Right, now believe it or not this story actually did happen to me. (Lotta is already picking up her mouse)


When I was about 11, my mother, who had become involved in Fundemental Christianity decided to retire her teaching career in Malaysia and move the two of us to Australia where she would go to seminary --actually-- Bible School.

So we did. And the institution she went to also had an attached "Christian School". Bethel Christian Academy it was called and her part of it was Bethel Bible College. It was run by a triumvirate of father and two sons: Pastors Leslie (father) and Philip and Tony. Leslie was about 60 I suppose and was supposedly the overseer of the institution as a whole. Philip was the headmaster (principal I think he was referred to) of the School and Tony ran and taught in the Bible College. They had personalities to match their jobs. Leslie sort of stuffy and aloof, Philip bullying, sour and squawking (from working with children and teens no doubt, and Tony, charming, personable, scholarly. Tony had us over to play cards at his house once -- for which sin we were reprimanded later.

I had had, as I have mentioned before on this forum NO experience with CP in the Malaysian primary school system, so this move to Australian school in 1984 was quite a shock.

First of all, for all its claims of "high quality education" and being an "academy" (in malaysia we had been somewhat awed by its title and my mother thrilled about the "christian" part) the academic standards were woefully substandard and while most of the kids were simply children of parents who believed in "christian education", there was seemingly large percentage of kids there who had been sent there because they were troubled, had gotten thrown out of the state schools or were being punished by their parents. The acedemics were so bad, I spent part of my first year there in year 6 (I had just finished
primary 5 in Malaysia) but was bumped up to year 7 after 3 months or so. This provided a unique (traumatic) view of school life between primary and secondary levels. Years 1-6 were upstairs in the school buildings, two years to every open classroom (partions, no walls) and years 7-10 were downstairs where there were traditional classrooms.

In the primary school, kids were given the paddle systematically, routinely -- I don't remember a day when the paddle wasn't at least mentioned. It was given at the discretion of the teacher for whatever he or she thought appropriate. Mrs Kimes our year teacher was fair and firm and paddling was given as a an established consequence of rule-breaking. Usually it was given in private, but because there were no walls -- everyone heard everything. Oddly enough, Pastor Philip's office was also upstairs. It was one building with walls. Secondary students were often sent there for punishment, and Philip would paddle them with the door closed but the paddle shots would ring and the entire upstairs would hush. His office was one of the "walls" of the year 5 and 6 room, so we were in view of comings and goings as well as in excellent earshot.

So there I was, foreign, the only, non-white person for miles (except for mum), overly smart by their standards, glasses, chubby, not at all sporty -- I didn't know how to swear in English -- I played the piano. Plus my mum and I boarded in -- we were roomates as all the buildings were more or less on the same acre of ground -- which meant that I never got off the grounds much except on organized trips.

On day, a few months into our stay there, my mum who had gone on a preaching trip with another Bible student was in a terrible accident. She'd been gone for a week or so and then sister Fay, the dorm mother came and got me one day and marched me off to Pastor Tony's house a few blocks away without any explanation. I had no idea what had happenned -- only that it was bad. Turns out my mother was in hospital injured, but would recover. I was never allowed to see her untill a week later when she came home. I had been out on some organized trip and was dying to get back to the dorm to see her. That night as I was getting out of the van, Brother Ray (dorm father) said something to me about being in a hurry I don't remember what exactly and I replied something to the effect of wild horses wouldn't prevent me from getting back to my mum. I had been anxious all day and really wanted to get off the van and to my mum.

A week or more later. Pastors Leslie, Philip and Bro. Ray stormed my dorm room in the afternoon not long after school was over. They announced to my perplexed and cowed mother that I had behaved terribly awfully to Bro. Ray for what I said to him on the van and they were going to show us how they deal with such things here at Bethel. I was accused of Familiarity. My mother was intimidated and confused (Funny it took three of them) and said little. I said nothing, not knowing what the hell Familiary was, and was ordered to go immediately to Pastor Philip's office.

