Charlie and I have been best friends since kindergarden. Growing up we were always together -- which meant we usually got into trouble together! We were a team -- parners in prankish crimes. It wasn't long into our kindergarden year when we had our first inroduction to getting paddled in school. So, here's the story of the first application of the board of education to our seats of knowledge.

Our first offense was minor; but in a fundamentalist christian school, any infraction brought swift and sure discipline -- usually in the form of corporal punishment. The minimum punishment in kindergarden was three swats with a wooden paddle; it could go up to five swats, as Charlie and I discovered throughout the school-year. (From fourth grade through eighth, it was 10 swats with a much heavier, hole-drilled wooden paddle. We discovered that later, too).

It was nap time, just after the lunch recess. Our teacher, Mr. Rogers, had yelled at us during recess for going off the playground and into the surrounding wooded area. He gave us each a demerit for breaking that school rule. Not deterred by the scolding or the demerit, Charlie and I were on our "nap mats" whispering to eachother our plan to explore the woods again tomorrow at recess.

Mr. Rogers was out in the hallway talking to another teacher, so we didn't think it would be any problem for us to make our plans. What we didn't realize was that he had walked back into the classroom of napping children and clearly heard us. Not only were we talking during nap time (an infraction in and of itself), but we had the nerve to plan to break the same rule that he had just talked to us about. She immediately walked over to us. My heart started pounding . I looked at Charlie, who was obviously nervous, too.

"You two are just asking for it! Aren't you?," he said, as he stood over. "I want you both to come out in the hall with me," he commanded.

Charlie and I started to get up and put on our shoes, which we had taken off before nap time.

"No need to put your shoes on. You're not going far," he said to us as she reached in her cupboard and pulled out long, thin wooden paddle. "Let's go out into the hallway," he said to us as we looked at the wooden torture implement in his strong, firm hand.

As we walked out of the classroom, some of the other kids started to snicker. "Any one who thinks this is funny is welcome to join us out in the hall," Mr. Rogers said as a hush fell over the classroom.

I felt the eyes of about 28 other students burning into my back as I followed Charlie and Mr. Rogers out into the hall. When we passed into the hall, I felt the cold hallway floor under my stocking feet. I looked at Charlie, who, behind Mr. Rogers back, flashed me a "cool" smile. His smile seemed to say: "Hang in there. We can take this!"

Since it was the first time either one of us had been in this predicament at school, we weren't quite sure what to do. Mr. Rogers started to lecture us about the importance of adhering to rules and being good citizens. His anger showed in his voice when he scolded us about planning to break the same rule he had just given us demerits for.

"You boys have to learn to behave and I'm going to help you learn. Hopefully, this lesson won't have to be repeated!" he said sternly. (But of course it was repeated on numerous occassions -- with Mr. Rogers and many other faculty).

Then, the moment of truth; the moment that first tested our ability to "take it like men!" Mr. Rogers took Charlie by the arm and said: "Come over here. Bend over and grab your ankles. You're going to get three swats. I want you to stay bent over until I tell you to get up. If you get up before I tell you, you'll get an extra swat!"

Charlie had assumed the position. I looked at him bent over, his hands around his ankles. His sock feet were spread apart and the seat of his black, school- uniform pants were streched tight over his ass. He was prepared for his punishment.

I thought that he was going to get his first, but then Mr. Rogers took me by the arm and moved me over right next to my bent-over buddy. "Now, you bend over and grab your ankles," he said to me.

Now, my heart was really pounding. I looked over a Charlie and he flashed me one of those smiles again, but this time it seemed to be a little less forceful; a little less assured. But none the less, he smiled and gave me a boost of courage!

"Look straight ahead," Mr. Rogers commanded!

I heard her move behind me. Through the corner of my eye, it looked like she had placed her hand on Charlie's back -- AND CRACK! I heard the first swat and felt Charlie jar at the sound of the impact. Looking down I saw through his black nylon, school -boy socks, that he had raised his toes. I looked at his face and saw him grimacing in pain, but my best buddy didn't have a tear in his eye.

WHACK!! I heard the second swat! And -- WHACK!!! I heard the third land on my buddy's stinging ass. It sounded like the swats became harder as Mr. Rogers delivered them.

As I quickly found out, I was correct. The intensity of the swats did in fact increase! I, bending over next to my buddy, took my three.

With our asses burning, still in the "assumed position," neither of us had shed a tear! Mr. Rogers told us to get up. "I hope you've learned your lesson," he stated firmly.

As we walked back into the classroom behind Mr. Rogers, Charlie smiled at me again. This time he whispered: "We took it like men!"

Mr. Rogers turned around and asked: "Did you say something?"

"No SIR," we both replied!