Letter to parents – consequences.
It will make more sense to the reader if the letter is read first. See Letter to parents.
Mr Smith had just read a letter received in the morning post and was in deep thought. He had just handed it over to his wife who was reading it. It was breakfast in the Smith household and the only other member of the family, twelve year old Philip was busy devouring a bowl of Cornflakes. His father looked at him. The boy was growing fast he thought but not necessarily for the better. His breakfast finished, Philip jumped up from the table and ran upstairs. He was late as usual having stayed in bed far too long and in danger of missing the school bus that was to convey him the eight miles to his grammar school.
"Well, what do you think of that?" Mr Smith asked his wife who had just finished reading the letter.
"It sounds a wonderful idea on first reading but I think we need to think about it"
"I agree. Let me read it again" he said and Mrs Smith handed the letter over.
A loud thumping indicated Philip's arrival from upstairs and he rushed into the kitchen took the sandwich box containing his lunch and stuffed it into his satchel amongst some rapidly prepared homework that was unlikely to be marked very highly by his teachers. His father looked at him again.
"Come on now Philip, look at yourself. Your tie is undone and shirt hanging out. You really must to learn to be tidy. And just look at your shoes. Have you polished them today?"
"Sorry Dad, haven't had time" replied the boy, straightening his tie and nearly tucking his shirt in at the back of his dark grey school trousers.
"Well make sure you make time tomorrow or there will be trouble," said Dad whilst noticing for the first time it seemed that his son was now in long trousers. He thought back to a year or so ago when he remembered whacking the boy's bottom with a slipper when he was about to go off to school with his socks around his ankles. He remembered him bending over in the kitchen in his junior school uniform with his neat grey short trousers stretched over his bottom and dusting the grey material with his slipper. Sometimes after school or at weekends he would take his trousers and underpants down for the slipper and go off to bed in floods of tears. He had been promised a caning a few times but no such punishment had ever been inflicted in this house.
"Bye!" said Philip and headed for the door. Mr Smith suddenly rose and went after his son.
"Philip. Just a moment. Did you hear what I just said?"
"Yeah"
"YES - I think you mean. Yes SIR. Now as soon as you have finished your homework tonight, bring it to me in the lounge, together with your homework book. I want to have a word with you."
"Right, yes sorry. Sir. Can I go now?"
"Yes. Off you go son and don't miss the bus"
Philip left the house, slamming the front door behind him, wondering what all that was about. It all sounded a little ominous and his bottom tingled as it always used to when he was going to get the slipper. Surely dad wasn't going to do that again. Then he remembered he always had to call dad Sir when he was in trouble.
Mr. Smith returned to his breakfast and read the letter again, slowly absorbing the import of its contents. "Why not", he mused.
"Did you say something, dear" asked Mrs Smith
"Oh. Yes. I just said, why not. Why not make Philip join this club. You just saw the way he went out. He seems to have lost all respect. Ever since I stopped giving him the slipper. Ever since he started wearing long trousers. I mean how was it he did that? I don't remember being consulted. He is not even thirteen yet"
"It says in the letter that he would have to go back to short trousers right through school. He won't like that."
"I don't suppose he will but it will not be up to him. He will have to learn to do as he's told again."
"The thing is dear", said Mrs Smith "Its your fault really. Why did you stop punishing him? You threatened him with the stick a few times but I never remember you ever giving it to him. I thought that when he moved up to the grammar you might get yourself a cane and I think it's a great shame he doesn't get it at school."
"I suppose you're right. I don't know why I never caned him. He has certainly deserved it quite a few times. This club thing seems exceptionally strict though and it would really mean we would be expected to cane him a lot"
"You used to slipper him a lot. He used to get it at least once a week for a time and for quite little things. I mean you were very strict with him. Quite the Victorian father"
"Did you mind?" asked the husband
"Quite the opposite" answered the wife. "I think boys need strict discipline and there is nothing at all wrong with regular good hidings. My brother used to get them from my father. He really laid it on right up until he was 17. So did yours you told me"
Mr. Smith thought back to his father's thrashings, which were both frequent and severe.
"Yes he certainly did. And I intended to keep it up with Philip. I used to really lay the slipper on but the cane is different. I used to have stripes on my bottom that lasted well over a week and it hurts more than anything you can imagine. I used to cry the house down even when I was sixteen."
"Well you should have behaved yourself. Nobody tells a boy to be disobedient. It was up to you I should think. I mean reading this letter the rules are going to be strict but Philip can always obey them."
