The following piece is entirely fictional. Samuel is the name I often use for the unfortunate lead in stories, but this is not part of a serial.
First lesson Monday morning; French. To a schoolboy, French refers to the lesson, not the nationality. It is one of those subjects that is done. Like one did geography, history and maths, so one did French. Though after three weeks of doing French Samuel was beginning to feel that the subject was doing him. He wasnt picking it up very well and was increasingly finding himself sitting silently, dreading the moment that Mr. Tanner would ask him a question in the mysterious tongue, the answer to which would be no more apparent to Samuel than the meaning of life the universe and everything.
Today there was a more pressing matter on Samuels mind, far more than the fear of not knowing what Mr. Tanner was talking about. As he walked towards the staircase leading up to the French class, jostling for position in the busy corridor, he was trying to convince himself that he would not be the only one who had not handed in their homework at the end of the lesson the previous Friday.
Foolish? Yes, of course. Fool hardy, psychotic even, considering Mr. Tanners reputation.
Richard Tanner was a tall man, slim, in his mid forties. Though his facial appearance was somehow remarkable, Sam couldnt pinpoint what it was: his nose was proportionate, his cheekbones were not too pronounced, his skin was a little coarse and red. His eyes were brown and bright, but not wide or particularly inviting. But he was somehow _s_e_x_y. And scary. The boys generally behaved well for him. He might have been considered forebodingly stern had he not managed to keep an entertaining air in the room, even when meting out punishment, which he often did.
In fact, the first boy to be caned, Timothy Uttley, had been chased round the room by Tanner, jumping over chairs and tables to much hilarity from the class, including the teacher. Samuel thought Tim was a sweet boy, they were good friends, in the same House and tutor group. Samuel was very attracted to Tim, he had a cute face and a cute bottom, especially in the snug black school trousers. Tims white shirt would sometimes become a little un-tucked and a white cotton tail would be visible below the line of his black jumper, caressing his buttocks, signifying a state of undress. Sam found this extremely _s_e_x_y. (Later in life it occurred to him that Tanner probably thought the same way about Tim). So Sam was eager to witness the whippy cane in action, and others too, apparently, because it was two of Tims so called classmates who collared him and held him for Tanner. Tanner had taken the boy by his scruff and marched him to the front and up onto the platform, Come along Uttley, he had said through a slightly mad grin, lets show the class what happens to naughty boys.
With a hand round Uttleys neck he had guided the boy into position with a stiff command, Bend! Mr. Tanner had instructed Uttley to count the strokes and thank him after each one.... a full ritual, perfect entertainment for everyone present. When Tim stood up he was close to tears and red as a beetroot, but the class was happy, if silent. Tanner, still showing signs of one having fun, joked, now go and sit on what I have taught you. Laughter.
So, maybe the punishment would not be so bad after all. Well, there was another memory that kept replaying in his mind. Brett Chamberlin, another class member, though somewhat more of a rogue than Uttley, had been sighted by Tanner fighting in the playing field when he should have been with the rest of them in the classroom. The field was overlooked by the first floor room so Tanner leaned out the window and balled at him, Chamberlin! Bring your backside to me, boy. Now! The class again had become quickly excited in anticipation. But as Chamberlin made his way to the class he was oblivious to Tanners lecture, in serious tones, on how he deplored fighting and lateness in turn. It seemed that Brett was in for a mighty hard time on arrival.
The boy was at the front of the class, bent over Tanners desk with his pants down for a good three or four minutes while Tanner lectured him. Then Tanner had produced a cane much bigger than the one Uttley had felt and whacked it down six times across Bretts lily-white behind. The lad had howled and cried after the fourth one. Tanner made no jokes as he sent the boy to his chair. The class was just slightly shocked. During the same lesson Samuel had witnessed two others had taken two strokes each over their desks for not following the topic.
But still, as he ambled up he corridor towards the French room he was fairly certain he would be one of a number who hadnt handed in their work. But his certainty was waning. He began to think that nobody else could have been that stupid. What would they have been thinking? That Tanner wouldnt notice? That hed die over the weekend? That he wouldnt mind!
In earlier times this situation would have been countered with skiving. But, almost as quickly as hed learned to skive hed been caught. However, hed been spared the rod on that occasion due to an elaborate lie and only a detention had befallen him, and a report card. So now, if he skived again for the duration of his third year he would be whacked in front of the school. Hed witnessed the event, didnt fancy getting too close to it.
There has to be another whos in my boat, he thought, my boat thats leaking really horribly.... one other, surely. A darkness began to fall, began to build heavily in the pit of his belly. Again he saw Chamberlin, the rogue, the otherwise hard boy of the class, wailing like a girl as Tanner thrashed his naked buttocks in front of the class. The world was focusing in on his act of true stupidity, this mighty example of a lack of forethought. Where in the name of the one true lord in whom hed never had the slightest belief did he ever find the courage to ignore Mr. Tanners homework? What a ghastly, magnificent error.
