Joanna was a lovely girl, sparkling personality, very caring, and a really great friend. Against all that, from the school’s point of view she was impulsive, forgetful, and the Headmistress’s daughter. Of course, everybody thought when she arrived that she was bound to be every teacher’s pet, not one of them wanting to upset or offend her mother. It made it a bit difficult, too, for Joanna because she didn’t want to be a teacher’s pet or the perfect pupil. So she developed a rebellious streak, mainly little things, nothing serious, just to prove she was not the angel she

So here I was, early in my fourth year at the school, standing, facing what we all call the spanking desk, the spare desk at the front of the classroom used for that very purpose, affording a good view of proceedings for the rest of the class, mainly as a deterrent for any other would-be wrong-doers. It also allowed the student a little privacy in that she does not have to show the class the pain and distress on her face during the punishment. It is enough for them to see the impact the slipper has at reasonable force on

I was a skinny boy with reddish hair, and at fourteen my voice hadn’t even started breaking yet, so I was behind the eight ball when it came to fitting in at my local high school, Newquay County Grammar, a coeducational school. I was no good at football or cricket either, though I was quite good at athletics and cross country running. I had a couple of friends, but in reality I was a bit of a loner. Girls weren’t interested in a skinny red-headed boy who sounded like an eleven year old. Or that’s what one of the girls

I’d like to share a few real life experiences of mine. During my MBA days, I used to tease girls a lot and act cool. In spite of repeated requests from the girls, I never used to listen. One of my favourite targets was my batch-mate in MBA. One day, as usual, I pulled her hair. She never used to get angry, but that day got wild at me. Unfortunately for me that day, she was carrying an umbrella with a long and sharp tip at the end. She started chasing me wildly. I tried to escape, but I slipped

At the grammar school I attended, the cane was sometimes administered to the palms of the hands, and it really used to sting. The first time I got the cane at school, as I described in an earlier account entitled ‘A Boy’s First School Caning at a South East England School’, I got it across my hands. I would now like to relate the events that led to my second school caning which occurred within two weeks of my first caning. In many ways, the second time that I got the cane was related to an incident which, I think,

At my Junior School in the English Midlands, at around the mid-1960s, punishments by the predominately female teachers involved slapping of the wrists or legs. Serious offences would result in the cane, administered by the Headmaster, Mr P, a tall, authoritarian gentleman around 60-years-old who always wore a grey suit, and, although not the terrifying character so associated with head teachers of that era, he certainly instilled a certain amount of fear and commanded respect. Caning involved two strokes across the palm of the hand, always in the privacy of his office. A notable deviation from this came when I

My particular memory is from an incident that occurred at my school when I was a 16-year-old fifth form schoolgirl. Along with three other girls, we got into trouble for repeatedly skipping lessons and spending time in town when we should have been studying for our exams. We were all warned several times of the consequences, but foolishly chose to ignore the warnings. Inevitably, we crossed the line and took our antics a step too far, thinking we would always get away with just being told off or, at worst, a detention. We were all caught red-handed in a coffee

Lunchtime at my small prep school in Surrey UK was very much traditional in style back in the 1970s with a hall and long trestle tables on which 80 or so boys and a handful of girls sat and had their lunch. Teachers ate elsewhere but a couple of them supervised, taking it turns. I, aged 8, sat at the end of the middle table near the raised platform on which the staff sat during assemblies. Everyone was eating their puddings when a boy next to me started an argument with the boy opposite and some kicking went on under

I was not exactly the brightest pupil at school. I struggled academically, although I was good at sport, especially rugby union. I left my junior school and joined one of the new comprehensive schools that were being developed to replace the secondary-moderns in the West Midlands in the late 1950s. I was placed in set 5, for those pupils of lowest ability which was a small class of 18 pupils, 13 boys and 5 girls. Nowadays, we would be referred to as having learning difficulties. Fair to say, our level of naughtiness was proportionally higher than the rest of the

My experience takes me back to 1970, as a 13-year-old in the early days at a boys secondary school in the English Midlands. Discipline was generally carried out by individual teachers to address any misbehaviour in class, and normally involved being called to the front of the class, ordered to touch toes, and given a single hefty whack with a gym pump, known among all pupils as ‘Getting the Whack’. More general or serious offences involved a visit to the Deputy Headmaster, where, ironically, punishments were along the lines of the above single whack, sometimes two, so not that much