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Recollections by Richard Williamson (adult schoolboy at Muir Academy)
Staying out of trouble
I had planned to be good this term and I managed to stay out of trouble the first few days. I avoided Matron like the plague. She was handing out demerits left, right and centre. I tried so hard to do everything right, that there was hardly a moment of relaxation. It started from early morning, make bed, clean room, wear blazer at all times, don't run in corridor, walk slowly on stairs, hands out of pockets, be on time, stand in line, wash hands before meal, don't sit near Matron at table, brush teeth after meal, hands out of pockets, walk slowly on stairs, hands out of pockets, don't throw stones, take saucer with teacup, hands out of pockets...
It felt like a relief to be in the classroom for lessons, where there was no Matron about. At least, it gave me an hour or two respite. I could take off my blazer, chew on my pen, put my hands in my pockets, or my elbows on the table without having to worry about stinking demerits. Mr Melman, our history teacher, didn't mind. He was relaxed. Of course Miss Prim would occasionally tell me to sit up straight, or take my pen out of my mouth, but that was alright. She taught biology and geography and occasionally asked me a question. Knowing I wasn't the brightest pupil when it came to these subjects, she didn't expect me to know the answer, but whenever I did, she would give me a smile and make me feel proud.
Mr Melman's history handouts contained a lot of facts about dead people. I enjoyed the gruesome details of the stories, but couldn't cope with all the names and dates that went with them. I underlined all names and dates with different colours, which brightened up the pages immensely, but didn't help much with the learning. I flunked the history test big time. Luckily, Barnsley also attended summer school. As long as he was in class, nobody really had to worry about being last in a test.
Adventure in the swimming pool
Matron assisted Ma'am in the afternoon art lessons. We made vases from clay, using a jam jar as a base container. The clay turned out to be rubbish, as all the pots cracked when they dried. Miss Prim was very annoyed at this and assured us she would write a letter of complaint to the manufacturer. I didn't really mind, because instead of having to paint the clay pots in a second art lesson, we were now free to go swimming!
Fidget was the first one in the pool. He wanted to do his lanes, swimming up and down the length of the pool like a disciplined athlete. That's wasn't my cup of tea. I wanted to play with a ball and fool around with the water guns I'd brought with me. It didn't take much to convince Fidge to join me. After I hit him with the ball and splashed him with my gun, he was more than happy to use the second gun to shoot back at me. When we saw Miss Prim heading over towards the pool for a swim, we set up an ambush. After she'd taken off her dressing gown and came within firing range, we drew our fully loaded weapons and super-soaked the headmistress in a shower of cold water. Miss Prim's shrill, high pitched yelps and funny jumps were priceless and well worth the caning that was likely to follow our foolishness. Matron and Mr Melman, who were watching from a safe distance, fell about laughing. The headmistress regained her composure and threatened us with horrible punishments, while she prepared herself to get into the pool. Fidge lied to her that the water temperature wasn't that bad and lured her into jumping in. When she did, the sudden plunge into the cold water gave her such a shock, that it completely wiped her short term memory. Fidge and I were home free.
After prep, I played ping pong with Robin, who taught me how the game was actually supposed to be played. I also played outside with Fidge, who taught me a new game with stones that you have to lay down in a circle, You throw one stone in the air and quickly grab another from the circle, before catching the one you have thrown. It was frustratingly difficult and I quickly gave up.
In the evenings we played games like 'who am I', where you have to stick on note on your forehead, so that everybody can read it except you. Then you have to ask 'yes/no' questions to find out what's written on the note. I didn't find it an easy game to play, but it was kind of funny at times, especially when Barnsley had to figure out he was a gangster, Vicky was the pope and Robertson a clown.
Mouse in class
So far, I had managed to stay out of trouble, but it couldn't last forever. At some point, I was bound to find myself bent over in the headmistress' office. It started the next day in geography class. The little pet mouse, who lived in my pencil case, wanted to come out and walk about over my desk. Miss Prim didn't like him much and had told me on numerous occasions to keep him out of class. I kept him hidden with my sleeve, while writing the down the capitals of Scandinavia, but he managed to escape and jumped off the desk. I quickly bent down to grab him, but it was too late.
"Richard!" Miss Prim's voice reverberated through the classroom. "Bring it here, young man."
Mouse got locked away in a plastic container on the teacher's desk and I received my punishment after class in the headmistress' office. A dozen stripes on my bare bottom.
After the Wednesday barbecue, I invited everyone to a party in my room after 'lights out', but only Barnsley showed up. I don't know why nobody else came. Maybe they were too tired from the day's lessons, or they were afraid of being caught, or perhaps I should have taken a shower before passing on the invitations. Anyway, Barnsley and I listened to a bit of music and enjoyed plenty of pop, Pringles, chocolates and Jaffa cakes. We talked for a bit, but a conversation proved to be quite a challenge. For a foreigner, my English was pretty good, but for a native, his English was pretty rubbish!
