The elementary school I attended in small-town Canada back in the Fifties and Sixties sanctioned corporal punishment. Most often, it took the form of strapping on the hands. The school's vice principal was a small, no-nonsense, older woman. I'm inclined to remember her as grandmotherly (she was my homeroom teacher in Grade Seven), but age was certainly no impediment to her prowess with the strap.
I'm sure I got more than just the one strapping, but I clearly recall that time when another boy and I were caught swordfighting with rulers from our adjacent desks. Each of us summoned in turn to the front of the room, palms turned up - and whack! Pain and embarrassment, instantly registered. I didn't cry, but neither did I sing a song. I shuffled back to my desk, my seared palms throbbing, ashamed of the public punishment I'd provoked.
This same teacher had a slipper in the drawer of her desk. I've forgotten just how it came to be discovered by us, but her subsequent comments left me with the impression that any naughty girls would be slippered on their bums. We'd all seen palms being strapped, but over-the-knee spankings were definitely more elusive. I saw one, though; the only 'formal' spanking I've ever witnessed, in this same classroom.
There was a young married couple on the teaching staff; both of them physically imposing and not at all reluctant to throw their weight around. The man was our Phys Ed instructor, and he once slammed me up against some lockers because he'd seen me teasing another boy. Perhaps he had me in mind - he certainly got my attention - on the occasion when he told the Grade Sevens that what some of us needed was "a good, stiff hairbrush on [our] bare bottoms!"
Similarly, his wife was a buxom, blustering believer in spanking. My mother taught at that school, and I was sometimes privy to after-hours chit chat. The pro-spanking couple had a little boy of their own, and his mum told my mum that she paddled his bottom. My mum, however, couldn't say the same.
This privileged proximity to an actively pro-spanking mother no doubt enhanced my reaction to the startling sight of her barging into our classroom one day, grabbing a troublemaking sort of boy from his desk, dragging him to a table with benches at the back of the room, and putting him over her lap for a brisk dozen-or-so smacks on the seat of his pants.
If she scolded him, I've forgotten what for. I do know he didn't cry. A big joke, right? Well, I'd be willing to bet he felt badly about it when there was no one around to help him laugh it off. I'm also reasonably sure that his pants would've been taken down if permitted. These were two genuine advocates and practitioners of bare bottom spanking, and having to smack a bad boy's trousers must've left this woman feeling hamstrung.
I know it how it left me feeling. For a long time afterwards, I imagined what it would've been like if I'd been the boy she spanked. I was sweet on a very pretty girl in that class. What if she'd seen me get an over-the-knee spanking? She'd seen me get the strap, but I'd much rather she'd seen me get my bottom spanked.
You raise an interesting question. Did this couple support the use of corporal punishment in the interest of discipline or did they ENJOY spanking firm young bottoms?
I once discussed this subject with an ex teacher who I knew enjoyed consensual spanking in her relationship. I was aware that at the time she was teaching, corporal punishment was used frequently and asked her if she had ever been tempted to administer a caning that was not justified. She was adamant that although she had often wielded the cane at school, she had never punished a child who did not deserve it.