He plodded up the stairs and bumped into Clive, a rather clever boy who usually scored As and Bs and always did his homework, unless of course hed had insider information, or had remembered in his retentive way that a teacher was on holiday on the day of the deadline.
Hi Sam, he chirped, probably not realising how much Samuel despised his every fibre at that moment, Done ya homework?
Samuel smiled _c_o_c_k_ily, Nope, but realised of course that Clive would very probably be the one smiling soon. Clive rolled his eyes and smiled a sort of knowing smile and continued into the room. The look irritated Sam hugely. Clive was a smug boy, but then he probably had reason to be; he was rarely in the bad books of any teacher as far as Sam could see. Sam thought, why would the little creep be asking about the status of my homework production anyway? Is he hoping for a showdown? Then it occurred that if anyone wasnt going to do the confounded stuff it was going to be him.... and of course any boy in his right mind wants to see the rules challenged.
He entered the classroom and plonked himself down on the chair at his usual desk, third row from the front. It was strange, he thought, but he never set out to challenge the rules, he just never set out to follow them. He hadnt not done the work maliciously, it was just that he preferred to go down to the local woods and play, go for a bike ride, watch some telly, play some music and generally hang lose with his friends.... and there went a perfectly acceptable weekends entertainment. No malicious intent. Though hed been aware of the work quota on and off it had not encroached upon his consciousness enough to bother him. In fact, he could not understand how it was that other boys were forced by their parents to complete the tasks before being allowed out to play.... or anywhere else. His own parents didnt enquire too much, and he lied to them if they did.
Still, other boys were not currently seeing the world with the lights dimmed right now, and they werent carrying a bowling ball in their gut, and they werent hearing the groans of sinners having their privates torched. Oh hell, get it over with, he thought. He looked out of the window. The sky was cloudy but the sun was shining through, it was a warm July day. The sports field held his attention as the class filled.
The hubbub around him sounded like freedom, like guys chatting about whatever they liked, like the absence of teachers. Liam Campbell sat down at the bench in front of him. Liam was a regular non-doer of work. Surely....
Li he called,
Yeah, Liam turned round, Hi Chap, whats up?
Done ya homework? He asked hopefully. But Liam smiled apologetically, Yeah, had to. Then it dawned on him that Samuel must have failed to do it and he lit up, You?
Nope. Liam went silent and grinned. It started as a grin of appreciation, a sort of well done, but turned into something more worrying; a youre going to get punished to death and thankfully Im not, sort of grin. He began to feel more alone.
His good friend Matthew sat down in his usual place next to Sam, but Sam was too sick right now to say hello audibly. Matthew was a robust chap, good sportsman but a fair intellectual also, not a swat but a hard worker, a level headed guy who Sam liked, perhaps more than Matthew knew.
Matthew looked breezy and happy for no apparent reason, You alright, Sammy? He asked as he pulled out his text book from his bag.
Yeah, said Samuel, rather unconvincingly, but he had not the strength for ridicule the likes of which Matthew would have dished out had he known about the impending situation. He removed his own text book from his bag and slapped it down on the desk.
The class was full. All twenty boys were present and the volume was rising. Three or four minutes into the lesson and still no teacher.... a flicker of hope rose in him, gradually, sweetly....
Do you think hes here, he asked Matthew, who had been in conversation with Stewart Parchester to his right, a keen cricketer like Matthew and irritatingly good academically for a sportsman.
What? Matt turned to him. Who?
Tanner.
Yeah, yeah, he was here earlier, playing football in the playground. He began to chuckle. Stewart had witnessed the same event and the two began to discuss it in jovial terms, like they both found Tanner amusing, like he was their mate or something, Samuel resented their fearlessness. Matthew took most of schools horrors in his stride. At his previous school hed been whacked far more often than anyone at the Grange, so the whole place seemed tame to him. Not to Sam though. No. To him the place was Hells theme park.
He still had time to run, to disappear across the expanse of the playing field. He could go down to the woods, to the river. He could relax and listen to the gurgling water, smoke a cigarette and watch the light shimmering, listen to the peace and quiet and take in the earthy smell that reminded him so much of freedom and friends, of no concerns and no bloody teachers and parents and
The door slammed hard and the hubbub stopped suddenly.
Hayward! he bellowed as he strode down the aisle, Stand!
Samuel almost wet himself as he stood, the chair legs screeched on the hard floor.
Tanner reached the front and turned, continuing at equal volume, Get your pants down, boy, and bend over your desk!