This will by necessity be in installments.

My first memory of school CP was when I was in the 4th grade.I was attending Grand Chain Elementary School in the town of Grand Chain,Il. My parents owned property there with an orchard and a small lake to fish and swim in. We also had a home in Chicago, but because of the civil rights riots going on,my father thought it better that we stay away from all that.

Grand Chain is a very small town near the southern tip of Il. They were liberal with the paddle at my school.
My brother is 18 months older than I ,so he was always 2 grades ahead of me.My brother is the type who was always bullied and picked on,even by kids who didn't usually pick on other kids.I on the other hand was a tough kid,never afraid to stick up for myself and very much into sports.Because of the differences between us,my father said that if my brother was getting picked on, I was to get in the middle of it or get a whipping with his belt when I got home.So I had been doing this since I was 5 years old and was now an automatic reaction to my brother being hurt.Most of the fights I was in were with kids 2 years older than me. Nobody in my class wanted to start anything so I always got along pretty well.

With that background,you can understand what happens next. I was sitting in class one day when all of a sudden we all hear pow,pow,pow. A huge booming sound out in the hall.Our teacher said someone was getting paddled.We said oh,she said it's not over,the principal never gives only 3.He must be having some trouble.Suddenly we hear pow,pow,pow. On the 4th swat we heard a cry like from a newborn baby only a lot louder. It was my brother. I would know that cry anywhere. I jumped out of my seat and ran for the door
saying that's my brother. Mrs. Peeler intercepted me saying you don't know that and I said yes I do pulling away and as I reached the door it stopped.Mrs.Peeler said you can't do anything about it now.There was more to the conversation ,but I don't remember it all.

That day when we got home,the first thing I did was tell my mom what had happened. She made my brother take his pants down and it was the worst thing I had ever seen.His butt was one big massive bruise with big blood blisters all over.The principal was also the 6th grade teacher at this time.So my mother asked what he had done to get this kind of paddling. He said he didn't know.It turned out that all he had done was somehow made Mr. Inright angry.No fighting ,no cursing,no anything that would you would expect to be punished like that for. My mother called my father at work and he said she should take him to hospital and call a lawyer. The Doctors would call the police he said.Well, my mother didn't want to do that. She didn't want the publicity or the cost of a lawyer.

So, the next day I went to school and told Mrs. Peeler all that had been said at home. At the first recess I saw her go straight over to Mr.Inright and start talking. She must have told him everything that had been said and done and I was just waiting for him to come over to me and confront me about trying to run out there when he was hitting my brother. But he didn't. That day after school he came to our house. I saw him arguing with my mom.I went inside ,picked up the shotgun we kept near the door ,made sure it was loaded and went outside to stand by my mother.He was still in his car and if he was going to get out he changed his mind.I thought I would get yelled at for bringing the gun,but she didn't say anything.After listening for awhile I asked what he had hit my brother for. He said J.... knew why.I said he said he didn't. And he said he wasn't going to tell us,it was up to my brother. I got really mad it this and walked over to his side of the car and said "if you ever hit my brother again,I'm going to shoot you." He left right after that and nothing was ever said about it again. To this day I don't know exactly why it happened and my brother says he doesn't remember.

It may have been all brushed under the rug at that time, but my actions set me up for a lot of punishment the following two years.

I'll go into that next post.

My 4th gade year was uneventfull after that.Mrs.Peeler was a nice teacher and only once used her paddle that year.I've already posted about that in another thread.
Her best weapon was snapping her fingers.She could make you jump out of your skin just by snapping her fingers.

The start of my 5th grade year was the beginning of two years of pure hell.I caught the school bus as usual for the first day of school.We had a new driver and he had trouble finding everyones house. So, i got to class just 3 minutes before the bell.I sat down and started talking to a friend I hadn't seen all summer.The bell rang and I had the misfortune of being the last one to stop talking.Mr.Richter our teacher(I could use a lot of adjectives for him,but don't want to be edited)yanked a piece of oak wood out of his desk(I won't call it a paddle because it was just a piece of wood)and said "come up here". I said "what for"? Although I already suspected. He said "you know what for".I said I didn't do anything wrong.And it went back and forth like that until I had run out of options. So I went up to the front and he made me bend over the desk.He gave me a swat and after what seemed like a long time, I stated to get up and shoved me back over and pow he let me have it hard.It was only two swats, but I was humiliated.I didn't cry ,but I was madder than hell.I went back to my seat in disgrace.

