The Caning Headmistress

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When a man was triced up for flogging, the bo’sun would wait in case the Captain should decide to reprieve the offender, often because his messmates had pledged their rum ration as surety for the man’s future good conduct. It wasn't the done thing to cry or be homesick or generally anything other than a stiff upper lipped Brit.

The money went to our scout troops, not to us, and there was always a lavish tray of cakes etc when the work was done. The headmistress read us a long lecture before advising us that we were all to receive 6 strokes of the cane for playing strip poker and a detention for being out of bounds. Next, I removed the comb from my right rear pocket and assumed the same position Scott was in for his paddling. I merely had a sense of self at that age and, frankly, as a result of my home life being pretty messed up was probably more of a handful than most.She told me I must follow her inside the tent or she would report this to my parents and the other girls’ parents. But even though it was all involuntary, the will power required to obey the dreaded instruction to "Bend Over" without pleading or resisting is quite admirable, and as Jenny implies, however many times you may have been caned, the first stroke is so stunningly painful, the tribute to most schoolgirl and schoolboy bravery is the courage to remain bending over and take the subsequent strokes. I was surprised when, instead of pushing me down on one of the benches, she walked me to the front of the Hall and up the steps of the stage, to where a chair was waiting for me.

The headmistress was absolutely furious and she told me she was considering suspending me for a week, but as exams would soon be here I was to receive six strokes of the cane that lay on her desk in front of me. Once the doors had been closed, my Headmistress marched onto the stage and ignored me as she turned to address the school. The strap did come out of the bag on other occasions, both during that stay and on future occasions when I stayed overnight with her. One of them tripped up almost in front of me, and the geography master, with whom I generally got on very well, came up, belted me extremely hard around the head, nearly knocking me down, and screamed at me never to do that again.I really didn’t mind because there was no scolding, no nastiness, and no malice, and I know I’d been naughty so getting a smacked bottom was fair. It didn’t take long before there was an almighty bang as the lid took off towards the ceiling and the smell and smoke of used matches spilled into the kitchen. I attended the detention after school and was recorded as present by the teacher taking the detention. We were forced to eat everything that was put in front of us and regular beatings by either ruler or a Scholl sandal were 'normal'. We went into the Headmaster’s office, and were told in no uncertain terms to stand in front of his desk.

She added that her daughters, Barbara and Shirley, would know exactly what she had in mind, and that I’d soon find out. Not just the impact of cane against my bum, but the excruciating pain as capillaries seeped into the surrounding muscle, later to turn black, blue and yellow as the bruising developed.What made school canings much more fearsome was that they were involuntary - you had literally no way of avoiding the beating. When I read Fiona Locke’s book ‘Over the knee’ recently, I related strongly to her character as it was like I was reading about myself and I think there must have been a significant element of autobiography in that book. Still angry, I stomped towards my classroom, dragging the charcoal along the wall as I went, when I spied the cloakroom out of the corner of my eye. Two police officers spoke to me, one man who remained quite quiet and the main interrogator who was a woman. Brown, the Headmistress, cannot conceal her proud whilst she carefully observes how Miss Miller, the young teacher who joined the teachers staff only a couple of months ago, is delivering her first real caning to one of her pupils.

However, anyone who let's their toddler run riot because they are just letting them 'express themselves' are equally wrong. When originally Sam thought boarding at Walden would be a serious inconvenience on her personal freedom, Walden may just end up being the place that saves her from hopelessness. I managed to land a snowball on his head from about 70 yards away just as he was walking into school. I stood there in buckets of tears, rocking and rubbing for all I was worth as Peter went through a similar ordeal across mum’s knee before she sent us to bed. Break was nearly over by the time I left, my bottom feeling twice its size and my ego reduced by half.The Headmaster moved around from behind his desk, went to the coat hooks on the wall by the door and lifted one of the two canes hanging there. Mr Pelsall never used that school cliché ‘four of the best’, but there’s no doubt he’d put extra effort into the last fiendish whack.