I Was Paddled In High School
HOLD YOUR SKIRT!
My former co-worker Jenny told me one lunch hour about the paddling she received in the high school she attended in northern Pennsylvania. I don't want to bad-mouth anybody, but it was well-known that Pennsylvania schools were notorious for their paddlings, which only became illegal about fifteen years ago as I recall. Because I live right over the border in New York, the local media made big news out of the abolition of corporal punishment in the Pennsylvania school system.
But the change in policy came too late for Jenny.
As she related to me, her high school had a strict tardiness policy. Most of the teachers locked the classroom door upon the sound of the bell, and the crestfallen student had to trudge down to the main office to get a late pass. Upon accumulating three late passes, the student had to endure a paddling before being allowed to return to class.
Jenny said she was in the bathroom and tried to hurry along to get to class on time, but the school also had a policy of no running in the halls, so Jenny had to walk quickly. Before she could reach the classroom she heard the annoying sound of the bell. When she tried the doorknob she found it locked. She knocked at the glass panel of the door. Suddenly the Venetian blind that covered the window was lifted, and the teacher appeared. He pointed toward the office. Jenny tried to plead with him by gesture to let her in, but the teacher shook his head and pointed again to the office. Jenny knew she had no option but to go for a late pass—and she also knew that this would have been her third one this year.
At the office Jenny meekly asked for a late pass from the secretary, who told her to wait a moment while she went into the principal's inner room. The next thing Jenny saw was the principal emerging from his room and over to the counter where Jenny stood.
“Miss Green,” he said, “I see you've accumulated three late passes.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jenny.
The principal said—right in front of the office staff--”I'm afraid you'll have to be spanked before I let you back into class.”
Spanked, huh? The word sounded so trivial. “Paddled” would have been more appropriate. It's not the same as a spanking. I've had both, and there is a world of difference between the two.
“But all I want to do is get to class,” Jenny pleaded.
“You will,” replied the principal, “right after we take care of some business. Step in here.” And he swung open the gate that divided the counter and the office itself.
Jenny's heart sank. The principal told her to put her books down and walk over to a student desk in the corner of the room. To her horror, he was going to paddle her in front of the staff.
The desk was facing backward, with the back of its seat facing out into the room. He instructed her to bend over it.
Jenny went over the seat and rested her upper body on the flat desk. Meanwhile the principal went back into his office and came back out holding the formidable-looking paddle of dark wood. He positioned himself behind Jenny.
“Hold your skirt!” he commanded.
Jenny reached back with both hands and grabbed two handfuls of material, thus pulling her skirt tight against her stuck-up rump. She felt him pat the target with the paddle, and she closed her eyes in anticipation.
WHACK! Went the paddle across her skirted bottom.
“AAH!” Jenny yelled. She said she had never felt anything like that searing pain that was imparted upon her rear end.
WHACK!
“OHH!!” she yelled again. She knew the office ladies were watching as they continued their routines.
WHACK! The third swat really bit into her hind end. “Oh, no more!” she hollered. With Jenny holding her skirt tight with both hands, she found herself balanced delicately on the desk with her upper body effectively preventing her from rising up.
WHACK! The fourth swat brought tears to Jenny's eyes and she began to sob.
"Oh stop! Please stop!” she entreated.
WHACK!! came the final spank. Jenny thought it was harder than the others, as though the principal meant to seal in the burning pain. Jenny was now crying unabashedly.
“All right,” said the principal, “get up and get to class!”
Jenny lifted herself painfully off the desk, unclutched her skirt and shook it out to let it fall neatly around her knees. The secretary handed the crying girl the requested late slip without comment or even an amused look, as though she was used to this sort of activity.
Sniffling, Jenny walked out of the office holding the late slip in one hand and her books in the other. She knocked gently at the classroom door. This time the teacher let her in. Jenny was immediately aware of the stares and muffled giggles of her classmates, who of course knew she had been spanked.
Jenny told me the story with a barely-concealed outrage in her tone. She still could not believe this had happened to her. However, she did admit that the incident kept her on good behavior. She reasoned that if she could get five swats for coming late to class, what would happen if she really messed up?