That was the beginning of a hate/hate relationship.I don't think I have ever hated anyone else if measured by that yardstick.I would spend my free time daydreaming of ways to get back at the bastard.But as I said,this was just the beginning.I think the worst part was the humiliation in front of my friends.I don't think I can remember every paddling I got from him ,but I'll touch on the ones that really bothered me the most.It wasn't the severity of the punishments,it was the total injustice of most of them.
The ones that I deserved I don't hold against him.

Richter knew that I hated his guts,so he used that against me.But he would also take every opportunity paddle me for no reason .Just as an example of this, one day I was playing baseball after lunch and a kid who never played ball started throwing dirt clods at me from the sideline. I told him to stop,but he kept on doing it. I had to keep my eyes on the game or I might miss a play. So he throws again and hits me right in the forehead. A huge bump swelled up right away so when we went back to class Richter asked what happened
and I told him it was an accident.But he wouldn't let it go ,so I had to tell him what happened. So he paddled the kid who did it and I thought it was over but no he had to paddle me too.So that was another one that really pized me off.

I always tried to talk my way out of it but usually to no avail. I suppose I did talk my way out of a couple,but it was rare and I never begged or pleaded.He always gave just two swats,so it wasn't the end of the world. I quess I should give a description of his 'paddle'. It was a piece of corsican oak that he had picked up off the ground at the lumber yard.It was about 3 inches wide and a full 1 inch thick.It didn't have a handle ,it just kind of tapered down a little at one end.It was a rough cut piece that had been cast off by the lumber yard.That thing didn't give at all,so the only thing that had to give was my butt.It would sting like hell for awhile and then leave my but sore for about 36 hours. So sitting down was a pain the next day.

I don't think I pointed out just how scared I was of that first paddling.All I could think about was what my brothers butt looked like after his paddling,and how he cried out during it.I didn't want to be seen as weak in front of my friends.So when I went up there all I wanted to do was get through it with out crying.

I'll try to finish this in one or two more posts.I don't want to write a book about it.

Later that same year my uncle was killed by a dump truck.I was devasted by this.I loved the man dearly.He had saved my life when I was tagging along behind him one day and fell into the bullpen.He reached over the fence and yanked me out just in time.

He was going to be buried in his and my mothers home town,so it would be a week before the funeral. So I went to school the next day and of course everyone had heard the news,including Richter.Most people were very sympathetic. Later in the day Richter was was giving me a hard time about not paying attention,and I told him my uncle had died and had the nerve to say something derogatory about him.That was the final straw.I told him exactly what I thought of him.Of course that's what he wanted me to do and he said that's no surprize,get up here and bend over.I don't think I even argued about it,I was so depressed.This sort of thing just kept happening and I was too ignorant to know any better.I just kept waiting for the school year to end so I could be rid of him.In February my grangfather died.He was the only one I had(my fathers father had died long ago)so I was heartbroken again.Of course Richter had something to say again,this time about a man he had never met. I just couldn't learn to keep my mouth shut so I got paddled again. There were several other tmes I got paddled that year ,but I don't remember them all.The scenerio was the same every time.

On last day of school I was in a very good mood.I knew I had passed with flying colors.I made sure of that.The last thing he did that day was to hand out report cards and while he was doing that ,he made an announcement. Mr. Inright was leaving the school.I was overjoyed.I had told myself that I would just stay out of trouble next year. Then he said " I will be taking over the 6th grade next year". He said have a good summer and I will see you all next year. But I was numb.I had worked my ass off all year to make sure I got away from the bastard and then this happened.My whole summer was ruined.

I will start on the 6th grade next post

That summer I played baseball on the little league team and Richter was asst. coach.He brought his paddle to the first practice,but the coach told him to get rid of it.I had no intention of letting him hit me anyway,so I wasn't worried.

Something amazing happened that summer.All the guys who had no interest in girls for as long as I had known them,suddenly did.My best friend Denver lived two miles away.His father worked at the lock and dam on the Ohio river.There were several families living right there on the site,so we could always get a team together to play ball.Denver and his brothers had a tree house close by and we got a girl fron our class to come up there and soon it led to "I'll show you mine if you show me yours".We were sworn to secrecy and I never told .

