Excellent questions; I shall endeavor to provide useful answers.
"I argued that teachers who perhaps enjoyed certain aspects of their duties a little more than was publicly acceptable were very rare, if not actually non-existent."
I think pure statistics make a convincing case that at least some teachers must have done what I did. Sexual interest in spanking is hardly a new thing, and corporal punishment in schools was widespread enough in times past to make it very difficult to believe that the two never intersected.
"I'm surprised that the school didn't have a requirement for a witness to paddlings. However you've said what the rules were, and that wasn't a requirement."
I never really thought about it at the time; I don't know how unusual it was, since I never worked at another school with corporal punishment. The official rules stated that paddlings were to be carried out "in private", which was generally interpreted as excluding other students but not necessarily administrators and staff. The main reason for having a witness is to verify that no misconduct is taking place; in retrospect I think witnesses are a good policy, but at the time, there was very little thought of sexual
misconduct. If there was concern, it was that the paddling would be overly severe. I gather the board decided that performing a physical check in the unlikely event of a complaint was easier than requiring witnesses.
"But did you ever have instances where, for whatever reason, you thought a witness was necessary?"
Not really. On one or two occasions another staff member was in the room when class ended, but I generally requested that he or she leave - the students appreciated it, and it gave me more freedom to stare etc. when no one was looking. There was one instance where a girl asked if her friend could stay for emotional support, which I granted - I figured it wasn't breaking the privacy rule because she had requested it. (Aside from my desire to appear reasonable and fair, she looked about ready to have a nervous breakdown, and I didn't really want to have to handle that.)
"Again, not mentioned in your account of the school's CP rules, but did the use of the paddle have to be formally recorded in any school documentation, student records etc.?"
Yes and no. I don't believe there was actually an official policy, but there were certain offenses that required parental notification (such as dress code violations), so everyone generally informed the principal after an incident. I am unaware if there was a centralized recording system for disciplinary issues.
I, however, did maintain a fairly comprehensive journal of paddlings, which I have kept to this day. It's somewhere buried in a box in my garage, but I keep meaning to pull it out and have a look again.
"As such punishments must have taken a few minutes at least, wasn't there a risk that the student would be late for their next class, and thus get into further trouble? To say nothing of on exiting having to run the gauntlet of the jibes of your next class lined up outside waiting for admission, who would presumably have overheard at least the paddling, if not the preceding discussion."
This was a minor issue, but one that did not concern me especially (actually, I was somewhat excited by some such scenarios.) The school had an eight-minute gap between periods, unlike most others I have been at, which have a five-minute gap. Most students didn't show up until two or three minutes before the bell, so that left me with a good four or five minutes before they started gathering outside the door. Even then, the noise levels in the halls probably obscured any sound except for the actual swats; I generally kept my voice fairly low. I liked to give the girls time to compose themselves afterwards, however, so plenty of them wound up having to walk red-eyed past a few people on their way out. I'm sure this was embarrassing.
The school was also built to allow for expansion, so not all of the available classrooms were occupied every period. I had the luck to get an "odd room out" for at least one period most years, so for some of my paddlings I didn't have to worry about students gathering.
Due to the length of the period gap I didn't have much trouble with students running late. On one instance the girl took particularly long to compose herself and left just as the bell rang, but my room was empty next period, so she just got to class a little late. (I didn't find out if any action was taken.) On another occasion a girl came into my class two minutes late, looking like she had been crying; I asked her to stay after, and she said she'd been paddled the period before. I told her not to worry and gave her a single token swat. (She didn't really deserve it, and I wouldn't even consider giving someone two full paddlings in a day, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to swat her on her already-sore behind.)
"Were there any occasions when, perhaps because of such class timing problems, or the particular circumstances of the offence, you paddled students in front of the class?"
"Did you ever find yourself with multiple offenders to be paddled after a class, and if so did you deal with them all together, or send them out to be called in individually?"
This happened a number of times; I would have them wait in the hall and call them in individually. If it was more than about three people, I would ask them to see me after school rather than rushing through them or delaying class. This happened several times.
"You've said that you were permitted to administer up to six swats. Was this a very rare event?"
For boys, yes; for girls, no. I admit that I was not entirely equal in my sentences. I admit that I was not always entirely gender-neutral in my sentencing. Boys only really got six swats for something very serious, or if I was paddling them with a girl and really wanted to give the girl six; girls tended to got six for anything that I could justifiably call
"very serious." This meant that getting six swats was not typical, but definitely a strong possibility.
