I grew up over thirty years ago in what was sometimes called "God's Country." (Or, at least if you asked my Mormon friends, they'd tell you that.) Even in God's Country, boys will be boys in school. When this got to a point where it was excessive, there was a standard plan to deal with it. Just about all of us boys found ourselves being escorted out to the hallway. Once we got there, we all knew what was coming. It was time to spread your legs wide, bend over and grab your ankles, and receive several sound paddle swats across our tightly stretched jeans. With each lick, our anxiously awaiting bottoms stung wildly at first, then the sting transitioned out to an unpleasant, prolonged, warm, burning sensation across our properly punished rears.
I remember getting paddled in school, and I remember my classmates getting paddled as well. This story recalls a classmate of mine, a young blond boy I'll call Tracy. Tracy was a natural born runner, long legged and fleet of foot. I don't remember what Tracy did to get the paddle, but I remember the aftermath well. After being paddled out the in hallway, he went up to the desk of Mr. Leigh, our teacher. Tracy told him, "I don't think my paddling was enough for what I did."
Mr. Leigh, surprised, asked Tracy, "Do you feel you need to be paddled again? If so, I will paddle you again."
Tracy responded to this statement by spreading his legs wide, bending over, and grabbing his ankles. He wasn't even going to go out to the hallway, he was going to take his swats in front of the entire class. Mr. Leigh took his paddle and landed one strong lick across Tracy's bottom. He waited a few seconds, then repeated the process again. On the third lick, Tracy started crying and he jumped up. Mr. Leigh let him return to his desk, where Tracy, now properly punished by his point of view, sat sobbing for several minutes.
I remember talking to about it to Tracy, I said, "Tracy, you must be absolutely crazy. Getting paddled once and then asking for another one!"
Tracy responded by saying, "I didn't cry the first time, it wasn't enough." Apparently, Tracy needed to cry when he got paddled. Weird kid; I guess being blond must affect your brain.