On a bright morning in the scorching summer of 1976, within two weeks of the summer holidays, my ten-year-old self sat nervously outside the headmaster’s office at primary school. I was wearing my grey summer term shorts, a white shirt, and a school tie. My palms were sweating. I knew that, when that door opened, I was likely in for my first experience of the cane.
I’d been sent there with a slip from my teacher, Miss Lee. On it, she had written ‘unsatisfactory effort this week’ and signed it. I was bristling with the injustice of it – not because I had worked hard that week, but because no-one had and I felt I was being singled out unfairly. Miss Lee was not a successful teacher. She was timid and had endless trouble controlling her classes. The headmaster welcomed at least one of her students for a hot bottom almost every day.