My fourth caning of the second year was in a chemistry lesson being taught by Mr B. He was in his 50s and a stickler for safety. During the lesson I was mucking around and spilt some acid. Mr B noticed immediately and told me to clean it up. He also told me how to do so safely.

When I had completed the clean up he told me I should not be mucking around in a chemistry lab and I was to be punished for it. He told me to remove my lab coat and report to the office for the book and cane. I duly reported to the secretary who smiled and handed them over. It was a long walk to the science block and I finally entered the lab.

Mr B had finished the experiments by now and the class were all sat on stools. I handed him the cane and book. I watched as he wrote my details in the book. He then picked up the cane and told me to bend over and touch my toes at the front of the class. This was not easy for a tall boy like me but I managed to achieve a position he was satisfied with eventually. Mr B then stood alongside me.

I felt the cane touch my bottom and shortly after it cracked down hard. I struggled to stay still due to the force used. Mr B repeated the dose even harder with the second stroke. I found staying in position very hard and would have preferred to have bent over a chair or desk. Mr B then administered the third stroke which I greeted with a cry of pain. Tears were starting to roll by now. Mr B then lifted his cane and delivered a really hard and low stroke making me stumble forward. I cried as it hit.

To my relief he then walked away and announced to the class that any future mucking around in his lessons would get the same. I was told to stand and he handed me the book and cane to return. I took them back to the office and the secretary offered me a tissue to wipe my eyes. I returned to the lab just as the bell rang for the end of lesson. I never played around in a chemistry lesson again. Lesson learnt the hard way.

PLa