The third year at Grammar school is best described as a disaster for me. I was thirteen at the start and turned fourteen a few weeks into the first term. I was a true hormone charged teenager and it showed. The accounts below are as I remember it though the names are changed. The descriptions of the teachers are accurate as I kept a diary and recorded the details.

My first caning was in the very first week of the year. I was in a Latin lesson with a new teacher. Miss Harvey was newly qualified and determined to start as she meant to go on. She gave us a test to see the level of our knowledge. I was struggling with Latin so decided to cheat and had my text book with the answers hidden under my desk. All was going well until the book slipped and landed on the floor.

Miss Harvey noticed and told everyone to stand up. A couple more books slipped as the class stood up. Miss Harvey told all three of us to stand silently until everyone had finished. She collected in the answers and then told everyone that the three cheats had scored no marks and would now be punished in front of the class. We were called to the front; there were two boys and one girl.

Miss Harvey lined us up against one wall while she arranged space for us to bend over her desk. Then she walked to the cupboard and returned with the cane and punishment book. Miss Harvey was short, slim, short ginger hair, in her very early twenties and wearing a blue loose-flowing dress with black high heeled shoes. She called the girl forward and told her to bend over the end of the desk and grasp the sides.

I was fascinated as the girl got four hard strokes on her tight grey skirt. She was red-faced and in tears at the end. She was told to return to her seat and winced as she sat down.

Next, I was summoned forward and told to assume the same position. I tensed as Miss Harvey lined the cane up. It swished down and cracked on my bottom very hard. She might have been small but she could handle her cane. I gulped as the pain arrived. The second stroke was equally hard and took my breath away. The pain was so intense. Miss Harvey continued and the third stroke soon bit into my bottom. I could feel tears welling up by now. The fourth stroke was extra hard and low down. It was the most intense and I felt tears roll down my cheeks.

I was then told to resume my seat. I winced as I sat down, it was so uncomfortable.

The second boy then got his four strokes but he was rather louder when receiving his punishment. Miss Harvey then said that anyone who stepped out of line could expect the same treatment. She then set us some homework while she completed the punishment book.

Later in the term, I accumulated three detentions and got a repeat visit to the Headmaster, Mr Stevens. This time he used a longer thicker cane and it was even more painful. Mr Stevens reminded me about the detention rules before dismissing me.

A few weeks later, I got a slippering from the PE Master. We were in the gym and I started showing off to the class. Mr Green told me off once but I continued. ‘Once an idiot always an idiot’ comes to mind. Anyway he got fed up and told me to stand by the gym horse.

I watched as he went to his room and returned with a large black plimsoll. I was told to bend over the horse and waited. Thin white PE shorts do not offer much protection. Mr Green was in his thirties, tall, slim, brown hair and wearing polo shirt top and shorts. He approached and lined up his slipper. Before I knew it, he whacked my bottom hard, taking my breath away. He continued and the second whack hit almost on top of the first. It was very hard and I gasped as the pain arrived. He then lined up number three with the same result. Tears were welling up now but thankfully he told me to get off the horse. He told me to do ten press ups while he put his plimsoll by the door.

Boy, did I get teased in the showers with the bright red sole print clearly visible.

The next term was slightly better until I got caught running after a girl in the corridor one lunchtime. We got caught by Mrs Broadbent who gave us both a detention. This was my sixth in two terms, so I was due a visit to the Headmaster. I pleaded with her to have lines or even a couple of strokes of the cane. But she was too wise for me and asked if it was three in that term or six in the year. I admitted six in the year, so she told me to follow her and she would cane me instead of the Headmaster.

Mrs Broadbent walked me to her office and we entered. She told me to place a chair in the middle of the room and went to the cupboard. She selected a thick, long crook-handled cane from her rack. She walked back and I was taken by her looks. She was in her forties, short blond hair, tall, slim and wearing a bright red blouse, tight red skirt and red high heeled shoes. She flexed the cane and I was frightened but also excited and aroused as I admired her. She reminded me that she had already caned me previously.

She was soon by the chair and told me to assume the position. I bent over and waited. Mrs Broadbent soon gave me the first stroke. I gripped the chair seat tightly as the pain bit. The second stroke repeated the dose with the same results. I gripped the chair even tighter. Mrs Broadbent continued and stroke three was hard and true. I wriggled as the pain bit but she told me to stay still or else. Stroke four was harder than the others and got me grunting as the pain continued. Number five was low and caught the top of the thighs as well as my lower bottom. Tears welled up by now. I knew where stroke six was going and was not disappointed as it crossed the others diagonally, creating the perfect five bar gate. Tears were running down my cheeks now.

I was told to stand and face her desk as she wrote my name in the punishment book. Mrs Broadbent returned the cane to the cupboard before dismissing me with a reminder I still had the detention to serve. Later that day I was summoned to the Headmaster, Mr Stevens. I guessed he had not been told that Mrs Broadbent had already caned me. I was soon shown in and Mr Stevens told me I had accumulated six detentions that year. I said Mrs Broadbent had already caned me for that. Luckily, he checked with his secretary who found a note from Mrs Broadbent.

I got caned twice more that year from classroom teachers. First I got three strokes from Mr Jackson for not doing my homework because I went to football the previous evening. Mr Jackson was in his thirties, brown hair, wearing a dark jacket and trousers. I knew the risk but decided to take it anyway. He told me to see him at the end of the lesson and offered me a detention or the cane. I chose the cane and was surprised to only get three strokes. Overall it was worth the caning to go to football.

The second was from Miss Harvey in a Latin lesson. She bent over to pick up the chalk she had dropped. She was dressed in a tight figure-hugging dress at the time and my teenage hormones came to the fore. I stupidly wolf-whistled.

She turned round and asked who had done it. I tried not to own up but she threatened to cane the whole class and several eyes looked my way. She asked if it was me and I admitted it. I was told to see her at the end of the day. The wait was agony as the incident occurred in the first lesson.

At the end of the day, I went to her classroom. Miss Harvey was sat at the desk and the cane was on her desk. She looked so good in her figure-hugging dress and high heeled shoes. I removed my blazer without being asked. She had placed a chair in place ready.

She stood up and I bent over the chair ready. Miss Harvey walked to my side and the cane soon touched. The first stroke was hard and central, with the pain soon following. Miss Harvey continued and the second stroke swished down soon after. The pain was intense. How can such a short slim lady cane so hard? The third stroke swished hard and true, making the pain even more intense. I had forgotten how hard she caned and tears were starting. Miss Harvey soon brought her cane back again. It swished before cracking on my bottom. That was it, tears rolled and I grunted loudly. Number five was very hard and low. Tears rolled as my bottom burnt. As expected, number six crossed the other five and I yelped as the pain burnt. She walked away and told me to stand.

I watched as she smiled while she completed the punishment book. She told me she did not expect to be whistled at in school and any future similar behaviour would mean a visit to the Headmaster. I apologised profusely before being dismissed. I vowed to only admire the lady teachers in future and not to embarrass them with my actions.

This was the second time my appreciation of lady teachers had got me caned. Both well deserved and I was lucky they caned me rather than the Headmaster. So my record that year was: Four strokes of cane for cheating. Six strokes of cane for three detentions. Three whacks of slipper for messing about in PE. Six strokes of cane for six detentions in a year. Three strokes of cane for not doing homework. Six strokes of cane for wolf whistling a teacher. A total of twenty-five strokes of the cane in five separate occasions and three whacks of the slipper on one other occasion. It had been a bad year but things did improve in future years thankfully.

NN