of the lesson remaining. In front of me I had 9 boys who were all 16 or nearly 16 and who should have known better.
"Gentlemen, when I tell you to sit you will open your textbooks and revise silently for the remainder of the lesson."
I paused for effect.
"And while you do so, I shall cane you."
Most had suspected that I would use the cane but now they knew for sure. They did not look happy. I pointed to theboy at the front and then to the clock.
"You will watch the clock carefully, and when the second hand reaches the twelve walk without fuss or reminder to stand behind the chair. You will bend over when told and stay in position until told to stand. Then it would be appropriate to say thank you.
"Meanwhile the next boy will be watching the clock, and when the second hand again reaches twelve he too will step forward."
I looked at the faces which showed a mixture of emotions.
"And so on around the room. Sit and begin your revision."
All sat and opened their books - apart from the boy at the front, who walked to the chair and stood there waiting. He was a smartly presented lad who was often with this group but not the cause of trouble. I noticed the boy in the seat behind glance at the clock.
"Bend over!"
He positioned himself suitably and I did the same.
"THWACK!"
It was not a particularly hard stroke, but it did not need to be with this cane. It landed dead centre and stretch the full width of his buttocks.
"Stand up."
No one made a sound but somehow you could hear their surprise. The boy looked relieved even though the stroke had really hurt - if it was only one he could put up with that.
"Thank you, sir."
"Return to your seat."
I flexed the cane and gave it a practice swish. It had a marvellous deep note, this one. I glanced round the room and all were revising as told. The second boy walked forward.
"Bend over!"
He positioned himself suitably and I did the same.
"THWACK!"
"Stand up."
"Thank you, sir."
"Return to your seat."
I started to walk slowly round the room, checking the boys. I had just reached the back when the third boy, Parker, stood and went to the chair. I doubted that this boy had ever been caned. He was intelligent and expected to do well at school and university. But that meant he should know better. He was wll-built and I had often hoped to be able to cane him - now I could.
He stood waiting at the chair and I took my time returning.
"Bend over!"
He positioned himself suitably and I lined up the cane.
"THWACK!" A good firm stroke again. I knew he felt it.
"Stand up."
"Thank you, sir."
"Return to your seat."
Did i detect a slight smugness in the response? Perhaps not. But he took his one stroke well. although I noticed him wince when he sat rather quicker than he should have.
The next boy, Wilkins, came and went while I prepared myself for number 5. This guy had, to my mind, been behind many problems in the school but had rarely, if ever, been caught and properly punished. He was not going to escape today!
He too came out as instructed and without reminding. He was a well-built lad and I judged him well able for severe caning, but he would have to receive the same as the others today. One does intend to cane fairly but did his stroke perhaps seem a little harder? The cane landed somewhat below centre and the tip certainly bit hard into his right buttock. I don't think the other boys noticed this, but I noticed the lad grip the chair firmly.
"Stand up."
"Thank you, sir."
"Return to your seat."
Again, I think there was a degree of confidence about the swagger, but I couldn't be sure and he did not look happy when he sat and faced me.
The next three boys went through the routine in the same way, although number 7 was caught out by the cane's sting and let his legs buckle briefly.
When number 9 stood and walked to the chair I gazed intently at the first boy I had caned. When our eyes met you could, I think, say that the penny also dropped. He looked at the clock where the second hand was already on three.
"THWACK!"
"Stand up."
"Thank you, sir."
"Return to you seat."
I stood and waited. The red hand reached 12 and the first boy returned to the chair. The room remained silent but you could sense the plummeting dismay as the rest realised that one stroke was far from 'it' for today. Several glanced round the room counting the boys: 9 boys, 45 minutes, they were looking at five strokes a piece. Now that first one began to sting in a different way, and I knew that stripe was turning to bruise.
One by one they came for the cane as the awful routine played out. I again landed Wilkins' stroke hard and low and he stood immediately.
"You were told to stay in position. Step to your right. If you rise to early a second time I will repeat the stroke; this time you will give me 50 press-ups."
