I attended an English junior school during the early 1970s. Corporal punishment was common in that school, in several forms – spanking, slippering and ultimately the cane for the really naughty kids.
On one occasion I was given written permission to take a day off school to attend my first ever funeral. My grandad had died. I remember it was a Friday, and I cried because all the adults cried. It was horrible – put me off funerals for life.
On the Monday, I returned to school and the only thing out of the ordinary was our deputy headmistress Mrs Graham (all names changed – Ed) had her arm in a sling. It appeared that she had sprained her wrist. Other than that, there was no hint of what was to come – it was a very normal day.
Shortly before the end of the day myself and the three other boys in my little gang were told to report to Mrs Graham’s office. This was a bit worrying, but I was sure I hadn’t done anything wrong. Still, off we went. My mates were strangely quiet walking to the office. We were met by Mrs Graham’s secretary, who walked us in.
In the office, Mrs Graham was sat at her desk, there was a utility teacher (we called them floaters, as they could do a little of everything), Mrs Alton, sitting to one side. I had never been in any of her classes but she seemed OK. I remember feeling a bit ‘off’ – not scared exactly, but very nervous.
Mrs Graham began by saying she was aware I had nothing to do with the incident in question but felt I should be present for the ‘deterrent effect’. Something to do with us boys being in a gang. She did ask me about the funeral, and said she was sorry I had lost my grandad.
It turned out that on the previous Friday, my three amigos were seen wheeling a large industrial bin to the rear of a mobile classroom.
The lads had kicked a ball on to the roof and had decided to try and retrieve the ball. Two boys held the large bin steady while our gang leader, John, climbed up to fetch the ball. That in itself was serious enough, but when John descended, he damaged a section of guttering and pulled it loose, leaving it hanging.
It then transpired there was some kind of unofficial system the teachers used to grade punishment. A visit to Mrs Graham was considered a step beyond lines and detention – this was where things got serious. A form of CP was to be expected, but falling short of the cane. That was only administered by the headmaster, Mr Perkins.
As Mrs Graham had her arm in a sling, we were told, it had been decided that Mrs Alton would administer any such punishments deemed necessary in the meantime.
Panic set in – I thought for a minute I was going to be punished. Tears welled in my eyes – surely they wouldn’t punish me? I wasn’t there! Then I remembered Mrs Graham had already gone out of her way to say she knew I was innocent. Nevertheless I was still very nervous, and my guts gurgled.
Sentencing was passed. The two boys who had held the bin steady were each to receive 10 whacks each on the seat of their shorts with the dreaded slipper, actually a plimsol. The secretary entered the punishments into a book.
Then Mrs Graham ordered the first boy to bend over the arm of a large leather chair. He was as white as a sheet and looked terrified, but obeyed.
Mrs Alton stood up, the plimsol ready in her hand. She must have had it on her lap all the time with her hands folded over to hide it.
She stood to one side behind the boy, placed her hand on the small of his back and delivered ten pretty hard whacks at a steady rate. My mate cried almost from the first stroke, and by the tenth he was writhing and sobbing. It wasn’t nice to watch. The plimsol made only a dull thudding noise, but clearly had a devastating effect on my the recipient’s buttocks.
Afterwards, the boy was told to stand next to me, hands by his side. Mrs Graham warned him that if he rubbed his bottom he would receive the same again.
The second boy was given the exact same punishment. He lasted a bit longer, but was also crying before his tenth and final whack. Mrs Alton placed the plimsol back on the desk, but never spoke.
Again, Mrs Graham told him to stand with the first boy, hands by his side and both boys were warned again not to rub their backsides. They stood to my left, both whimpering, sniffing and breathing hard. Mrs Graham thanked Mrs Alton.
As I was given a pass the next in line was John. As I mentioned, he was our leader. John was tough – we had seen him fight a boy two years older and beat him easily. I was confident that whatever punishment the teachers had planned for John, he would never cry.
As for the punishment itself, I suppose I expected him to get more of the same because he’d climbed on to the roof – possibly 15 or 20 strokes of the slipper? Although I acknowledged in my head that was not beyond the realms of possibility that Mr Perkins might be called to use the cane in his case.
When his sentence was passed I looked at Mrs Alton, who clearly knew what was coming and didn’t bat an eyelid. Mrs Graham announced that John was to be spanked soundly over his underpants.