"So he can. How logical you are – sometimes"
Mrs Smith poured another cup of coffee and handed it to her husband. There was a long pause as each read the letter again. Mr Smith looked at his watch.
"I will have to go." And he stood up.
"I think I will cane Philip tonight."
"That will be quite a shock"
"It will, but he does have it coming to him. I expect there will be quite a performance in getting him to take it."
"It won't worry me, dear" said Mrs Smith. "It won't be me getting my bottom striped. I was quite used to George screaming the place down but he always got over it. Philip used to make enough fuss when you gave him trousers down slipperings. It will do the boy good. It's been far too long"
"Good. That's settled then and I take it we shall volunteer him for the new club"
"Certainly"
"Then I shall do that today. Let's hope a quorum is reached", said Mr Smith as he picked up his briefcase and pecked his wife on the cheek. Then he thought of something else.
"Has Philip still got any of his school shorts"
"Not that he could get on. He's grown so much in the last year. I think he is a size 10 – 28" waist. His shoe size is 5 if you're thinking about socks"
"I was" grinned the husband and left the house for work and a little shopping trip.
He found it difficult to get on with work. He kept visualising the scene he was going to enact this evening. He was going to have to be hard on Philip and he wondered how he would take it. He wished he had not stopped punishing him, it would be so much easier. He would have to do what he used to do when he was little and give extra whacks if he moved. These would be strokes though, with a cane. The he realised he did not actually have a cane. He composed the following letter.
"Dear Headmaster,
Thank you for the letter received today concerning your idea of a club at the school. My wife and I thoroughly agree with your proposal, which I have to say has come at an excellent time. I was always very strict with Philip (Smith, P 2B) up to the end of his junior school and used a slipper on him quite severely at times. I regret I lapsed in his corporal punishment and discipline generally during his first year at grammar school and now find I regret this. Although he remained in short trousers during the First Year, along with a sizeable minority I believe, he is now in long trousers and no longer wearing his uniform with pride. I do not believe he even possesses a cap.
Whether or not you get enough boys to form this club – should you call it a "Schoolboy Society"? - Philip is going to experience what it would be like to be a member, at least at home. He is returning to short trousers immediately or rather from tomorrow as I find I have to purchase some and this evening I wish to give him a caning for some misbehaviour this morning.
I am wondering whether you would be able to lend me a suitable cane to avoid having to use a bamboo one, which I could no doubt find in the garden shed. I would much rather use a rattan school cane of the sort I was very familiar with.
Yours sincerely,
J P Smith"
Having written the letter he realised that he would need to get to the school in order to borrow a cane, if Philip was to receive his first ever caning this evening. He picked up the telephone and dialled the school's number. Eventually the friendly voice was heard that the headmaster always used when talking to parents.
"Good morning Mr Smith"
"Good morning Headmaster. I am Philip Smith's father – 2B and I have received your letter about the club. A fantastic idea"
"Thank you. Can I take it you will be enrolling your son?"
"Certainly, if we may."
"Philip will have the honour of being its very first member"
"Oh. Right. Excellent. I have written you a brief letter but am wondering if I could get in to see you today and . . a rather unusual request . . . have you a cane I could borrow."
"Why certainly. It would be best after school; around 5 o'clock any good."
"Yes, thank you headmaster. I will see you then."
Little work was achieved that day. He was on a mission and was determined that the scruffy rude boy who had left home this morning would end the day as a smart short-trousered schoolboy with a well caned bottom and feeling very sorry for himself. He went to the school outfitters and purchased two pairs of traditionally styled grey terylene/worsted short trousers for Philip together with six pairs of school regulation socks and six pairs of plain grey long turn over top socks. That will do as a start he thought. He would take Philip shopping for a suit and more clothes on Saturday.
"Enter"
Mr Smith went into the headmaster's study and was shaken warmly by the hand.
"Jolly nice to meet you again Mr Smith. Have a seat" he said indicating a large leather chair.
"Thank you. I hope you don't mind seeing you at short notice. Here's the letter"
The headmaster took the letter and read it.
"Quite understand. Quite understand. Delighted to help you" and he went over to a cupboard and took out half a dozen assorted canes and laid them on his desk. "Take your pick. I'm afraid they have been gathering dust. I have plenty more"
"Oh thanks" and Mr Smith picked up each cane in turn and examined them.
"Philip is twelve. Average size I think. Which do you think?"
The headmaster took one of the thinner ones, which was a little under 3/8" thick, 2' 9" long with a crook handle. "Try this one. It will be the sort we shall use on him if we get enough members. If he is foolish enough to get sent to me he'll go over the back the chair your sitting on"
"With his trousers down?"