At the start of 6th grade,all the boys were talking about girls and the girls didn't know why we were looking at them and whispering to each other. One girl,Gila (more about her later)asked me why we were whispering about them and I told her,all the boys like girls now, but are afraid to talk to them.She spread the word like wildfire.Within a week,they were all wearing mini skirts and tight sweaters.

I guess I avoided the paddle for about two weeks that year.Richter by now knew just the right buttons to push.And I always fell into the trap. In October I got sick and was out of school for two weeks.I was in bed the entire time and don't remember any of it.When I was well enough to get out of bed,I found out I had two weeks homework to do.I did some of it,but I was sent back to school really before I had fully recovered.Naturally Richter wanted to paddle me for not doing all the homework,but I talked my way out of that one.A few weeks later I was fooling around with Denver after lunch in the classroom. I had him in a full nelson,and another kid 'James' was throwing mock punches at his stomach.All of a sudden 'Marten' runs up and hit Denver as hard as he could.Denver collapsed on the floor and stared howling at the top of his lungs. I was ready to kill Marten, but I had to try and help Denver.Teachers came running from all over the school and somebody called an ambulance.I knew I was in for it then.They took Denver to hospital and nothing else happened. I kept wondering why we hadn't been paddled right then.I found out a week later.

Our new principal 'Mr. Cross' (real name)was a "traveling" principal.He had three schools to administrate. Also the new 5th grade teacher was a young beautiful woman who didn't own a paddle nor would she use one. That was another piser.Why couldn't she teach 6th grade? The day Mr.Cross came to our school,first thing he did was call me,James ,Martin,
Denver,and Mr. Richter to his office.Richter went in and we all stood out in the hall.First Denver went in and came out about five minutes later.Next James went in and after about two minutes we hear pow,pow,pow,pow.
My heart sank. James came out in tears.I thought oh sh-t,James was a tough kid.Next it was my turn. I went in and started talking. After I had told the whole story, Mr. Cross looked like he was going to let me go.Then Fugging Richter said "you can't paddle the others and not him".Mr. Cross' paddle wasn't as big as Inrights',but it was big enough and looked fearsome. So I talked my way down to three swats. He didn't make me bend over he just said put your hands on the desk.I can tell you it hurt like h-ll anyway.Next it was Martens' turn.He got six bending over and didn't stop crying for a long time.I still wanted to beat him up.

One day when Richter was out of the room ,I put a big sharp thumbtack on his chair.When he sat down it got him.He jumped up and said "who put this here?".Every head in the class turned and looked at me.The ungrateful bastards. So it was another paddling.A hard one that time.I don't begrudge the ones I earned,just the ones I didn't.

Sometime that year I was talking to a man who I had never met,and told him what was happening to me at school.He said ,I know what's happening.He's baiting you and you take the bait every time. It was like somebody had turned on the lights for the first time.
He was absolutely right.I just didn't see it until somebody told me.

The next time Richter tried to get me to argue with him,I just sat there and didn't say a word. He stood there and waited for me to say something and finally he said ,well aren't you going to say anything? And I said no,you're just trying to bait me. And the guilt
was written all over his face.He didn't know what to say. And that was it as far as him goading me into getting paddled.His stress level went up noticably after that.A few weeks later he started having to take Malox for stomach problems.He sometimes had a ring of white chalky looking stuff around his lips.It looked like he was always in pain. I only got one more paddling that I remember and that was for a fight that I didn't start.
The fight started one day after school when we were standing in line waitng to use the restroom. There was a 5th grader standing front of me and he was upset about something that had just happened in his class.He was talking to everybody like he was going to beat them up and I wasn't having any.I said something to him and he punched me right in the face.That was it,the fight was on.I had him down and was just getting started beating him to a pulp when Richter grabs me around the waist and pulled me off.I was so mad I wriggled free and went after him again.This time he grabbed me and carried me up the stairs to our classroom door.He let me go to go get his paddle and I went after this kid again.Richter ran back out there with his paddle and pulled me off him again.Then he wanted to know what it was all about and I told him.The 5th grade teacher was there by that time and she confirmed that he was mad about something that happened in class.She even said it was her fault.After that Richter said 'well this one is getting paddled,I guess you can paddle the other one'.She said she didn't even have a paddle and he offered her his.She said she wouldn't even know how. I said,if he's not getting it I'm not going to either.She said why didn't you just come and tell somebody instead of fighting? And I said,Because he's a 5th grader,I couldn't let him get away with that.She said "he says it with such distain". And Richter for once stood up for me and said he's right,they would never let him live it down.
So I took my swats first and I looked him right in the eye and said that didn't hurt.I was trying to make him mad so he would really give it to the other kid.When he bent over for his swats,I said I should kick you in the head right now.That did it.Richter was pised.He told me if I did I would really get it.Then he whacked that kid harder than he ever hit me.And he cried.

