Punishment Debate


by Denham <Astrophel33@hotmail.com>

This story is a companion piece to 'Punishment Essay' (see the Archive). It takes place in the same old-fashioned boarding school where Michael sat writing his detention ten years before, and the same master, Mr Jameson, now promoted to deputy head, is responsible for discipline. The school's methods seem to have changed little, but the atmosphere in class is certainly more relaxed, reflecting the times and the approach of the 1960s. Andrew, 15, is speaking in a class debate on the motion 'That corporal punishment is out of date and should be abolished.' Fair-haired, quite tall for his age, Andrew is a more literate and articulate boy than Michael; he is confident enough to express himself freely and even on occasion to tease the master at whose hands he has several times suffered. The debate is being taped to allow marks for clarity of diction and argument to be awarded later. Oddly enough, though, this speech is not destined to be wiped like the rest but carefully transcribed and lovingly kept, along with Michael's essay, in a locked drawer of Mr Jameson's desk....

'Gentlemen: perhaps I have an advantage over some of you in discussing this motion because, like Mr B---- who is proposing it , I personally have had the cane at this school - not once but twice. It might surprise you therefore that I support corporal punishment and believe it should continue in fact I argue that the school should use it more often, not less. Why, you may ask? Is he some kind of masochist? No, sorry lads, I'm not a pervert (shut up Mark, you can talk). The reason is that I know from experience what a BAD punishment it is: let's face it, getting the cane is the one thing all of us are scared of, whether we admit it or not, and the one thing we'll do anything to avoid - even not do the offence in the first place. In other words, it DETERS. In fact, the way it's done here, it's the ultimate deterrent!

For those lucky people who've never found themselves on the list the Headmaster reads out on Friday morning, perhaps I'd better describe exactly what happens to you when the disaster strikes. Well, for a start you have to sit in assembly waiting to hear your name read out to the whole school. When it is, everyone from the junior house to the sixth form and the staff - especially the staff - looks at you, knowing what you're going to get - and how - and you curl up with embarrassment, unless you're one of those freaks who thinks he's a hero. Then, you've got to wait till Monday for the actual punishment, which gives you a really great weekend in between; especially if your parents have been told - and they always have been - and your Mum's told all your aunties and uncles - and if she's like mine she has - that 'they still use the cane at Andrew's school and he's been a naughty boy and he's going to get it on Monday!' And you'd rather talk about anything else but they all ask questions about it - like 'On his hands or his bum?'

'Oh they do it properly, on his behind, DON'T they, Andrew?'

'Er...yes.'

'Ooooh....trousers down, eh?'

' 'Fraid so...actually it's bare bottom if you must know. Sorry it's not in public so you can all watch!'

Monday morning comes and....have you ever had that Monday morning feeling? Well this is about 150 times worse. You think about taking a week off, but you know it's no good - you'd still get it in the end and probably doubled for truanting. And when you get to school you've still got all day - eight whole lessons - to wait until 4 o'clock, if you're a day boy that is - longer for boarders. This is the only day you want lessons to slow down, believe me - even English goes in no time - ahem! But you always reach 4 o'clock in the end. By that time you've seen your games master and asked permission to be caned in his sports period and put up with the sarcastic cracks and gone back to the house and changed into PE kit - just a singlet, shorts, socks and plimsolls, nothing else. Some boys put pants under their shorts the first time, till they find out that...er...there's no point. Then up the stairs you go on that long dreary climb to the Tower room.

There might be other day kids waiting or it might be just you, which in my opinion is better. My first time in the third form after Bennett and I...er...vandalised some lockers (it was his idea anyway) he kept telling me outside he'd had it loads of times at prep school and it was nothing. Then I could hear the cane whacking him and Bennett yelling blue murder. He was still crying when he came out, which certainly did give me a whole lot of confidence. When the moment comes, you go into this bare, bleak room with a high window, a chair in one corner, a desk in another, and right in the middle - yep, we've all heard of it - the good old school birching pony. I don't think I need to describe this antique for...Mike, Dave, Tom...but the rest of you may like to know that it's like a big heavy stool - or horse - made of mahogany with a leather top that slopes upward a bit and can be adjusted to your height. It's got quite a polish from the stomachs of all the naughty boys laying on it for the last 200 years or so. But what REALLY gets you s--- scared (excuse me),even more than that pony, is your first sight of the CANE, lying on the desk all ready to be used - on you! Also you're pretty anxious to know which master's going to give it. Now as I'm sure you all know, there are two masters who dish out the corporal punishment in our school who are supposed to be impartial because they're deputy heads: Mr Jones and our nice kind friendly English teacher Mr Jameson. They say Mr Jones whacks pretty hard; but each time, thanks to my luck, I've had it from Mr Jameson, and I can tell you that he is an expert and even if you're brilliant at English like me he makes that cane hurt - and I do mean HURT!