"Yes. Always from me as I said in the letter. And underpants down of course. On his bare bottom. How did you slipper him?"
"Like that often – sometimes through his shorts"
"Well that cane will be effective through trousers as well but its much better for him on his bare bottom – from his dad anyway."
Up until then Mr Smith had not decided that he was going to tell Philip to pull his trousers down but now the boy's fate was sealed. He stood up and looked at the leather chair and tried to see his son stretched across it with his trousers down. He wondered whether his bottom had grown much. Oh well he would soon find out.
"Well thank you so much headmaster. I wish you well with this project. Has anybody else joined yet?"
"I received three calls after yours and one confirmed in writing. Philip is still member No. 1. I really like your idea of calling it 'The Schoolboy Society'. It gives it an air of respectability and permanence and with that name boys could join from any school."
Mr Smith parted from the headmaster and strode out of the school carrying his son's new clothes in the shop bag in his right hand and the school cane in his left.
Philip had experienced a bad day at school.
He missed the morning school bus by about a yard and what was really infuriating is that the conductor could easily have rung the bell but instead just grinned at Philip. He would have made it if dad had not been is such a sweat. It was the second time he had been late this term and he was now in detention.
The maths lesson was extremely uncomfortable as Mr Jones seemed very cross with everybody and handed out five detentions and six sets of lines. Philip now had to do 200 lines by tomorrow morning for talking.
In French there was a vocabulary test based on last night's learning homework, which Philip had only really glanced at. His result was 4 out of 20 and he was to be kept in tonight.
He left English unscathed but had to face a very angry History master for an appalling homework essay he had handed in and now had to redo.
It was freezing and wet in double games and it was rugby, which he hated and was shouted at several times by both boys and the master for doing really stupid things. Philip had not bothered to learn the rules and no idea of the object of the game. It was there he thought, just to make his life miserable.
He only made it to the French master's detention class by skipping a shower and spent a miserable and uncomfortable half an hour having to repeat silly French words over and over again with three other boys.
At last he was released and he took his heavy-laden satchel to the bus stop just in time to catch the late bus. He got on with Turner with whom he had shared the detention and they sat together at the top.
"I've got loads to do tonight" Philip complained
"So've I"
"And my dad was in a lousy mood this morning – and wants to see me tonight" Philip said in a mocking voice.
"I expect its about the letter", said Turner glumly.
"What letter"
"Haven't you heard. A letter's been sent out asking which parents want the school to cane us"
Philip felt distinctly nervous. Dad was reading a letter at breakfast and then he was so cross – like he used to be. He remembered the slipper and how many times dad had said he was going to get the stick next time. He had often thought about getting that. It sounded really terrible.
"How do you know?" asked Philip
"Grainger told me. His dad showed it to him this morning"
"Grainger! Him of the little trousers"
Grainger's claim to fame is that he was the only boy to return to school in the Second Form still in short trousers. What was not known by any boy, was that Grainger's father was a very strict disciplinarian and was delighted that there was now a good chance that a few other boys might now experience what it is like to be the recipient of a similar approach. He regularly caned his son and was intending to keep him in short trousers for as long as he reasonably could. Now it seemed it could be as long as he really wanted, until he left school. Also was the knowledge that his boy would soon be able to be caned at school as well as at home. This was excellent news that he immediately shared with his son who in turn could not resist telling Turner, who he hated, that he expected he, Turner, might be wearing short trousers again. Turner thought his parents would not go that far. Grainger on the other hand had been enrolled already as member No. 2.
"Him of the little trousers soon to be joined by others I gather," said Turner
"What?" exclaimed Schoolboy Society member No. 1
"The letter said that some parents will be making boys stay in short trousers all the time and have to wear caps and even have to go to school on Saturday mornings", said Turner not believing for one second that any of this could apply to him, or to his companion.
"Cricky!" responded Philip, perhaps already unconsciously becoming his new identity. He had never said "Cricky" before. That was from old comics he thought. He felt his bottom tingling as his mind went over what his father had said this morning. He was to take his homework book to him. He hadn't looked at that for ages and it was going to be dreadful. In one day he had been given a school detention, lines and a class detention plus having to do his history homework again. Most of this will be recorded in the homework book. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach and his willy felt all tickley. He felt down for it under the heavy satchel on his lap to try and comfort himself. Turner didn't know about the slipperings he used to get and perhaps now was it going to be the cane! Smith no longer wanted to talk and reached in his satchel for his Maths exercise book, took his fountain pen from his inside pocket of his blazer and started writing as best as he could under the handicap of the vehicle's movement: "I must learn to pay full attention in class". After repeating the sentence seven times Turner asked:
"What will you're parents do?"
