This story is true; however, as the name implies, no actual whipping transpired. I make that disclosure for those who may want to click their Back Arrow without investing any more time. For those who enjoy the suspense, anticipation, and tension that builds up for a much anticipated whipping, however, you will probably want to read on.
When I was in second grade, the academic year was divided into six sections comprised of six weeks each. By the conclusion of the fourth six-week period, my teacher was becoming perturbed with her students' behavior. She therefore announced at the start of the fifth six-week period that she had made up a chart with each student's name on it. She said that from then on, any student misbehaving would have to place a mark beside his or her name. She never indicated what the penalty would be for excessive mark accumulation; however, she had a thick yardstick that she kept laying across her desk but would never use. I guess I may as well go ahead right now and admit it. I had a crush on her, and I desperately wanted her to give me a few whacks with that yardstick. Normally, I had been a very good student, but I decided to toy around with this new list and see what the consequences would be.
Well, over about the first three weeks I had accumulated around 16 or 18 marks. She still would not divulge what the penalty would be!! One day, the roof literally caved in from a standpoint of her patience with me. She was out of her room for a few moments, and one of the kids got the bright idea that we could play a game of indoor high hurdles. He stuck his leg out across to his neighbor's seat and dared another kid to run and clear his leg. The kid did. Another kid got brave enough to try it. When each kid would clear the leg, he would immediately run to his seat for fear she may return at any second. Well, yours truly got up the nerve to try and clear the outstretched leg. Guess who opened the door literally when I was in mid air! When I came down, she said, "Kevin, you come here right now." I came, and she said, "You're going to tell me who all else was involved in this." I stayed quiet. She grew really mad, and demanded that I tell her. Reluctantly, I did so. She called us all together, including the kid who had stretched out his leg. She told us we were each going to go put 5 marks on the list. We each did. To my shock, that's all she said.
At recess that same day, one of the kids, who was one of the hurdlers but heretofore did not have a single mark on the list, came up to me and said, "You had to tell her didn't you." I told him I was sorry, but she demanded. He said, "Well, I didn't have a single mark before you did. How about a few punches?" He then hit me with a sharp punch to my left shoulder. I didn't do anything, and he landed another to my right shoulder. I said, "That's enough, Danny." He said, "Oh, it's not nearly enough." He then landed a hard blow to my stomach. I found this incredible because this kid was normally so shy he wouldn't even speak. How he even got the nerve to be a hurdler was beyond me. Anyway, even though I had some masochistic tendencies at age 7, I wasn't about to let this kid get away with punching me in the stomach. When I regrouped, I decked him. Soon we were throwing blows left and right. Of course, this always attracts 15 or 20 students who gather around and say, "Fight, fight." Soon, my second grade teacher appeared on the scene. To keep things somewhat brief, I'll just say that we were both honest about how the fight started. She was mad at both of us, and told us we were each going to put three marks on her list. So there you have it, eight marks in one day!
I was pretty aggravated because, even though I felt I deserved the five-mark penalty, this woman was crazy if she thought I was going to let anybody get away with punching me in the stomach. Later that day, she said to me, "See me after class." While I was frustrated, I figured at least one side benefit of all this was that I was finally going to get her yardstick applied to my bottom. I even figured, since the spanking would surely last a few minutes, there was no way I would be able to catch the bus home. I hoped she would drive me home and give me a kiss as she let me out. Well, all my hopes and dreams went out the window when, right after the other kids left, she said, "You take this envelope home. It has a note to your parents. You bring it back to me tomorrow." Now not only was I not going to get my cherished spanking from my beautiful teacher, but I knew I was going to get a whipping from my father that I absolutely and positively did not want.
When dad arrived home, I was standing behind a big oak tree as scared as I could be. He came up and said with a big smile, "How you doing, partner?" I trembled and responded, "I had to bring home a note and you have to sign it." He said, "Well, what's the matter?" I just said, "I've been bad, daddy." He read the note, which said I had been a very unruly kid and that, as things stood now, I had 35 marks with two weeks still left before the six weeks were up. She said right now she would give me a "D" in conduct but that, if I got one more mark, I would receive an "F." Dad looked at me and, not in an angry tone, told me, "Go to your room."
I went to my bedroom and laid down on the bed knowing full well what would happen. My heart was being so fast I thought it would come out of my chest. About four minutes later, my dad came in with the belt doubled over. He stood right beside me and stared me in the face. I said nothing but just waited anxiously for my punishment to be meted out. It's been 27 years now, and I still can't tell you what went through his mind, but he turned and left my room after standing there beside me about 30 seconds. I still don't know whether my mom may have pleaded on my behalf or what. I just honestly don't know. Anyway, about three minutes later he came back in with his belt back around his pants. I thought to myself that surely he was going to spank me with at least his hand. He sat down on the side of the bed and said, "Do you think you can go two full weeks without getting another mark?" I told him I would do my very best. He said that, if I failed, that belt was going to be put to work. I hugged him. As I handed her the note the next day, my teacher asked me what my dad said, and I replied, "He said don't get another mark."
Each day at supper he would ask me if I got a mark, and I would proudly say no. On the second Thursday, however, I slipped. Our teacher had told us she wanted total silence. My neighbor asked me what time it was about ten minutes later, and I whispered a response to him. She heard me. She had been impressed with my good behavior, and I don't think she wanted to tell me to go put a mark on the list. She couldn't let the class think I was receiving favoritism, though, and she did say, "Go put a mark on the list." The boy who asked me the time whispered, "I'm sorry," as I sat back in my seat. I nodded my head that it was all right (fearing a verbal response would land me another mark). Boy was I dreading supper that night!
Dad posed the question, and I said, "Yes sir." I guess he knew it was going to be practically impossible for me to go two weeks without getting a mark, and he asked, rather nonchalantly, "What did you do?" I told him. He responded, "When I went to school, you were allowed to whisper." I told him that, when she said silence, she meant silence and that I knew that. I won't ever forget his reply: "Well, you 'ain't getting' no whippin' for whispering." I could not believe my ears!! In the end, my second grade teacher didn't have the heart to give me the "F," and I got a "D." Also, now that I knew what the penalty was, the last six weeks of school I only got four marks and got an "A" in conduct. My teacher called me to her as I boarded the bus after the last day of school. She gave me a big hug and a kiss right on my right cheek.
Well, at least I got half of what I wanted from her!!!!