But before you even feel the first sting, there's a few shocks in store. First, you're told to go over to the chair and take off your clothes. ALL your PE kit comes off, plimsolls. socks, top - AND shorts. You have to fold them on the chair all neatly. Then - having made that last as long as possible - you walk up to the horse as if you were going into the shower - in your birthday suit, starkers! My first time, with Bennett, I was so embarrassed - I couldn't believe I'd heard right. I'm not saying that Mr Jameson's funny or anything, but he has a really good look at you, all over, as you go up....yes you do, Sir! Anyway you stand in front of it all red-faced, but trying to pretend you're not bothered, while he reminds you of what you've done and how many it's going to be - we got 6 in the third form - that's nothing! When you get over the pony it feels really cold at first all down your front (though Bennett had warmed it up a bit that time); the master sort of positions you and then he fastens your wrists to the front legs with straps. That's the second shock for an innocent little third former - this punishment is going to be PAINFUL if you have to have your hands tied to take it. I've never felt so defenceless.

Masters always keep you waiting ages while they practise swipes through the air and watch you wince; but I can tell you that before he gives the first one Mr Jameson always pats your bum four or five times with the end of the cane, measuring his aim. And that, by the way, is when you decide that Bennett is an idiot and being a teenage vandal is definitely NOT a cool idea. You learn WHY when you hear that evil hiss and the cane strikes - you learn quickly, believe me. It's MUCH worse than you expect - a burning line of pain flaming across your arse. You concentrate on keeping your teeth gritted and trying not to yell, but whatever they say I reckon most boys do yell out after two or three. You know nothing COULD hurt worse than that first one, but you also know with total certainty that the next one WILL - and it does - and the next....They cane slow, so each one reaches its peak. At least our kind English master is fair to us though: he doesn't land them on the same spot, which is torture, or hit low like Mr Jones - right Dave? He gives each stroke under the one before but he always keeps them on your backside - thanks a lot, Sir! Even so it's like a red ladder of flame spreading down your behind, and the lowest ones hurt most because they're the hardest and that's the tenderest part and being caned there makes sitting down VERY difficult afterwards. (Like I said, Mr J. is an expert.) The last two made me realise why my wrists were tied - I couldn't have stayed down otherwise, they hurt so MUCH. You feel yourself twisting your hips from one side to the other, but that pony never lets you escape. OK, I admit it, I yelled as much as Bennett did. You're left there wriggling around for a minute after and when you're freed you slide off the stool and hop all the way back to the chair holding your bum - and pull your clothes on as quick as you can (what a relief!) Then Mr Jameson talks quietly to you and asks if you've learnt your lesson - and the answer to that question is YES! I was pretty sorry for myself afterwards and I spent the next two nights at least sleeping face down. And I had to show Mum and Dad the marks, so they could see it had been done properly - they were pretty impressed. But the point is, it taught me to treat things with respect - Bennett and I would have laughed at a detention and carried on being daring vandals (we thought). In other words, it worked. It deterred us.

And that was the easy one - a little third form punishment - they can be MUCH worse than that, as I found out this year. As everyone knows - of course - I got done for bullying Oldham and hitting him, which was true - even though he deserved it, he's so weird. In the junior house I used to get bullied and I think you want to take it out on someone else when it's your turn. I should have known better. Anyway Oldham's dad complained and Mum was called in and she asked for me to be caned instead of suspended, and for Mr Jameson to do it - hard! So that Friday in assembly I was on the Headmaster's list again, with everyone gloating as usual. Normally it's 8 maximum in the fourth form but I had to take TEN of the best. And the last four were diagonals - across the first six - and I'm telling you, that was a new dimension of pain - that was PUNISHMENT, man! There's no way I'll bully anyone again after that - ever!