"Nothing of course" replied Smith as convincingly as he could manage.
"Why are you late?" demanded mum as Philip slammed the front door.
"I got kept in"
"You can tell your father about that. He wants to see you as soon as you have finished your homework"
"I know. He told me this morning"
"Don't speak to me like that, Philip"
"Sorry"
"Now get straight on with your work"
"After I've changed"
"No. Stay in your school uniform. Get straight on with your homework" replied Mrs Smith and sounding very severe. She did not seem to notice that her son was very dirty and could really do with a good bath. Philip did not argue and went up to his room and finished off his lines before anything else, wondering again about what was going to happen later. The instruction to remain in school uniform was very worrying. The lines completed, he redid his history essay, which took nearly an hour. Next he completed his Geography homework, which he always found easy and some algebra that he found very difficult. He was meant to learn a silly poem for English and thought he would do that on the bus in the morning. His mother had brought up a cup of tea and some biscuits but by now he was famished and just wanted his supper. It was already five past seven. The idea of seeing his dad now was daunting.
Mr Smith arrived home quite early and settled into the lounge to read. He placed his cane on top of one of the bookcases and laid Philip's new clothes on an armchair, over which he intended Philip to bend later. He had agreed with his wife that supper would be later this evening. At ten past seven Philip walked in.
"Well Philip. Have you had a good day at school."
"No."
"No, what?"
"No, Sir?"
"That's better. Now remember that in future. Show me your homework book"
Philip handed over the book and went to sit down whilst his father read it.
"Stay standing!"
The instruction came in a very authoritarian tone. Philip obeyed with increasing nervousness.
"This is disgraceful!"
Philip examined the carpet.
"Look at me!"
Philip did so and met his father's angry eyes.
"Have you redone the history essay?"
Yes.
"YES SIR"
"Yes Sir"
"And the lines?"
"Yes Sir"
"You were kept in for French as well. Is there anything else?"
"I got a school detention." "Sir"
"What for"
"Missing the bus this morning, which was not my fault"
"SIR"
"Sir"
"How dare you say it was not you're fault. You got up too late as you often do. That is going to change. Tomorrow morning you will report to the kitchen for breakfast at 7.30 sharp in your full school uniform. Hair combed, shoes cleaned, tie straight, shirt tucked in, socks pulled up, cap ready to be put on. ."
"Cap. I don't have a cap and don't wear long socks"
"Silly me. I was forgetting you have now grown out of all that haven't you?"
Philip really didn't like the way his father was talking
"Yes sir" he ventured timidly.
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes. Famished."
"SIR"
"Famished, Sir"
Well the reason I wanted to see you first was to discuss your behaviour this morning. Quite frankly it was not acceptable and I am going to punish you.
"Punish, Sir?"
"Yes, Philip. It has been too long. I think it was over a year since I gave you a slippering. You were still in junior school. I have been neglecting my duty I fear but will now make amends. There is also the contents of this homework book to consider"
Philip's heart began to beat loudly and he unthinkingly put both of his hands on his bottom. His father noticed this. It was like it used to be but this time he would not be taking his slipper off. He had no idea that Philip already had an inkling that there was something much worse in store for him. His chat with Turner on the bus home had prepared the boy and this was going to make what followed so much easier.
"Hang your blazer up behind the door"
Philip obediently removed his blazer and put it on the small hook.
"Now take your trousers off"
"Right off do you mean Sir"
"Yes please. You will have to take your shoes off first"
Philip sat on an armchair and undid his school shoes and kicked them off.
"Neatly now Philip. Lay them down neatly together."
Philip tidied his shoes.
"Hurry up with your trousers"
Philip undid the clasp and let them drop to the floor. The sat down and yanked them over his feet. His father picked them up and laid them on a chair, where the boy noticed some other clothes but could not make them out. He felt vulnerable now in just his underpants. His eye was on his father, By now he would have been taking off a slipper. Instead he was reaching up to the bookcase and . . . . he took down a cane. A school cane!