I stood for what seemed like hours in front of his office, sweating and shaking. Philip didn't have the paddle at that moment, so Johnny Oldroyd -- from the secondary school -- was asked to fetch it. Philip disappeared. A passing teacher stopped and tried to make conversation about my wonderful piano skills -- even asked if I would play for him right then -- I declined as politely as I could promising another time. (What the hell was he thinking?!)
Finally Philip and the paddle arrived. I was lectured to again about familiarity and ordered to run and face the desk and bend over, but I refused to bend, just turned and put my fingertips on his desktop. (I had my blue pinafore uniform dress still on) He hit me four times. I remember being surprised that it didn't hurt -- I had clenched my behind as tight as I could and wasn't bent. I succeeded in maintaining poker face troughout and after -- I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of seeing how furious and upset I was. The tears boiled their way out as I got downstairs, out of the building. I bumped into Elaine, a woman with a daughter who lived in the room next to us, and quite lost it to her babbling about familiarity and the paddle. I remember that she was surprised that i got so many whacks. 4 apparently was reserved for bad offenses and kids with priors. I had been a nerdy goody-goody who caused no trouble.

The paddling made everything different for me. Johnny Oldroyd let it leak that nerdy me had done something bad enough to warrant the paddle which gave me some notoriety. Any scrap of respect I had for these people was replaced with scorn and disdain. I embraced the "Us and them" atmosphere between students and authority at the school. I learned to swear as hard as I could and quite frankly turned into a rebel. If there was any rule-breaking to be done, I'd make sure to be par of it. I must have developed quite an attitude. A few weeks later, at public assembly, Pastor philip announced a detention for a boy who had left his gym shoes in the lavatories the day before. It struck me as stupid and unfair and out of my mouth popped "that's slack". Everyone heard and silenced, the teacher next to me caught her breath. Phillip yelled "S_______ D________ get to the office!" Oddly enough, Philip didn't paddle me just muttered something about "not wanting a repeat of the other day". Let me go with a detention. I was never physically punished again.


Shortly after that I was moved up (downstairs to join year 7). Here the corporal punishment situation and general atmosphere was even worse -- full of tension and agression and plain meanness. At least, in the primary school the structure was clear and punishments were given systematically according to teacher -- usually fairly. In the secondary school, punishments were arbitrary and overly often. Phillip and all the teachers paddled liberally. One teacher rulered us for talking out of turn even accidentally. One of the teahers walked around with a cricket bat threatening to paddle, and one teacher (Father Brian) used his own cane. He caned both girls and boys in private with no one else present. My friend Leanne got three strokes for talking out of turn -- showed us marks after. Another girl Becky -- who had a rep for being rude and difficult, he caned 6 times in front of the whole class. She cried. It was so bad everyone was nice to her and didn't tease. (A very unusual thing) Later that year Phillip paddled Andrew, a year 10 boy for disagreeing with him in class. Andrew, who I knew because he also dormed was also a "good" scholarly sort very much a favorite with all the teachers. The entire school was shocked and Andrew barely spoke for the next few days. The rumours from the year 5s and 6s who had been next door the office was that Philip had hit Andrew more than 10 times. THe more corporal punishment was threatened and used, the more stubborn, disrespectful and disruptive we were.

I don't remember learning much in the way of academic work that year. I had to play serious catch up later when I changed schools. But I certainly grew up some.

I don't know if the school still exists -- I'd be surpised if it did -- it was in Mt Druitt, in Sydney -- Dean? Unfortunately I can't remember the surnames of Philip and co.

Thanks Saro, sounds like an awful school even worse than mine in the 50s. What was it called? There is an Australian section on friendsreunited.

sorry just noticed the name.

Its still there http://www.bethel.nsw.edu.au/Parent%20Area/Enrolment%20Form.pdf

its on friendsreunited but has a error so can't see it.

I though FR was an site for UK schools?

There is a pull down list in left hand panel, just click on Australia, Bethel school is listed there.

Thank you Saro, I feel honored. It sounds like you had an experience similar to some that I had. I want to go and kick Phillips' arse. And Dean thinks they should bring back SCP. Fundamentalist Christian schools are the worst. They take the spare the rod BS to an extreme. I am so happy that you have returned.

Yes, Bob, I think that school corporal is a good idea in certain circumstances, provided it is properly controlled and properly used as it was at the school I attended.