As this news sank in, Mrs Alton calmly moved a straight back chair and positioned it directly in front of us three other boys. Gently but firmly, she took John’s arm, guided him to the chair and sat herself down.
John’s grey school shorts were undone and allowed to slide down to his ankles. Then, with a quick glance across at Mrs Graham (who gave a nod of approval), Mrs Alton put him across her waiting knee.
Just as part of me was thinking John was getting off lightly, Mrs Alton pulled the back of his underpants up into his bum crack, effectively making this a bare bottom punishment. At this point I glanced across at the secretary, who had finished writing ithe punishment in the book. She sat back and looked relaxed, almost as if she was looking forward to the show.
I glanced sideways but neither of my two already spanked mates were willing to make eye contact.
“Carry on, please, Mrs Alton,” the headmistress ordered. I jumped when the spanking began. I have no idea if John had ever been spanked before – most of us had – but he jerked his head up a bit, then his arms and legs started to move around.
The noise of a bare bottomed spanking in a quiet, small office is quite something, unforgettable in my case. We watched as our leader was soundly tanned.
I looked up for a second at Mrs Graham, she was watching Mrs Alton closely. Then my eyes returned to the spanking being administered right in front of me, and I caught a glance from John. He was pulling a funny face and beginning to grunt and groan.
Mrs Alton was like a spanking machine – her arm rose and fell at a steady pace, from one side of John’s little bottom to the other. His movements became more and more animated as he was effectively spanked on the bare.
His spanker’s face was a picture of determination, concentrating on administering a very sound punishment indeed.
By this time, John was really struggling, his face screwed up in pain. I will never forget the last look he gave us, desperation and pain all over his face. He drew in a huge hissing breath – and held it.
Suddenly, the unthinkable happened – John broke. Mrs Alton must have sensed (or known) that John was on the verge, and increased the speed of her smacks. John’s head strained upwards, his legs kicked and he bucked and twisted desperately.
Nevertheless Mrs Alton gripped him tightly, and the ferocious onslaught of hard, fast smacks finally defeated John. Our leader, the tough guy, bawled his eyes out like a baby. It was painful viewing, and as a deterrent, it certainly worked on me! No way did I ever want that to be done to me.
Once Mrs Alton had broken John’s will, she slowed her smacks and resumed her steady pace, although I think she smacked harder – it certainly sounded harder. After a few moments of listening to John sobbing and incoherently babbling, Mrs Graham finally said: “Thank you, Mrs Alton – I think that will do.”
The spanking stopped – but every bit of John’s bottom was bright scarlet, apparent even under the thin white material which had stayed in place to offer scant protection from the admonishment.
Mrs Alton helped the sobbing boy to his feet, pulled his underwear back into some order to more modestly cover his buttocks, then pulled his shorts back.
Like the other two, John was ordered to stand with hands by his side, and to leave them there or else. He continued to cry for quite a while, wiping tears away with the backs of his hands – the poor lad must have been in agony.
Mrs Alton calmly put the chair back and sat facing us as Mrs Graham gave us a final lecture about our behaviour. “I don’t want to see your faces or your bottoms in my office ever again!” she concluded.
She released the first two and me, but John was in no state to walk home and was kept back. I heard later that his parents had collected him.
I walked home in a state of shock, reflecting that had it not been for the funeral, I might well have been on the receiving end of that plimsol myself. The deterrent had worked – I vowed that no way was I ever going back to Mrs Graham’s office. I also vowed that should I ever find myself in Mrs Alton’s class, I would be a model pupil – I had seen first-hand how good she was at smacking boys’ bottoms!
When I got home, I told my mum in some detail about what I had witnessed. Seeing as I was innocent, she restricted out to handing out advice which pretty much echoed my own thoughts – in other words, best behave from now on!
As for John, he changed after that day. He no longer wanted to hang around with us other boys, and he became withdrawn to the point that we hardly ever saw him other than in the classroom. The other two boys remained mates but one moved away not long after. That was the end of our little gang.
Funnily enough, later that year I had Mrs Alton as a class teacher for a week or so, standing in for my regular teacher. She was actually really nice – quite funny, I remember. She never mentioned our previous ‘meeting’. Nevertheless, I made doubly sure I behaved in that class – I didn’t fancy a trip across Mrs Alton’s knee one little bit.
Contributor: Alan