In the junior high I attended, the coach who taught phys ed (and health) had one way disciplining: the paddle. Every school year he would start out by listing off offenses that would result in the offended receiving two or three swats with the paddle. The speech was intimidating enough to keep us in line for a month or so, but 12-14 year old boys being what they are, it was never far into October before one or more offender would enter the equipment room after showering up, and almost everyone who entered left with red eyes and tear streaked faces. Being one of the better students in my class, and a distance runner for the track team which the pys ed teacher coached, I managed to avoid the paddle until nearly the end of my 8th grade year--my last year before senior high school. The day I faced the paddle was the final day before the brief spring break, and everyone was a bit more boisterous than usual. Added to this was the fact that it was raining, which meant we couldn't go outside to play soccer. Instead we stayed in the gym and played dodge ball. The game was simple: the class divided up into two teams and played fifteen minute games. If you were hit by one the four balls being thrown back and forth you were out, and the team with the most people left after fifteen minutes won. Anyway, during the second game I dodged a ball that was thrown at me, picked it up, and without really looking at who I was throwing it at, winged the ball at an opponent on the other side of the court. The guy that I threw the ball at was a legend at my junior high. He should have been well into his high school career, being sixteen years of age because of flunking so many times. He was also legendary because of his temper, and did not like being eliminated during dodge ball. Unfortunately for me, not only did I hit him, but I nailed him right in the balls from maybe 10 feet away at most. He came at me swinging and I defended myself as well as a scrawny 14-year-old distance runner could, which wasn't very well. The coach stopped us before he managed to hurt me too badly, and told us to see him in his office after we changed. After changing, me and my opponent (who by that time had forgotten about being mad at me--he had a quick temper, but cooled off soon after getting angry) went into the coaches office. He told me to wait outside while he talked to the other guy, which took all of about 30 seconds. He came out and I went in, closing the door behind me. The coach said "Son, I saw what happened out there, and it was obvious you didn't intentionally him him where you did, and you only defended yourself when he came after you. He is going to receive the usual three whacks for fighting, but because he started it, I'm prepared to let you off with an afterschool detention. And you'll have to run extra laps at practice because the detention will make you late. Unless, of course, you prefer to take the whacks."
I knew coach's reputation with the paddle, and thought seriously about taking the detention instead--I was no fool. But if I got off with an afterschool while James (the other guy) got whacked, he would continue to antagonize me constantly, and we still had a month of school left. Coach's paddling would hurt, but it would over and done with by the time my next class started. I said as much to coach, and he responded: "I thought that was what you'd say. But understand that if you do choose the three whacks, I won't go any easier on you than I would if you had instigated the fight. It will hurt, and hurt badly."
I nodded my head, and told him that I would take the whacks, and was told to wait on the bench outside until class was dismissed. Five minutes later, me James, and Coach headed to the equipment room on the far side of the gym, coach with paddle in hand. The paddle was a terror to behold, very long and with holes drilled in it to increase the sting. As if coach needed any help making it sting!! James would be the first to receive his whacks, and was told to bend over, place his hands on his knees, and brace. He smirked at coach with a "i can take anything you can give me" look, swaggered over, and got into position. His smug look lasted as long as the first whack. Coach drew back the paddle, held it in the air for a few seconds, and delivered a punishing blow to James' ass. WHACK!! I couldn't believe how loud it sounded! James went as white as a sheet, and I could see tears in his eyes. WHACK!! The second swat exploded onto James's ass; he let out a strangled cry, and started to cry softly. WHACK!! With the third whack, James lost all composure. He started sobbing uncontrollaby, and starting rubbing his ass frantically. Then I heard the dreaded words: "Tony, get into position"
All that was running through my head as I got into position was "What the _f_u_c_k_ was I thinking! i should have taken the afterschool". But it was far too late for that, I was stuck with my decision. When I was ready, coach drew back the paddle, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to think about it. WHACK! I couldn't believe the pain from just that one swat! It felt like my whole ass was on fire; nothing I had ever gotten at home came even close to this. And I still had two more to go. I was determined not to cry, but I knew the chances of that were slim; I had heard it rumored that if you weren't crying after two, coach really went all out on the third to bring you to tears. WHACK! The second swat lit into me, and I couldn't believer that something could possibly hurt that much. Somehow, I managed to keep from crying out or shedding any tears, but I was on the verge of sobbing, and I knew the last swat was going to push me over the edge. The coach paused for a few seconds before the third, and I heard him take a few steps back. "Oh God", I thought, "He's going to step into it because I haven't started crying yet, holy _s_h_i_t_, Oh my _f_u_c_k_ing..." WHACK!!! The pain from the first two swats were nothing compared to the third swat. I immediately s started to sob uncontrollably, jumping up and down and rubbing my flaming ass. The only shred of dignity left to me at all was that I was able to take two swats before bawling like a five-year-old, and James was only able to take one. Later that day in track practice, coach told me that he was impressed with how well I took it, and that I had proved that I was much more of a man than that worthless bully.
Unfortunately, my school had a policy of informing parents of any punishment given, and my dad had a rule about getting whacked at school that said that me or any of ny brothers would receive double what we received. But that's another story for another time.