"Did you operate a system of upping the ante for repeat paddlings, if any?"
Not formally, but there was an expectation that repeat offenders would be treated more severely. Mainly I used this as an excuse to increase the number of swats, especially for minor dress code violations. If I could catch them out several times in a few weeks I could justifiably give four or five swats.
"One hears stories of penalty swats for students not remaining in position until sentence was complete, unacceptable language in response to swats etc. Did you use any penalty system for student lapses during punishment?"
Again, not formally, but I certainly did add swats on occasion. If I thought a swat landed badly, I might say "sorry, that one didn't count" and repeat it. If the girl was being uncooperative I might threaten to add swats. I mentioned above that I was limited to six "official" swats, but there was some leeway in deciding what swats counted, so in theory I could - and, a handful of times, did - exceed that total.
My most common reason for adding swats was getting out of position. Quite a few girls would reach back and rub. I secretly rather enjoyed this, especially if they knew they weren't supposed to and just couldn't help it. On the first reach-around I would let them rub for a moment and then warn that, if they did it again, the swat wouldn't count. Most girls complied, but I did manage to get in a a few extra swats that way. (I suppose I could have not counted the first one as well, but that seemed a bit unfair, and I wanted to keep up my nice-guy image.)
Here's the paddle (assuming the link works.) Unfortunately my camera seems to equate "low resolution" with "way too compressed", and I couldn't figure out how to change it, but you should be able to get a general idea.
As there seems to be interest, perhaps now would be a good time to relate the tale of the delayed paddling I mentioned above.
"Errm, those 'attractive gym shorts', they weren't by any chance bottle green were they?"
Hah, no, they were pale blue, as best as I can recall.
The account that follows is presented in a somewhat dramatized form. This is partly because the incident is very vivid in my memory, and I can remember many small details, but mainly because I think telling the story this way better illustrates my perceptions of the incident. This dramatization necessarily requires a little fudging where my memory is unclear, but I've tried to keep the flow of events and emotions as accurate as possible. (For example, I'm a little uncertain exactly which strokes she reached back after, but I've portrayed my best guess.) A lot of the paddlings sort of blur together in my mind, leaving me uncertain what happened when I was paddling which student, but this one is crystal clear for the most part.
About two-thirds of the way through my time at the school, I was teaching a tenth-grade literature class in which there was one girl I found extremely attractive. (For our Commonwealth friends, tenth grade is in fifth form, if I'm understanding correctly; I believe she was 15 at the time.) She was fairly lightly built, with rounded cheekbones and an incredibly cute smile. She actually looked almost exactly like how that girl from Little Miss Sunshine
looks now (http://tinyurl.com/d7s9vbj
), but a little thinner and blonder. Her name was beautiful, too - it rolled off the tongue in a very pleasing way - but I obviously can't share it here.
The moment I first saw her I thought, *That is one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen.* Not only was she physically attractive, she was a perfect student. She was sweet and quiet, never late or causing any trouble. She aced most of my quizzes, actually did the readings, and always had interesting things to say about the material. For the rest of the year I felt like my inner desires were fighting with each other. On the one hand, I loved having her around, and I always did my best to ensure that she was happy and successful. She respected me and on occasion asked my advice regarding her studies (and, along the way, sometimes her social life.) On the other hand, as the year dragged on, I was increasingly obsessed with a desire to paddle her. The strength of this impulse was almost frightening in retrospect. Yet, my desires were thwarted: I could find literally no fault with her. I was tempted many times to just make up some pretext to bend her over and give her the paddling of her life, but my conscience got the better of me. She really was a sweet girl, and I didn't want to destroy the trust I had established.
The end of the year approached and I had still not had an opportunity. I still thought about it frequently, but I was increasingly accepting that it would never happen. Then, one Thursday, I was supervising a short in-class essay assignment when I noticed her surreptitiously slip something to her friend sitting in the next row of desks over. Her friend smiled a slightly triumphant smile... not a good smile. The girl herself looked a bit scared. She looked quickly at me, we made eye contact, and she went pale.
My heart jumped suddenly. *This could turn out well...* I remember thinking to myself. Passing notes generally prohibited. I got up quietly and went over to her. She was visibly trembling as I retrieved and pocketed the note. "See me after class," I said quietly and returned to my desk, heart racing.