One day I had to miss school ,I don't remember why.All I know is it was a good day to miss.I came back the next day and the first thing Richter did was line up every boy in class for swats.I had no idea what was going on and almost got in line.But somebody said 'you don't have to'so I sat back down. Richter saw me sitting there and said "you're not a boy?' I said I didn't do anything.What's this all about?The girls all liked me for some reason and they reminded him that I wasn't there yesterday.It turned out that the bell didn't ring after lunch and all the boys were out playing baseball and didn't come back to class when they were supposed to.I sat there and watched as all the goody goody boys got paddled and some of them cried.

One day Richter got into it with Gila.I can't remember what it was about,but it turned into a heated arguement.Finally,Richter yanks his drawer open and pulls out his paddle.That is usually a good time to shut up.Not this time though.Gila just kept on with the arguement.Richter said 'get up here and bend over'.
And Gila said NO! And it went back and forth like that for awhile.Then Gila says she is not going to get paddled in front of the whole class.I thought he had won. He said 'get out in the hall'.He followed her out to the hall where we could hear another arguement.A few minutes later they both came back in.Gila had won.
I couldn't believe it. The next day before class started,Gila's older brother was talking to Richter. He was a good foot taller than Richter and was standing about six inches away and looking down at him.All I heard was ,'if my father has to take off work to come up here ,there's going to be trouble'.And just before he left he said 'don't hit my sister'. That was it,Gila had won.The next time Richter tried to get me to 'come up there and bend over' I just laughed at him and said NO. He never used the paddle again that year.

Gila was suddenly very popular.And she deserved to be.
She was a very nice girl and she stood up to Richter and made him back down.Richter is retired now and still lives in Grand Chain,Il.

There is a story I left out,because it would sound exactly like some of the pork pie fantasies that draw so much criticism on this forum.And rightly so.But it resulted in my having the most beautiful girl in class as my girlfriend for most of the year.

When baseball was over that summer we moved back to Chicago and I started 7th grade at public school and it was total chaos.There was no CP in Chicago public schools. So after two weeks I found myself in Military School.

Dear Bob,

I hope I am correct in assuming that the above message completes your account of corporal punishment at school in grades four to six: I would not wish to interrupt you in mid-flow.

As an avid reader of our forum, you will know that we have few members (and ex-members) residing in the Colonies, and it is for this reason that your writings are extremely highly valued by our Research Team.

I have also enjoyed reading your contributions to R.G’s butt-whuppin’ group.

Keep on a-postin’
About the ass-roastin’.

Gillian

done edit - was typo

carl and mats

I don't want to give anyone the impression that I had won the battle with Richter.I didn't. The hatred and contempt that I felt,stayed with me for many years.I would lie in bed at night 'running the old tapes'i.e. going over the memories in my head.Every time my life became difficult,the memories would come back.Finally,I sought professional help.With therapy I was able to work through it.Part of the problem was the fact that my parents did little or nothing to stop what was happening.My mother kept her head in the sand,and talking to her was like talking to a very small child.If she said anything at all it was something like 'oh that couldn't possibly be true'and she would go about her life in denial of what was happening.My father was very old fashioned.He had the spare the rod mentality.He thought I must be bringing on myself somehow.On the few occasions that my mother went to talk to Richter,he charmed her and they were laughing together as I watched in horror.So nothing was ever done.I just had to get through it.I felt abandoned and that I was on my own.

Now, after 30+ years the anger is gone,and I no longer run the old tapes,but I don't think I would pass up the opportunity to pis on his grave.


Thank you for your kind words Gillian. I don't see how an experience as unique as mine would fit into your statistics.

By the way,a famous American author once said " there are three kinds of lies: lies,damn lies,and statistics.
Meaning of course that statistics can be made to say what we want them to say.

The expression, 'lies, damned lies and statistics' is attributed to Disraeli in Mark Twain's autobiography (1924).

A useful expression which I, for one, shall not hesitate to employ in the future.

Many thanks to Bob for explaining its meaning.