This is the story of a school-boy, attending a prestigious private boarding school, one with a strict code of acedemic and sporting dicipline.
This lad was 16, in a key year for his on-going education. He was well behaved, courteous and popular with his fellow students, and the teaching staff. He was a talented sportsman - and had grown into a strapping young man of six foot tall, with broad sholders and a slender waist, full of the lusty bloom of youthful health. His name - Brendan Sherman.
Brendan was a diligent student, but was not always successful. He was a bright student of science and maths, and always managed excellent grades. This boy wanted to go onto to University to study medicine. His weakness was English - most particularly , it's spelling.
Unfortunately - he needed to pass the English exam to have a chance of getting into the course he wanted . At the time our story begins - this was looking unlikely.
The school faculty were worried about him . They wanted to see this excellent lad get on in life - and they hated to see one subject undermine all his hard work. The schools' acedemic committe discussed his case, and decided on a course of action. They sought and got Brendan's parents approval of their plan.
And so, one afternoon, Bredan was surprised when a Prefect put his head around his class-room door and said: "Sherman - the Head wants to see you, now"
Brendan looked up in surpirse, and at his teacher's nod, he stood and walked out of the room. He made his way down to corridors to the Headmaster's study. He always got worried when he walked into this room, as it always evoked that memorable occasion, a couple of years earlier , when the Head had beaten him with the cane, for being repeatedly impertinent. But, he knew that he wouldn't get caned this day - as he'd done nothing wrong.
He knocked on the door.
"Come in" came the reply.
Brendan Sherman opened the door, saying "You wanted t see me sir ?"
"Ah Sherman, come in and have a seat" said the Headmaster affably.
"Thank-you sir " replied the boy.
"How've you been ?" asked the Head.
"Fine thanks sir"
"How're you doing in classes ?"
"OK, I think" said Sherman, a little nervously.
"Hmm, " mused the Head, " quite a bit better than OK in everything but English where I think you are far from OK"
"Yes sir" agreed the lad.
"You need to improve your results Brendan, or you won't get the entrance scores you need for Medicine"
"Yes sir" agreed Brendan again, looking at his toes nervously.
"So, we need to do something about it" barked the Headmaster.
"I'm doing my best sir !" protested the lad.
"I know, I know " soothed the Headmaster "that's why the school acedemic committee has recommended to your parents that you receive special help - and they have consented."
"Special help sir ?" asked Sherman.
"Yes - we are putting you in the special tutorials programme".
This bland pronouncement sent a chill down Brendan's spine. He'd heard lots of locker room stories of "special tutorials" - in which you were beaten for bad results. It was an extreme way to incentivise a boy to dramatically improve his results. It was looking like he might be feeling the wrong end of a cane again .
The Head told him to report to Mr McWillians for his first tutorial - after sports practice this afternoon. Brendan gulped "Yes sir", and was promptly excused, and returned to class.
In the break between lessons his friends grilled him about what the Headmaster had wanted. He told them - and he soon found himself the object of much amusement as they made swishing, and whacking noises, and kept trying to kick him in the backside. He tried maintaing his good humour- but he was getting really worried by the end of classes, as he headed for the lockers.
Bill Fredricks - his best friend, jogged up bedide him , and walked with him towards the changing rooms.
"How's it going ?" Bill asked
"OK I guess ..." moped Brendan
"You reckon that you're in for a thrashing ?"
"God - your real diplomatic mate !" smiled Brendan.
"Sorry" conceded his friend, "I just have a strange way of cheering you up"
They walked on in silence for a while, until Brendan said "The answer is yes, by the way - I do think I'm getting a thrashing". He tried to smile bravely for his friend, but didn't quite succeed.
Bill looked at his friend in sympathy, putting his hand on Brendan's shoulder and said "Look you'll be OK - you can handle it. You've had stripes before"
Brendan sighed "Oh God don't remind me about last time I got caned - that was only four strokes with a junior cane, and I nearly burst into tears after the first stroke."
Before Bill could reply a couple of guys ran past - swatting Brendan's backside saying "Ready to get your botty smacked" and laughing. Brendan just sighed - and made his way into the sports building.