A note was only worth two swats at most - it was really only banned because it was a distraction - but based on the girl's reaction I had a hunch that something else was up. I sat down, pulled out the note, and opened it up.
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but what I found was something altogether different. The note began: "(boy's name) is a ---". The rest of the note consisted of a single unbroken string of exceptionally foul obscenities, ending with "--- and somebody should just kill him." I was simultaneously elated and confused. Elated, because the contents of this note could warrant quite a paddling indeed. Confused, because... why did it even exist? I had never heard so much as a "well gosh darn it" from this girl's lips. As far as I knew, she barely knew the boy, and I saw no motive to write such a thing and pass it to her friend. The whole situation just didn't make sense.
Nevertheless, I couldn't believe my luck. I was finally going to get to paddle the girl of my dreams, and pretty soundly at that. I watched her sulk for the rest of the class with some enjoyment. Finally, the end of class came, and everyone else filed out. Her friend gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she left, but it didn't seem to help much. I went over and sat down next to her.
"Why did you write that note?" I asked.
"It was a dare," she replied. That explained some things, but I was still confused.
The whole situation turned out to be rather silly. Her friend - who was considerably less reputable than her - apparently couldn't believe that she had never
broken any of the rules. Finally her friend laid down a dare: write the nastiest note possible and pass it to her when I wasn't looking. She didn't want to, but finally she gave in. (Peer pressure can be incredibly powerful, as anyone who was ever in high school themselves can verify.) Really, in retrospect, the fact that I got to paddle her at all was a complete fluke.
"Was that a good idea?" I asked.
"No," she said, starting to cry.
"This is a very serious matter," I said. Almost all the words on the slip were banned on school grounds, and it could also be interpreted as inciting violence against the boy in question. "I'm going to have to paddle you." I waited to see her reaction before I continued. "However, I can't do it now, because it wouldn't really be safe with the studs on your jeans. I'll do it some other day when you're wearing something more appropriate." The girl thanked me profusely, dried her tears, and ran to her next class.
I had a hunch she would come back wearing the same jeans the next day (hah!), and I was right. That didn't bother me, however; I knew I could hold off as long as I wanted to. I actually took a rather perverted delight in the worry I was causing her, imagining her thinking about what she had in store. It gave me a feeling of incredible power to know that, at any moment, I might call her out and blister her behind. I rather liked the sensation; I decided that I might as well wait until she was wearing something that suited me.
That was Friday. Over the weekend I thought about the paddling a lot, coming up with lots of ideas to try. (I rejected most of them, but a few I kept.) On Monday, she came into class wearing regular jeans, without studs; I could have carried out the paddling then, but instead I decided to hold off. I intentionally ignored her so she would think I had forgotten the incident.
Tuesday was a gorgeous spring day. The weather was getting rather hot, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood - most of all me. The moment the girl walked into class I knew it was the day. Her hair was tied back and she was wearing a pair of very attractive pale blue gym shorts, the type that fit her form neatly but weren't skintight. As she walked into class I called her over. "Can you come see me here after your last class?" I said. She nodded politely but looked more than a little nervous.
School ended, the classroom emptied, and the girl walked in timidly, right on time as usual. (I had asked her to come after school, rather than after class, because I wanted the freedom to take longer.) "Sit down," I said as kindly as I could, gesturing to a chair. She put her books down and I sat down in front of her.
I tried to act very apologetic and understanding, inquiring about her nervousness and nodding reassuringly at her many, many apologies. She had never been paddled before and hadn't really been spanked since she was very young, so she was very scared. (She had actually thrown up in the bathroom the period before, she was so nervous.) "It's a shame your first time has to be such a bad one," I said. Something about this attractive girl trembling in fear really excited me. Finally the conversation came to a close and I said, "all right, stand up and face my desk."
She looked fine, but I casually threw out my standard "pull up your shorts, you look sloppy" just in case. She gave them a quick tug. (I realized at this point she would probably just do whatever I told her to.) I had her bend over the desk, feet spread a bit apart "for stability", and asked her to arch her back a little "to avoid hitting anything I shouldn't." It's hard to describe exactly how thrilling this sight was for me. I was incredibly turned on. Her rear was amazing by itself, but sticking out with legs spread and covered in thin, sheer gym shorts that dug in a little to accentuate its curves, it was stunning. (I must admit that I feel more than a little creepy describing a 15-year-old's buttocks in such glowing detail, but they really were fantastic. Combined with the natural physical attraction I had for her and the sense of power I got by putting her in that position, I honestly thought it was the most beautiful and arousing thing I had ever seen.)
