AFTER THE MATHS LESSON
The best pupil in my third form maths set was a boy called Norton. He was so well behaved the chances of my ever getting to punish him with a hundred lines, let alone a caning, were about as remote as my writing Fermatts Last Theorem on a piece of paper, flushing it down the toilet and seeing it washed up at my feet while I was strolling along the beach. But whatever deity it is that presides over mathematicians smiled on me.
We were in class one day and I was marking the exercise books. When I got to Nortons book I was pleased to note that he had solved one of the problems in a particularly ingenious way. I gave him full marks. A few exercise books later I came to Lancings work and was momentarily surprised to see that he had solved the problem in the same way as Norton. Now if ever there was a pupil who fitted the description "mediocre" Lancing was the boy. I looked up and saw that Norton and Lancing were sitting together.
"Lancing," I said, "did you copy this work from Norton?"
"Yes sir," came the answer.
"Norton," I continued, "did you allow Lancing to copy from you?"
"Yes sir," echoed Norton.
"You will both report to me in Room 18 after form order."
There was an undercurrent of murmuring as the astonished class realised that Norton was in trouble for the first time in history.
I uttered the time-honoured phrase, "All right class, get on with your work."
That lesson was the first of the day and I eagerly awaited my meeting with the two boys at the end of lessons. They were both waiting for me outside room 18 at the appointed time. Room 18 was a room set aside for senior masters who were not form masters.
I called in Lancing first and gave him the standard "You are only cheating yourself" lecture, caned him hard and set him some extra maths.
As he walked out rubbing his bottom I motioned Norton in. He was a little pale, as he must have heard Lancing getting it. He eyed the cane lying on the desk nervously.
"I shall immediately put you out of suspense and confirm that you are going to get the cane," I said. The boy wilted a little. "I do not need to tell you that it does not help Lancing if you let him copy your work. Your undoing was the brilliant way you solved that problem; a classic case of being too clever for your own good. Beware the arrogance of genius. There is no excuse for your behaviour, even if Lancing is your best friend. I consider your action to be worse than his and I shall therefore cane you on your bare bottom."
The boy paled a little more and gulped a "Yes sir."
"Have you ever been caned before?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"No sir."
"Have you ever been chastised?"
"Not for a long time. My mother used to spank me when I was little, but never...." His voice trailed off.
"But never on the bare bottom?" I hazarded.
"Yes sir. I mean, no sir."
"I shall cane you hard and it will hurt, but it will not be unbearable. Now I want you to take off your blazer and lay it on the side of my desk. You will then stand in front of the desk and take down your trousers and underpants. When you have done that you will bend over the desk and hold firmly on to the opposite side. You will not let go until I tell you to. If you do get up before the punishment is over I shall hold you down and cane you harder. Do you understand?"
The boy nodded.
"Please get ready to be caned."
The boy followed my instructions hesitatingly, but I was in no hurry. When he was in position I stepped up to him and said, "I am just going to fold your shirt back." I fitted the action to the words to reveal a bottom which, if it were a maths exercise, would have got ten out of ten. It was perfectly presented and did not need adjustment. I then picked up the cane from the desk and took up my position. "You will get eight strokes," I announced.
I laid the cane on the boys bottom, drew it back and brought it down hard on the smooth round target. The boys head jerked up, but he kept hold of the edge of the desk. I continued, each time laying the cane across the bottom before I whipped it down. Each stroke brought a different reaction from the boy. Sometimes he thrust his bottom up; sometimes he sort of sagged. After the fifth stroke he pleaded, "Please sir, no more! Ive learnt my lesson."
I replied, "Sorry Norton. Eight strokes I promised you and eight strokes it will be."
I completed the punishment increasing the strength of the strokes perceptibly. The boys cheeks bore eight parallel red lines, a most satisfying sight for a mathematician. I informed Norton that he could stand up. He did so after a moments hesitation. Being a polite boy he said, "Thank you sir. I hope I shall never disappoint you again."
As he was a little distressed, I helped him pull up his clothes. Apart from the plea to stop, he had taken the punishment well and I told him so. I opened the door and he left.
As I left the school shortly afterwards I overheard a conversation between two of Nortons classmates:
"Fancy Norton getting whacked."
"Got it on the bare arse."
"No?! How do you know?"
"Greene heard him tell Lancing."
"What about Lancing?"
"Apparently not. Got two strokes less as well"
"Thats a bit unfair."
"Old Pyth-----s said that Nortons action was worse than Lancings."
"I dont get that."
"Elementary, my dear Watson. Pyth-----s would have argued that: (a) Norton let Lancing copy from his book (b) Norton was guilty of the sin of pride by the mere fact of allowing Lancing to copy and therefore demonstrating his intellectual superiority (c) Norton encouraged Lancing in his sloth and (d) if Norton had not let Lancing copy, it is axiomatic that Norton would not have copied, but he did and must therefore bear some of the responsibilty for Lancings copying. The alternative argument that Lancing was more guilty than Norton, because the former led the latter astray would not have been attractive to Pyth-----s."
"Why?"
"Because he wanted to see Nortons bum, but wasnt bothered about seeing Lancings."
That evening I met one of my colleagues, Jones, in the pub. We always swapped stories about the canings we meted out. He was green with envy that I had found a legitimate reason to cane Norton, who had been regarded as an untouchable.
"You should have let me watch," he said.
"You know the rules," I replied.
I described the perfection of Nortons bottom and gave him chapter and verse on the beating.
"I would have hesitated to wallop his bare arse for a first offence," said Jones.
"I felt I had to take advantage of a unique opportunity," I replied.
He laughed and bought another round, my second unique experience that day.
The next morning the headmaster invited me into his study. I was concerned that perhaps Nortons father had complained. However, the head was all smiles and revealed a side of his character unknown to me. "Congratulations!" he exclaimed. "I hear you found a good reason to beat Norton. He is an insufferably boring boy, just as his father was. I longed to thrash a sense of humour into Norton Senior. Never found cause, alas, never found cause." The head sighed and shook his head. "Even prettier than his son. Dont get me wrong, I like my boys well behaved, but I like to see a bit of cheekiness there. Dont want them all becoming chartered accountants, not that I would say that to one or two of the governors. Whacked his bare bum too! [I wondered how the head knew this.] Bet that got his circulation going and put a spring into his step! Wish Id seen it! Wish Id seen it! Lets hope youve put a bit of a spark in the boy. Never know, he might break a window and let me have a crack at him. Have a glass of sherry young man."