Ten demerits meant an automatic caning at our primary school, catering for boys from grade three to grade seven. Three strokes for the first ten, adding another stroke for every susequent ten demerits received in one quarter. The boys began at zero at the start of each quarter.
I answered the knock on my study door shortly after the lunch bell had rung, and admitted five little boys - four fifth grader and one boy in grade seven.
"Yes, boys," I enquired, "what can I do for you?"
They looked embarrassed - or scared.
"We're here to be punished for demerits, sir," the older boy answered.
I was surprised. My prowess with the cane meant that the boys were very careful not to amass demerits regularly, and I usually only caned one or two boys a week for this offence, out of a school of nearly seven hundred. But five at once - almost unheard of!
Three of the lads were not particularly regular visitors to my office, and their pink slips from their teacher reflected that they had only today - in the last week of the quarter, been handed their tenth demerit. A pity for them - a few more days, and they would have been able to begin with a clean slate. But the other two, the last fifth grade lad and the seventh grader were now on their thirtieth demerit, and would find their bottoms very sore indeed shortly.
As is my custom, I chose to give the most severe hidings last, ending with the oldest boy, so I made them line up in order outside the office - the other three coming in in alphabetical order.
In came the first lad - Calvin. I was surprised to see this boy here at all. He was a small, quiet and bright boy, and had never had a hiding at school before. I could see the nervous sweat standing on his forehead as I selected one of my lighter, thinner canes to administer his punishment.
"Bend over, my boy," I commanded.
Hesitantly, and with lots of guidance from me, he bent over in the customary position - knees straight, feet slightly apart and finger on toes. I tapped the cane gently on his little upturned bottom, then smacked across the tight shorts. He yelped, and his body jerked. After a brief pause, I gave another hard smack. Seeing that he was battling to stay in position, and knowing that i was unlikely to see him for demerits again, I didn't wait long before administering the final stroke. He stood up with my permission, hands clasping bottom (it was more painful than he had imagined) and tears welling in his eyes.
"Thank you sir," he mumbled, then, with a stronger voice, "I won't do this again sir."
He was blushing - the embarrassment of bending over for a hiding was almost as bad as the pain from the cane to this intelligent youngster. He knew he could have avoided the whole scene by a bit of self control and hard work. I squeezed his thin shoulder gently, dismissing him with instructions to send in Clyde.
Clyde reluctantly entered my office and closed the door behind him. He was the youngest of this particular group, but his tanned young body showed excellent muscle structure for an eleven year old, with a very smackable round bottom, and topped off with a mop of slightly too long brown hair. I'd caned him several times in the past, but this was his first hiding for ten demerits this quarter, and he'd also get three strokes.
"Bend over, Clyde,"
With no hesitation, the boy bent and touched his toes in the correct position. I used the same cane to tap him lightly on his pushed up bottom, then gave him his first stroke - hard! He hissed with the pain, but stood absolutely still. His bottom was bigger than Calvin's, and had taken a lot more beating in the past, but I was still impressed with his fortitude. I had never hit him this hard before, and he must have felt it. But I had already decided to take a hard line with this lad before he ended up in here for a real thrashing, like the last two waiting outside.
I paused before hitting him again, just as hard. The cane made a satisfactory 'crack' as it connected with his firm young behind. His reaction was the same, but I made him wait. He couldn't resist shifting his feet slightly. His bottom must have been hurting like crazy. I finally delivered a mighty blow, as low as I dared without hitting his legs. The boy gasped, and I heard a wet sob. I let him stand, and as he turned towards me, I saw the tears running down his cheeks. I had never had him crying before, so I knew this hiding must have got home to him.
"Thank you sir," he sobbed.
"I hit you hard today, Clyde," I told him, putting an arm around his shoulders, "I want to teach you a good lesson, so that I don't have to warm up your bottom too often, understand?"
"Yes, sir,"
I let him go, and in came Crispian.
A tall, gangly blond boy, with big blue eyes and a delightful personality. But mischevious. I had caned him three times in the last two years - always for silly things that he had done, and only ever one stroke. This would be a lot for him, but I decided to set him right, and hit him nearly as hard as Clyde.
"You're getting a very hard hiding today, my boy," I expalined, "I hope you learn a lesson from it."
"Yes sir," he responded, softly.