"Oh No Dad. Please. Not that . . "
"Silence Philip. I don't know how many times I have told you I shall be giving you the stick. This is very overdue as I think you know. This is not just for your attitude this morning it is for your attitude generally as manifested in the disgraceful schoolwork you have been doing recently. It is totally unacceptable. You are capable of far better. It is also for not having a shower after games. I am not blind. Your knees are caked with mud. How can you get dressed in that state? Now take your underpants down"
"Please dad. Sir. Let me keep those on. Please"
"HURRY UP"
Philip obeyed. It was as if it was only yesterday he was beaten by his father. He knew his mood. He slipped his pants down below his knees and faced his father.
"Do I just bend over?" he enquired
"I think it will be better across the chair. Over the back of the armchair"
Philip stretched himself over the back and he felt his father tap is bottom with the cane gently. He hated how his bottom felt when waiting for the slipper. It was always cold for some reason until the slipper did its work. He wondered what the cane was going to actually be like. He was also aware of the clothes on the chair. They looked like school socks poking out from beneath his recently removed trousers. Now he knew the worst. He could see the edge of white lining in some shiny new trousers, indicating they were short ones – like Grainger still wears.
The first stroke came and Philip leapt up in absolute agony.
"Aaahhhgh . Oh No Sir ." He clutched his bottom and danced around the room.
"GET BACK INTO POSITION"
"Pl - - e - -ase Sir. Can I have the slipper? Please." Said Philip standing before the chair rubbing his bottom as hard as he could.
"No. You are nearly thirteen years old. It is the cane for you from now on. If you don't want it then you must behave. Bend over."
Philip breathed hard. "Please Sir. Just give me a moment or two. Just to prepare myself. I didn't know it could hurt that much"
"Alright. It does hurt I know."
Philip held his bottom and tried to stop crying. He concentrated on breathing. That used to seem to work. It was a question of mind over matter.
"Did you get the cane?" asked the boy, genuinely interested, not only trying to delay his punishment.
"Most certainly. Your Grandfather caned me from about 7 and didn't stop until 16 if I remember correctly. I never had the slipper"
Philip gave a moment to consider this. He could not imagine his grandfather caning his father. It had never occurred to him to ask before.
"Did you have to take your trousers down too"
"Yes. Every time. Not usually at school though. Only if it was the Headmaster."
"Wow!"
"Are you prepared now?"
"How many do I get, Sir"
"Six. Six of the best. The first did not count. If you remember when you were small you get extra if you move. It's just the same with the cane."
Philip did remember. He took an extra deep breath and bent over the back of the chair again.
His father then caned him hard and the boy took his medicine. He cried loudly all the way through but clutched the arms of the chair and resisted leaping up again. It was absolute agony. Nothing like he had ever experienced and much worse than twelve with the slipper. He counted the six to himself but forgot the rule about not getting up until told to do so and this disobedience earned him another stroke. His father gave this one right in the crease marking the division between his bottom and his legs. Philip howled. His mother heard this from the garden at the back of the house, where she was collecting the washing in from the line. Supper was ready and waiting.
"Right Philip. It's over. Make sure you learn from this. I think supper must be ready. Get dressed and go and wash your face and legs. You will need to put these on" and Philip's father handed the boy one of the new pairs of short trousers and a pair of the school stockings. Philip pulled his underpants up and took the short trousers without comment. He started to put them on.
"No. Not here. Not in the state you are in. Those are brand new clothes for school tomorrow. Go and wash first and dress in your bedroom. Full uniform please and take your blazer with you."
Philip was still crying as he went upstairs and went into the bathroom to wash his legs and face. He took his underpants down and used the flannel on his red hot bottom and could not help noticing the state it was in, in the long mirror. He ran his fingers over the welts before slipping his white briefs back on and went into his bedroom with his clothes.
He stepped into the new short trousers and pulled them up and sat gingerly on the bed and pulled on the school socks. He quite liked the comfortable feel of the clothes and particularly the crisp white lining of his new shorts. He put is blazer back on and combed his hair and went downstairs.
Whilst Philip was busy recovering his clothes and his composure his dad carefully replaced his new cane on the bookcase and took his son's long trousers into the kitchen and threw them in the bin, washed his hands and sat down to supper. Philip came down with red eyes but reasonably composed and sat down very carefully in his usual place.
Both parents looked at their son with great admiration. Their boy had returned.
"Its good to have you back" said his mother.
Philip looked at her and they both smiled. His father ate his supper secure in the knowledge that today he had done the best thing he ever had for his boy, who he loved dearly. Philip ate quietly but his brain was in a whirl. Should he ask about the letter? Is he really going to have to go to school in short trousers tomorrow?
His father came to see him just after he got into bed.
"Did you get a letter from school this morning?" asked Philip.