About an hour later, three people burst into the room, Head Girl Dawson, Matron and Miss Prim, who held a heavy leather strap in her hands. Somehow they had gotten wind of the party plans and stayed up late in order to catch everybody, when the party would be in full swing. I'm not sure if Miss Prim was pleasantly surprised, disappointed, or just annoyed to find only two of us. Anyway, I was ordered to turn off the music immediately, remove the food and drink, and bend over the edge of the bed for a strapping. Barnsley received the same before he was sent back to his room, and both of us were promised a caning in the morning and defaulters after lessons.
Next morning after breakfast, Barnsley and I waited outside the headmistress' office, until she was ready and called us inside. After a telling off about bed time and illegal sweets, Barnsley was invited to bend over the headmistress' desk for six of the best. Miss Prim took a cane in hand and laid six firm swishes across the seat of his shorts. They must have hurt, but Barnsley managed to control himself well. Next, it was my turn. When I assumed the required position, a rattling sound emerged from my blazer. The headmistress removed a packet of fruity sweets from one of my pockets and she looked very cross.
"Do you have any more sweets?" she asked in a cold voice.
"No, Ma'am," I lied. Of course, I had more sweets, I had plenty, strategically hidden in various places and I wasn't planning to give them up so easily.
"You are most definitely on defaulters. Now bend over!"
She delivered six firm strokes on the seat of my shorts.
"Barnsley, you may go. Richard, take down your shorts."
I broke out in a sweat and felt my heart pounding as I pulled my shorts down and bent back over the desk. Miss Prim pulled my white underpants down, exposing my bottom to the cool air. It drew all my attention to the part of my anatomy that was about to be set on fire and a sense of shame stirred in my stomach. The headmistress swished her cane trough the air as if to test whether it was still strong and flexible enough for the task at hand, or perhaps it was just to instil fear into the disobedient pupil. A shiver ran along my spine.
"This is not the first time, I've caught you with sweets, young man. You know very well all sweets must be handed in to Matron. She will give you a few back during break times and after lessons, if you ask nicely. But, no, you want to eat sweets whenever you feel like it, don't you? Beware, young man! If I catch you eating sweets in class, this is what will happen to you, in front of everybody."
Miss Prim took position to my left. After an agonising moment of silence, she gave her cane a full swing. The impact brought tears to my eyes.
"One, Ma'am" I uttered after I caught my breath.
She withdrew the cane and brought it back again with a terrifying swish, sending another wave of pain through my backside. I clenched my fists as a muffled yelp of pain escaped me. My breathing became quick and irregular in fear of the pain that was still to come. The next four strokes were delivered swiftly, with equal force and great accuracy, marking the white skin of my bottom with Miss Prim's characteristic signature of six, evenly spaced, double, red lines.
"Do you want this to happen to you in class, six hard strokes on your bare bottom, in front of everybody?"
"No, Ma'am," I answered timidly.
"Then you better make sure, I do not catch you with sweets in class, young man. You may get up and dress yourself."
Miss Prim waited, while I pulled up my underwear and shorts over my throbbing bottom and clumsily readjusted my shirt.
"You are dismissed," she said finally and I quickly left the office.
Lessons commenced as usual. Mr Melman's verbal reasoning test didn't give me too much trouble and I got through Miss Prim's cider lesson without any incidents. The pain from that morning's caning faded away. During history, I ate a few cinnamon sweets, while reading through another sheet full of names and dates. I didn't want to get caught, but it was a lot less risky eating sweets in Mr Melman's class. He was generally easy going. He might have given me a warning, or maybe even a demerit, just as long as he didn't send me to the headmistress, I would be ok.
After break we went on a field trip to a local cider factory. A lady from the cider company explained how cider was produced and showed us the orchards, the apple squashing machinery, the large steel containers and wooden vats. After the tour, we were allowed to taste samples of different ciders. I took a tiny sip from some of the samples. To me they all smelled and tasted like apple juice that had gone horribly off, but Robertson, our Head Boy, was more than happy to take the samples off my hands. He became exceedingly cheerful and was singing and dancing all the way back to school, where Miss Prim, revoked his Head Boy privilege of wearing long trousers. He was forced to walk around in shorts again, much to his dismay and our amusement.
Getting into trouble
Back in class, Miss Prim wanted to finish off Sweden. We were behind schedule on the subject of Scandinavia and she was not in the mood for pupils messing about. Barnsley received several demerits and a fierce scolding for the mess on and around his desk. Caroline got six with the leather paddle for being annoyingly pedantic, and Fidge, who was playing with stones in his pocket, had them confiscated and his hands tawsed.
"The Kolen mountain range forms a natural boundary between Sweden and Norway full stop," dictated Miss Prim. "Richard, take that pen out of your mouth! The north of Sweden is less populated than the southern and central parts comma, mostly because of its colder climate full stop."
Dictation continued until Miss Prim received a call and had to leave the classroom for a moment. To keep us occupied, she gave us an assignment: "Take your atlas and look up the rivers that are in your facts list. I want you to draw them in the right location on the map in your exercise book."