All throughout the afternoon's training session - he had to endure much mirth by his team mates, at his misfortune at being enrolled in Special Tutorials. He endured numerous whacked to his bum, and a few kicks as well, and so was feeling quite sore by the ned of training. He then had to endure much hilarity as they showered and got changed, as he was flicked with wet towels. Most of the guys took much entertainment at his predicament as Brendan had always been "Mr Perfect" - and they enjoyed seeing him being taken down a couple of pegs.
And so Brendan soon found himself again in his tight school uniform trousers, and trudging over to the acedemic buildings. He was running late, and so tucking his uniform shirt in, as he walked into the appointed class-room. There were two other lads in there, as well as Mr McWilliams.
"Get in here Sherman - so we can get started".
"Sir !"
"OK boys, as Mr Sherman has joined us, we'll start the session with a test. As usual you are required to received at least 85% score," said Mr McWilliams, " You'll get a couple of strokes of the cane for each wrong answer above the allowed limit- up to a maximum of 18 strokes"
Everyone pulled out their pads, and Mr McWilliams read out 50 words, and Brendan and the others struggled to spell them properly. Finally Mr McWilliams told us to swap papers, and proceded to go through the whole list and spellng them. Brendan knew imediatly he'd got more than 8 wrong - and so would get his butt flayed. He was mortified that Jamie Freeman (one of the thicker boys in the school) whose paper he was marking, was getting more right than he did.
Eventually the boys all handed their papers back to one another. Mr McWilliams then asked them each to stand-up and say how many right they had got.
First came Freeman: "36 sir"
"So, that's 6 less than the limit", said Mr McWilliams "So you'll take 12 strokes".
Second was Frank Twinn: "44 sir"
"Well done Twinn - you won't get beaten today" said the Master "one more day with scores this good, and you'l be done with Tutorials".
Twinn grinned "Thank-you sir"
Third and finally was Brendan Sherman "Umm 30 sir"
"Good lord boy that's appauling - you'll get the maximum 18 strokes, and because you've done so badly, I'll use the Headmasters' cane on you"
Brendan was more scared than ever. He couldn't believe that Mr McWilliams was so angry, and he was not looking forward to such an extreme punishment.
"Ok Sherman - get your backside up here, we'll do you first".
Brendan sighed deeply and walked up to the front of the room. The other two boys grinned at each other - feeling quite priviledged to wittness Sherman's beating of a lifetime.
"Get over the desk" said Mr McWilliams. Brendan bent over the desk, and grabbed the ckalk rest under the blackboard. His trousers stretched tightly over his bum, as he strteched across the table. His shirt-tale came out of the top of his trousers. Mr McWilliams watched the strapping great lad get his muscular backside into position . He'd really be able to lay into this one !
The teacher turned to the cupbaord and pulled out the big cane, and swished and flexed it around melodramatically.
He turned to Brendan's perfectly poised backside, and tapped the cane a couple of times in order to line up properly. "Now count !" he barked.
He drew the cane back and WHACKED it into Brendan's bum.
"Oowww, that's one" yelped Brendan who was gasping with the unexpected pain.
McWilliams drew back for a second stroke and thwached it into the boy's bum.
"That's two" said Brendon - now more under control .
So the caning continued. After 8 strokes, Brendan started squirming with pain and yelped with each stroke (so Frank Twinn was told to hold him down).
At the twelth stroke, Brendan started stuttering with the pain - as tears began to drip down his face, and after two more he was howling at each stroke and crying openly. He felt completely humiliated as the eighteenth stroke landed.
"Now stand" barked Mr McWilliams " and put your hands on your head".
The big lad stood slowly, redfaced and teary eyed. He dripped with sweat, and his shirt was hanging out. He went and stood in the corner as directed, and sniffled.
Freeman was next to be summoned, and ordered to stretch over the table. McWilliams pulled out a thinner cane and flexed it. Brendan was somewhat shamed by the quiet way in which Jamie took his strokes. He counted firmly and without yelping or crying his full 12 strokes.
Freeman was also directed to stand in the corner alongside Brendan. The two boys waited while Mr McWilliams filled out their punishment cards - which they were told the present to their Housemaster. Brendan was worried what his Housemaster would say, or rather do, to him when he heard of this dicipline.
Having been handed his punishment card - he sat back down, painfully, and the lesson part of the tutorial began.
Brendan saw his future looked very bleak indeed.
To be continued ...