I find what Saro describes absolutely disgusting and revolting - and under New South Wales law as applied in 1984, what is described would have been pretty much completely illegal on several levels.

In other words, assuming the description is accurate - and I have no reason to doubt it - this school was ignoring the laws and regulations that applied - so it probably wouldn't have mattered if it was illegal or not.

Please do not assume that because I support corporal punishment, that means I support every form it's ever taken, and every single incident of abuse that's ever occurred. Because I don't.

I just happen to have benefitted greatly from the regime that applied at my school - and been one of hundreds who benefitted from it.

I support it when it's controlled and administered by people who genuinely care about their students. Not always easy to achieve those conditions - but they do happen.

Mark, I looked up the Bethel website and was possesed by an urge to spit on it. I heartily lamented that I have no programming/hacking skills or I would have tried to jimmy the site up.

I was also surprised at my own reaction. There were no staff left from the time that i went there -- which must have been the 1st or 2nd year of its existence. I looked at the staff names and photos, but no one is left -- it was very small when I was there. So all my ugre to hiss and scream at them is completely irrational -- but I'm still repressing the urge to go to a hacker friend for help.

I have thought of the incident many times -- its my most prominent memory of my first year in Australia -- but except for on that day, I've never been as angry and upset in the strange way that I have been yesterday after writing. All I could think about all day were the other kids and those bastards. All last night I kept dreaming in hour spurts about teachers and kids from there. I would realize what I was dreaming about and wake myself up. I woke up really late this morning and am still a bit out of sorts.

Its strange: Philip didn't hurt me -- I don't remember physical pain. The whole thing was just so weird -- I had only been at the school a couple of months then. I had never been given a detention or even reprimanded for anything. The only thing I'd heard so far was praise for how well I read/wrote. Australia and English education was still new world to me and I was shy and was trying not to stand out any more than I already did. Why did they suddenly think I needed taking down -- paddling? Why wasn't I confronted about being Familiar -- I would have apologized to Ray had he told me I had been rude -- probably -- after seeing my mum. And later when I really did cop an attitude with everyone -- they let everthing go.

I am not against CP per se -- and had Philip whacked me for the outburst at assembly, I would have felt he had a right to --but that and everthing else later, i got away with.

I wonder all the time about how the rest of the kids in years 7 , 8 and 9 turned out-- we seemed to get most of the abuse. One dorming girl, Kellie, actually ran away. She was brought back and paddled, naturally. I mentioned some of the more shocking incidents -- but there were so many daily occurences.

Hi Saro

I remember feeling very resentful when caned unfairly at my prep school, it certainly hurt and I had marks for weeks. I too get recurring dreams about it but quite like them. I suppose I came to terms with by eroticising it and got to like being caned, especially the after effects.

In spite of the fact that my Spankophilia is limited to fantasy and this website, The one scenario I cannot possibly eroticize is that one incident of school CP directly applied to me. I didn't mention the words "humiliation" "shame" and "disgust". But those are my primary feelings towards the event and preclude any eroticizing thereof. In fact I choose not to think of it if ever my thoughts go in that direction. I'm ambarrassed that such a thing happenned to me.

I wish I had been whacked justly by someone kindly authority figure interested in my well being, but that year I learned that noone, (meaning adults) are so flawless or wise that they should be allowed to have such power over others, or even deserve unqualified respect. I've never called anyone "sir" since -- except in fantasy of course.

And Bob, I'm still waiting for that Man who'll beat up a bad guy like Philip just for insulting me (one of my fantasies actually) -- so if you find him, call me because I might want to watch -- and I'd love you forever.

Anything for you cyber love. I was just that type of man in my younger days. Today, although I am still capable, the courts are not as understanding of these things as they used to be.

Dear Saro,

Thank you for sending such an interesting account of your introduction to c.p. I can understand that you did not find it erotic and admire your courage in writing about it. Would you tell us please how, after having such a bad experience, you came to be a (self-confessed) spankophile?

Best wishes from Simon

This is a good question -- how I became a pervert instead of children's rights crusader -- I'd love to explore with you all.

Will answer as entertainingly as possible in near future -- very busy off-broadway right now -- also would like to string my lawyer up.

Saro