"He dropped to the floor and started, smoothly and easily. He was a very fit young man and this was an impressive sight. He reached 30 as the next boy stood by the chair.
"Bend over!"
Fancy awaiting the cane while your friend does press-ups beside you! When Wilkins reached 40 I let the cane fly. What a delight! Swinging a senior cane across a 16 year-old's buttocks while another did press-ups beside him. They both stood together and I told them to return to their seats.
I don't think many were aware what stage we had reached when the first boy came to the chair for the third time. The routine was the same but this time I delivered a single stroke as if it really was to be the only one today. it was a corker and landed below centre with a most delightfully high note. The whole group suddenyl looked up in surprise, just in time to see the unfortunate boy try to regain his position. But he was too late and was struggling with his 28th press-up when the cane landed on the next set of buttocks. I allowed him to struggle on while the next two boys were caned, then told him to return to his seat. He was not a bad lad, it was just unfortunate that he was first. But two more would be diong press-ups before round three was ended.
By now everyone was having a thoroughly miserable time, and rightly so. the fidgeted on their seats as they tried to relieve the stinging and concentrate on their revision. I ensured that Parker and Wilkins received as hard a stroke each as the others.
18 minutes remained as we started round four and the first stroke landed in a away that ensured all present knew that there was to be no let up. But a very tight grip on the chair enabled the lad to stay manfully in place and I was impressed. I noticed him wipe away a tear when he sat down again.
17 more strokes of the cane were delivered and I was sure that the point had been well and truly made. As the bell rang for lunch I instructed the boys to close their books and stand. They looked uncomfortable and eager to be out of my revision class.
I laid the cane on the desk, endeavouring to not look tired in any way and to indicate that the cane was able for a good while longer yet.
"You have a Technology lesson again on Thursday. I will give you the option of attending it and working solidly for the entire period or returning here for more revision with me - and my cane."
I could see that I did not need to elaborate.
"You will now return your textbooks and go to lunch - unless you feel that you have not been sufficiently punished, in which case you should remain behind."
I neither expected to be running a revision class on Thursday nor for anyone to remain behind so I did not pay much attention as they filed silently out. It was only as I went back to the desk for the cane that I realised that not all had gone: Parker and Wilkins remained standing in their places. This was indeed an interesting turn of events.
"Parker?"
"Sir, I feel that I have let myself down today and am ashamed. I am worried that I have affected my exam chances and I know that I cannot afford to do so again. You have caned me hard - and it has really hurt - but to truly remember today and learn from my mistakes you should probably give me a sixth stroke. I don't want any more but I cannot afford for this to happen again."
I was very impressed, I must say. Just the sort of lad I want in my school. How many boys would ask for further strokes at the end of a caning?
"How old are you, Parker?"
"16, Sir."
"Wilkins?"
"Also 16, sir."
"I mean why are you still here?"
"I've had several canings down the years, sir, but never one like this. If I'd known this pain a couple of years ago I would have been different. I tend to agree with Parker and want this to be my last caning at school and one that I can remember."
I took my time reaching my decision.
"Very well, I agree to your requests. You have clearly thought this through and I understand your feelings on the matter.
"But as you are both 16 and the usual maximum for that age is 8 strokes I shall give you another three each."
Their faces literally fell, but what could they do? They had asked to be caned, after all.
Parker returned to the chair first and I delivered thre absolute corkers, one after the other, almost on top of each other. Having already receieved five he took them amazingly well and managed to stay down, although his legs buckled after the second. This time there was no five-minute break between strokes.
Wilkins was much the same. I had long wanted to cane him, as I said earlier, and now I was doing so and doing it properly. He would not forget this in a hurry.
When both boys were standing again in front of me I gave them a short lecture and then told them to go to lunch.
Parker held out his hand and, as I shook it, said, "Thank you very much, Mr Jones. I will remember today."
Wilkins followed his lead and shook hands firmly. I was mightily impressed.
[I often require boys I punish to write me an account of the punishment from their perspective. If any reader would like to do this they would be well recieved.]