But however much caning hurts, the real deterrent isn't pain, because you forget that soon after, it's the SHAME that burns into your mind which doesn't fade like the stripes on your backside. It's not quite so bad if it's just you and the discipline master in there - Mr Jameson gives the cane to boys every week, and sometimes the birch - it's his job to whack me so I don't mind having to strip in front of him. He's seen me over the pony before, he knows the cane will make me yell and I'll be crying at the end and hopping around like an idiot rubbing my backside - it's private between him and me. It's like a deal - he's paid to make me pay - it's no one else's business. But sometimes when you're called in for your...appointment, there are witnesses - people who've come up to the Tower room specially, late on a Monday afternoon, just for the pleasure of watching someone's punishment. It might be a master who doesn't like you, that you've been cheeky to, and he wants his revenge; it might be one that DOES like you, and that's worse because he'll REALLY enjoy it. It could even be a woman teacher - how humiliating is that?! But for me last time was worst of all: my tutor, our...er...gay new chaplain, decided it was his pastoral duty to see me getting caned. Well, if there's any doubt, I can assure you that that man is definitely, 100% a PERVERT. He 'helped' Mr Jameson by strapping me onto the pony. Now for those who haven't had that delightful experience it involves being positioned carefully so your...private parts aren't squashed underneath, for obvious reasons. Mr J just quickly pulls them to one side - you hardly feel him do it; but our saintly father - AFTER he's fastened the straps - gets his soft clammy fingers round my ball...sorry testicles...and starts feeling them - a really good feel, like it's his Christmas treat. And THEN - I swear this is true Sir - he starts fingering...another part. No I didn't, Mark - it was horrible actually - but you can guess the result: and all you need across the horse waiting for that first stroke is a great hard boner. The hypocrite gives me a sermon about bullying, running that clammy hand right down my back, and as he's reminding me about the painful consequences (as if he needed to) the hand has reached my bottom and he's patting it, drooling at what it's about to get. Ugh! - believe it or not, it was a relief to feel the hot cane on my bum after that! I could hear him behind me getting excited: 'Oooh - oooh - HARDER, Mr Jameson ....we MUST drive the Devil out ....ooooh!! yes!!' He's revolting. And he still hadn't finished with me. At the end, when I was writhing around in tears as usual, my caring tutor asked for me to be fastened up astride the horse, head down, in the position you get birched in, as a warning of what I'll get next time! I was mounted there for ten minutes with everything on display - and I mean EVERYTHING. He even swished a birch against my bum a couple of times so I could feel exactly where the twigs land.....well have a guess! During those 10 minutes I worked out WHY Mr Jameson had just punished me in front of the one master I hate: because I'll make 100% certain to do NOTHING to let him ever watch me having the birch like that. It's the best deterrent of all, for me. So now I make sure I work hard and treat other people with respect. So you see, to get the best out of us at school we need the threat of discipline and I'm afraid, gentlemen, that doesn't mean pathetic detentions it means proper corporal punishment. I urge everyone to oppose this motion.'

Teacher's note added to transcript: 'Motion defeated by 20 votes to 6. Andrew was remarkably frank in this speech but I fear his determined resolution at the end was not fulfilled. Only two weeks later he was caught with alcohol in his room by his tutor. This led to a most unfortunate series of events. Father Bernard claimed that the boy so dreaded the consequences that he begged him not to report the matter, and when this plea was refused offered him a _s_e_x_ual inducement not to do so. The shocked priest immediately informed the headmaster. Andrew was known not to be innocent in such matters: there had been a serious incident involving older boys when he was in the junior house. He in turn claimed that his tutor had demanded (and taken) _s_e_x_ual favours as a price for silence, but this allegation only got him deeper into trouble. The headmaster could hardly question his chaplain's moral character and after a long meeting with Andrew's parents in which they pleaded against expulsion in his exam years, the boy received the severest birching sentence permissible for his age. I confess I thought it was well deserved.

However, I soon began to have doubts. Several days before the punishment was inflicted Andrew came to see me privately, in some distress. He assured me that he had never seen the bottles supposedly found in his room. But he knew the seriousness of the charge and when his tutor made certain suggestions, felt he had no choice but to comply. Then, when he had submitted to the priest's increasing demands, he was reported to the Head anyway both for the alcohol offence and for attempting to corrupt a man of the cloth!

I was inclined to believe his story, and regretted indulging the young chaplain by allowing him certain liberties during the caning. However, since the headmaster instructed me to birch Andrew in front of his tutor most rigorously, of course I had to do so; but I had an uneasy feeling that I was punishing an innocent boy.'

Author's Note: Any comments on the story would be welcome, as would thoughts on a sequel. E. g. was Andrew or Father Bernard telling the truth? How severe should the sentence be, and how administered? Should the chaplain play a role? Are there other witnesses? Should the boy himself describe it, perhaps in the form of a diary or an account to a close friend, or should the viewpoint be the master's - perhaps the tutor's? All options carefully considered.


More stories by Denham