My former co-worker Jenny told me one lunch hour about the paddling she received in the high school she attended in northern Pennsylvania. I don't want to bad-mouth anybody, but it was well-known that Pennsylvania schools were notorious for their paddlings, which only became illegal about fifteen years ago as I recall. Because I live right over the border in New York, the local media made big news out of the abolition of corporal punishment in the Pennsylvania school system.
But the change in policy came too late for Jenny.
As she related to me, her high school had a strict tardiness policy. Most of the teachers locked the classroom door upon the sound of the bell, and the crestfallen student had to trudge down to the main office to get a late pass. Upon accumulating three late passes, the student had to endure a paddling before being allowed to return to class.
Jenny said she was in the bathroom and tried to hurry along to get to class on time, but the school also had a policy of no running in the halls, so Jenny had to walk quickly. Before she could reach the classroom she heard the annoying sound of the bell. When she tried the doorknob she found it locked. She knocked at the glass panel of the door. Suddenly the Venetian blind that covered the window was lifted, and the teacher appeared. He pointed toward the office. Jenny tried to plead with him by gesture to let her in, but the teacher shook his head and pointed again to the office. Jenny knew she had no option but to go for a late pass—and she also knew that this would have been her third one this year.
At the office Jenny meekly asked for a late pass from the secretary, who told her to wait a moment while she went into the principal's inner room. The next thing Jenny saw was the principal emerging from his room and over to the counter where Jenny stood.
“Miss Green,” he said, “I see you've accumulated three late passes.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jenny.
The principal said—right in front of the office staff--”I'm afraid you'll have to be spanked before I let you back into class.”
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Spanked, huh? The word sounded so trivial. “Paddled” would have been more appropriate. It's not the same as a spanking. I've had both, and there is a world of difference between the two.
“But all I want to do is get to class,” Jenny pleaded.
“You will,” replied the principal, “right after we take care of some business. Step in here.” And he swung open the gate that divided the counter and the office itself.
Jenny's heart sank. The principal told her to put her books down and walk over to a student desk in the corner of the room. To her horror, he was going to paddle her in front of the staff.
The desk was facing backward, with the back of its seat facing out into the room. He instructed her to bend over it.
Jenny went over the seat and rested her upper body on the flat desk. Meanwhile the principal went back into his office and came back out holding the formidable-looking paddle of dark wood. He positioned himself behind Jenny.
“Hold your skirt!” he commanded.
Jenny reached back with both hands and grabbed two handfuls of material, thus pulling her skirt tight against her stuck-up rump. She felt him pat the target with the paddle, and she closed her eyes in anticipation.
WHACK! Went the paddle across her skirted bottom.
“AAH!” Jenny yelled. She said she had never felt anything like that searing pain that was imparted upon her rear end.
WHACK!
“OHH!!” she yelled again. She knew the office ladies were watching as they continued their routines.
WHACK! The third swat really bit into her hind end. “Oh, no more!” she hollered. With Jenny holding her skirt tight with both hands, she found herself balanced delicately on the desk with her upper body effectively preventing her from rising up.
WHACK! The fourth swat brought tears to Jenny's eyes and she began to sob.
"Oh stop! Please stop!” she entreated.
WHACK!! came the final spank. Jenny thought it was harder than the others, as though the principal meant to seal in the burning pain. Jenny was now crying unabashedly.
“All right,” said the principal, “get up and get to class!”
Jenny lifted herself painfully off the desk, unclutched her skirt and shook it out to let it fall neatly around her knees. The secretary handed the crying girl the requested late slip without comment or even an amused look, as though she was used to this sort of activity.
Sniffling, Jenny walked out of the office holding the late slip in one hand and her books in the other. She knocked gently at the classroom door. This time the teacher let her in. Jenny was immediately aware of the stares and muffled giggles of her classmates, who of course knew she had been spanked.
Jenny told me the story with a barely-concealed outrage in her tone. She still could not believe this had happened to her. However, she did admit that the incident kept her on good behavior. She reasoned that if she could get five swats for coming late to class, what would happen if she really messed up?
