My first day in high school as a freshman started great. Not only was I now one of the big guys, but it had been almost six weeks since I had been across my Mom's knee feeling the back of her hairbrush way too many times. I think that may have been a record for me. I was feeling good.
My friend Pat and I were horsing around in the hall and knocked over a couple kids causing their books to scatter all over the place. In the scuffle, another kid slipped on the papers that had fallen and sprained her wrist trying to break her fall.
Father O'Brian, the school disciplinarian witnessed the whole thing. Since someone had gotten hurt, even a little, he figured Pat and I needed to learn right away that such horsing around was not part of the school day. Right in the hall he gave us each two good swats with his paddle. They stung pretty bad, but nothing to write home about.
After the smacks he reached in his pocket and filled out two disciplinary notices that we would have to take home and have our parents sign.
When he handed me mine I commented, "I won't be sitting for dinner tonight. Father, do I have to get this signed?"
Pat said, "Me too, my Mom's going to have a fit."
"Boys, you just got a couple of smacks, you will be fine in a little while. I know it stings now but don't make such a big deal over it", he said as he walked away.
What Father did not know was that when my Mom saw the note I would be getting a real blistering with her hairbrush. And since it was at school, I would get a second one two days later. The school year was not starting as planned.
I hung around school until about 5:00 p.m. trying to avoid the inevitable and walked into our kitchen about 5:15. Mom was cooking dinner and asked me how my first day at school was and I replied "OK" as I handed her the notice from father O'Brian.
"Well, it certainly didn't take you long did it? I'll turn dinner down, you get my hairbrush, and we will take care of number one right away", Mom said.
In a couple of minutes the stove was turned down, my bottom was bared and turned up, and Mom was smacking it with her brush.
We were past the ouch stage and into the OOOOWWWWWWW, PLEEEESE STOP, IT HUURTS, OOOWWWWWWWEEE, when the doorbell rang. There was already a fire burning and I was crying.
I was sent to the corner while Mom answered the door with the usual warning that if I rubbed we would start from the beginning.
While I was trying to be quite so no one would know I was there and want to come into the kitchen, I heard something close to the following conversation. The person at the door was Sister Phillips, the school principal.
Mom: "Sister, what are you doing here?"
Sister: "I wanted to make sure there was no mistake about what happened today at school."
Mom: "What are you referring to?"
Sister: "Well, the disciplinarian gave Terry a couple of swats this afternoon, I am sure they stung quite a bit but Terry seemed to think they were much worse than they really were."
Mom: "Yes I know he got the paddle today, but why do you think its severity was being blown out of proportion?"
Sister: "Father told me that Terry said he wouldn't be able to sit for dinner tonight and I assure you that he did not spank him hard enough for that to be the result. I don't mind spanking that hard when necessary, but it didn't happen today."
Mom: "I think I see the confusion. Terry didn't say he got spanked that hard, and I know by looking that he didn't, but he was right that he will be eating at the counter because he won't be able to sit tonight. Come on into the kitchen and I can clear this right up right away."
Sister came into the kitchen and saw me standing in the corner with a bright red bottom on display sniffling away. Now I was both hurting and embarrassed.
Mom continued, "We have a house rule that when Terry gets paddled or spanked at school he gets spanked twice at home. The first time is immediately after school and again two days later so he will have a long memory of the event that caused his pain. It doesn't make any difference if he gets one swat or gets a can't sit down blistering at school, he gets the hairbrush when he gets home. And when I spank, he can never sit down for quite a while."
Sister looked at my bottom and agreed that she wouldn't want to sit on it for a while if it belonged to her. She said it looked pretty red and sore.
Mom said, "You think it looks sore now, we had just started when you arrived. I learned a long time ago that Terry doesn't really get the message until he has been blistered well. I don't know why he is the way he is, but he is, and as long as this works I will keep on doing it. Would you like to see me finish his spanking?"
"Oh Mom, please don't let her stay, I don't want to see her see me acting like a baby", I begged.
"Terry, don't be silly. I am sure Sister has seen young men corrected before. I am also sure when she sees my hairbrush at work she won't think you are a baby. She will undoubtedly see a young man, with a bottom that is really burning, and who just can't help but cry his eyes out and beg me to stop."
"I would be delighted", said Sister Phillips.
In no time at all my now quite red bottom was again facing the ceiling and Sister had a ringside seat.
Since I was already sore, and on the brink of more tears, it only took a second for Mom to get the reaction she was looking for.
Mom just kept on slapping my bottom with the hairbrush until I couldn't sit when she was done. Then it was off to the corner with my bottom on display, tears in my eyes and crying loudly from the pain in my seat. I was one unhappy freshman.
"Quite impressive, I can see now why he said he wouldn't be able to sit tonight", commented Sister. "I can also see that he will have trouble sitting for at least a couple of days. I will let his teachers know that it will be OK if he stands in the back of class the next two days, or should I make it the rest of the week since you said he would be spanked again in a couple of days?"
Mom interrupted, "Oh, please don't do that. I want Terry to be treated just like everyone else, not better, not worse. Yes, he won't want to sit at his desk all day tomorrow, and probably for the rest of the week also. But he also knows that he is responsible for that. His bottom is his problem and he has to suffer the consequences of his actions."
"If Father O'Brian had given him 50 swats and he came home with a fire that just wouldn't quit, he would still get the hairbrush. If he gets the brush at home and earns a real blistering at school, I expect it to be just as hard and long as if you were starting with an un-spanked bottom."
"Before today, Terry had gone almost six weeks without me needing to use my hairbrush, almost a record for him. I knew it wouldn't last, I just didn't think it would be his first day in high school. You will find that Terry is a good kid who unfortunately acts long before his brain starts working and a sore bottom is just the medicine he needs."
"Sister, just promise me one thing, don't give Terry an inch."
Sister assured Mom she would be more than happy to grant that wish and could only hope that more parents would make the same request.
As much as I wanted to stay out of trouble, after Mom and Sister had their little conversation, there would be many unpleasant experiences over the next four years, it seems I just couldn't help myself. Some events that come to mind are:
-- The End --