"Bend over,"
For the third time, I had an eleven year old boy bent over and touching his toes in front of me, bottom pushed up to receive a whipping. And whip it I did. Crispian leapt up, grabbing his stinging tail.
"Bend over Cris," I commanded, and as the boy touched his toes, "if you stand again without permission, I'll give you an extra stroke."
I smashed the cane across his bottom again, just as hard as the first time, and he howled, but held his position. After a brief pause, I whacked him again, then let him get up and rub his bottom.
"Thank you sir," he sniffed, "I'm sorry I stood during a hiding sir, but it was so sore!"
I patted him on his head, then sent him out. Now for the real hidings.
In came Steven, the last of the grade fives.
"This is your third visit here this quarter for demerits, Steven," I reminded him, "and you know the consequences, don't you?"
"Yes, sir. Five, sir," he muttered, staring at his feet.
"He was a relatively small, blond boy. Often in trouble for minor offences- hence the multitude of demerits. I seldom had to give an eleven year old such a severe hiding, but he had been warned. For anything over four strokes, I always made the boys bend over the back of a chair, making it more difficult for them to jump up at a critical moment so that I wouldn't hit them across the back and damage their kidneys. I had Steven move a chair into the centre of the room, and positioned him over it.
I noticed his knees shaking slightly as he waited for me to begin, but I made him wait a few seconds longer before cracking the cane across that pushed up round little bottom. he cried out softly, and jumped a little, but his numerous, lesser canings had taught him that he must never get up, or face even more severe punishment. I took my time, hitting him as hard as I had hit Clyde, and knowing that the extra two would be excrutiating for him. Although he wiggled his bottom slightly after each stroke - I imagine unconciously trying to move it out of the way of the slashing cane, he took his beating well. It was a year before I was called upon to give him another hiding, proving that some boys can take lots of minor canings, but an extended thrashing can keep them out of trouble for a long time indeed.
He thanked me when it was over, and, holding his bottom tightly with both hands, had darted out of the office, no doubt to wash away tears and compare injuries with his friends.
Now it was the turn of Andrew, the grade seven lad. Although short for his thirteen years, Andrew was a wiry, strong lad. Very bright, and without a reputation for getting into trouble. This quarter, however, had seen him go off the rails, and become a difficult boy to deal with. Unfortunately, I had been away on the previous two occassions that he had needed a caning for demerits, and my deputy had dealt with him - not severely enough, obviously. I was somewhat surprised at the casual way he was treating this whole affair, and I determined to change his attitude painfully.
"You know you're getting five, Andrew?" I enquired.
"Yes sir," was the unconcerned reply, looking me straight in the eye.
"Bend over," I ordered, gesturing toward the chair over which Steven had bent to have his backside tanned.
Andrew bent over, pushing his bottom up and widening his feet just a little more than was necessary. I let it go - clearly this boy did not realize just how painful a good caning is, and was challenging me. I decided to change canes, and selected a slightly longer, thicker weapon for this arrogant boy. By now I was distinctly annoyed with him. I resolved to give Andrew the hiding of his young life.
I hit him hard, and low. He howled in pain and surprise. He had not expected it to be nearly this sore. After a lengthy pause, I hit him again, in the same area, just as hard, and he leapt up, clutching the wounded area.
"That just earned you an extra one, Andrew," I announced, "now bend over!"
"No please sir!" the boy sobbed, holding his fiery bum, "I'll be good sir! Please!"
I would not hear it.
"Bend over, or I shall phone your father and get permission to give you the next four bare!"
Andrew turned and bent quickly over. I made him get back into exactly the same position he had placed himself earlier - bottom pushed impudently up and legs wide apart. He knew that I would be given that permission with pleasure, and if his father knew he had been caned at school, he could expect the same at home.
Slowly, methodically, I continued to cane the boy, waiting between strokes for his squirming to end, and allowing the full pain of each stroke to register across his bottom. He was no longer the arrogant little brat, but rather a little boy tearfully enduring a severe, well deserved thrashing from his school master. This was a hiding that he would never forget.
After his six, I left him bending while I put away the canes that had served me so well that day. Then he was allowed to stand and firmly massage his burning tail.
"Thank you for my hiding, sir," he sobbed. I could see that the old, charming Andrew was back, "I've learnt my lesson."
"I'm glad to hear it, Andrew," I respnded, "but rememeber the bare bottom threat if I have you hear again for so many demerits."
Andrew nodded his head, and I dismissed the sniffling boy.