The paddle was still in my desk, so I went around to where her head was, opened the drawer, and took it out. The sight of it hardly helped to improve the tension. I walked back around, placed it on her backside to line it up, and asked quietly: "Ready?"
She took a deep breath. "Yes sir," she said in a small voice.
I pulled the paddle back, swung hard, and landed straight across the fleshy part of her rear with a loud WHAP
. It was a solid hard swing, a fair bit more forceful than usual; I could see the skin of her buttocks ripple underneath her shorts as I struck. The girl let out a muffled shriek and clutched her backside. She kicked her legs and slipped off the desk onto the tiles, where she knelt holding her buttocks and whimpering in pain. (It was a strong reaction, but only natural. She had never been paddled before, and the swat I'd given her - while not brutal
- was really very hard.) I'm ashamed to admit that I felt no sympathy for her, although I pretended to; I was enjoying every moment.
(I have come to the conclusion, by the way, that people really do have very different natural pain sensitivities. The same force stroke will quite literally hurt one person more than another; some of the students I paddled took pretty hard swats with barely a sound, while others could barely handle even light strokes. It's easy to say that some people are just more vocal about their pain than others, but the difference seems to me to be more base than that. This girl was definitely on the sensitive end of the spectrum.)
"Get up and bend over again," I said after a brief interval had passed.
"Please sir..." she whimpered.
"I'm sorry, but rules are rules," I replied. "Get up." She stood up unsteadily, still holding her behind, and slowly bent over the desk. Her breathing was hard and she rubbed her legs together tightly trying to diffuse the pain. Finally she pulled her hands away and gripped the edge of the desk tightly. I could see tears leaking from her eyes.
"If you move again, it doesn't count and I'll have to do it over again," I warned. I placed the paddle against her shorts again and patted them lightly. I noticed she was tensed up. "Don't squeeze your muscles" I said. "It will just make it hurt more." (I have no idea if this is true, but I preferred the way the paddle felt striking natural flesh.) I pulled back and delivered another hard swat straight across the center of her cheeks. She let out a loud "Owwwww...", squirming and panting, but managed to stay in position.
The third swat was too much. She sank to the floor again, clutching her rear end and saying, "No, no, I can't take it... please... it hurts so bad..." Her voice was squeaky and choked through her tears. I got down next to her and put my arm around her shoulders comfortingly until she calmed down somewhat. "I'm sorry," I said, "but rules are rules. Are you ready to try again?" She nodded and I helped her get to her feet.
"Would it be better if I put my hand on your back so you don't move?" I asked. "It will be over faster." She nodded again, so I placed my hand on the small of her back and lined up the redo swat. (Remembering the incident I'm not completely sure why I did this, and it sounds a little strange now, but it felt perfectly natural at the time.) The swat was just as hard as before, but she managed to hold her position bravely.
Three more to go. I decided to deliver them in quick succession; she was obviously in a lot of pain, and while I was thoroughly enjoying myself, I didn't want to drag out the punishment longer than was necessary. I aimed the last few swats a little lower than the first few, giving all of them a few seconds apart, with considerable force. And the paddling was over.
I offered the girl a tissue and talked reassuringly to her until she stopped crying. She said her butt still hurt "really bad," and I didn't doubt it. It probably took a good five or ten minutes before she was composed enough to collect her things and leave. I, for my part, was still walking on air.
The next day (Wednesday) she was back in class and as cute as ever, but I could see that she was sitting rather gingerly. She smiled apologetically at me as she left, however, so no real harm seemed to be done. Her mother came to me after school to discuss the incident. She had no complaint with the paddling itself (although she personally would have chosen another punishment), but expressed some doubts about its severity. Apparently her daughter took away some somewhat alarming bruises, mainly on her right buttock, and she hadn't been able to sit comfortably all the previous evening. I expressed my regrets for the injuries, saying that some people bruise easier than others, and she seemed satisfied. (In reality I would probably have been surprised if a paddling of that force and duration had not
left a few lasting marks, but having never seen the aftermath of my paddlings personally I didn't have much of a benchmark.)
That's the story. I saw the girl around school occasionally after that, and she was in one of my classes her junior year, but I never paddled her again. I did keep the note that started it all as a trophy.
Feel free to ask any questions you like; this whole walk down memory lane has been quite interesting for me.