Miss Prim left the classroom, while we browsed through our atlases looking for the Västerdal, Ume, Skellefte, and Dalälven. I dug some sweets out of my pocket and offered one to Fidge. With Miss Prim gone, there was no risk of getting caught. A few minutes later, she returned. The whispers died down, while the sound of chairs scraping over the wooden floor became louder as we rose from our chairs. "Stay seated. Has everyone found the rivers and marked them on the map? Excellent! Now, there are a few more sentences I want you to add to the general section... Toby Fidget! What have you got in your mouth!"
Fidge jumped off his seat. "I ehm... well.. a... a...sweet," he stuttered nervously.
"Where did you get it from?" continued Miss Prim's interrogation.
"I... I can't say, Ma'am," said Fidge, looking down. Lying was not one of Fidget's many talents.
"Richard?" Miss Prim's gaze turned to me. "Did you give sweets to Fidget?"
"Yes, Ma'am." It was no use denying it. Miss Prim already knew the truth.
"You are already on defaulters, young man," said the headmistress as she made another note in her book. "You can be certain it's going to be very unpleasant when I see you in my office this afternoon." The tone of her voice sent shivers through my spine.
"Fidget, out here!"
Miss Prim took her heavy leather strap and gave him a few hard licks on the seat of his shorts, after which the skittish young man returned, red-faced, to his chair, determined not to get into trouble again, well, at least for an hour or so.
Fidge forgot his good intentions when he found Mr Melman's teaching gown lying about in the playroom during break and decided to use it for a batman impersonation act. It was hilarious to watch the little guy running around the playground in an oversized, black, teacher's gown, frantically flapping his arms in an attempt to fly. Unfortunately, Matron caught him before he managed to take off and Mr Melman wasn't amused either. Fidge ended up on defaulters.
Prep was supervised by Mr Melman. In silence, we worked on our assignment, an essay about our excursion to the cider factory. I hated writing essays and I struggled to turn the few facts I remembered from the tour, into a coherent story. However, my life was not about to become any easier with the time for 'defaulters' rapidly approaching. Several pupils had already been sent to the office. We had heard the sound of the headmistress' angry voice shouting at Barnsley all the way from across the hall. It was followed by loud thuds from a leather strap descending upon his poor bottom.
Mr Melman looked up from his paper work when Barnsley returned to the classroom. "Richard, go to Miss Prim's office!"
I stood outside the headmistress office. With lead in my shoes and my heart pounding in my chest, I knocked on the door. "Enter!"
Miss Prim sat behind her desk. In front of her lay the book with the black cover, a strap, a tawse, and a cane. I walked into the room and stopped somewhere in the middle, keeping a fair distance from the desk. I fumbled uneasy with my hands behind my back.
Miss Prim waited several moments, before looking up from her book.
"Let's reiterate why you are here," she began. "You were caught last night, hosting a party in your room after 'lights-out'. You were caught this morning with sweets. You were caught this afternoon giving sweets to Toby Fidget in class, which means you also lied to me when you told me you didn't have any more sweets. Would you agree this is an accurate summery of your disobedience?"
"Yes Ma'am," I answered uneasy and looked away from the Headmistress' eyes.
"Take off your cap and blazer."
Miss Prim rose from her desk and walked towards me with a small wooden paddle in her hand. "You are very naughty and your addiction to sweets is going to cause you a very sore bottom, young man. Take your shorts down!"
I knew that paddle. It was Miss Prim's Victorian butter pad. It didn't look very impressive, but I knew from experience how wicked it was. I felt butterflies in my stomach, while I pulled my shorts down.
Miss Prim sat down on a chair and the next moment I found myself in a most vulnerable position, over her knee. She pulled my underpants down and smacked the paddle on my bare bottom. In rapid succession, the blows alternated between the left and right cheek. I twisted, turned and struggled.
"Yes, I know how much it hurts, young man. It will make you cry!" said Miss Prim while holding me securely in position and she continued to hit me.
"I may not be able to cure your addiction..." Whack! "...but I will not give up..." Whack! "...and every time I catch you..." Whack! "...I will spank you..." Whack! "...with this..." Whack! "...vicious..." Whack! "...paddle." Whack!
My muffled groans turned to sobs while the skin on my bottom turned bright red under the relentless blows.
At last, the spanking stopped, but that wasn't the end of my punishment.
"Over the desk!" commanded Miss Prim.
I stumbled over to the headmistress' large wooden desk, hindered by the shorts and underwear hanging around my knees. I bent over the edge, presenting my sore bottom for yet more punishment.
"I've already caned your bottom twice this term, but it doesn't appear to be very effective, does it?"
I didn't feel a strong urge to respond, as it couldn't possibly make my situation any better.
"Well, does it?" repeated the headmistress in a louder voice, indicating her impatience.
"No, Ma'am," I answered reluctantly.
"Perhaps I need to target a more sensitive area." Miss Prim tapped her cane on the back of my thighs.
I swallowed hard. My muscles tensed up. I felt cold sweat running down my sides. My bottom had toughened up over the past few years, but the skin on my legs was still as soft and sensitive as it was on my first day at school.
Miss Prim stepped back, gave her cane a good swish and landed it six centimetres below my bottom, on the back of my thighs. A split second later, the blinding white pain registered in my brain. I yelped and shot forward. My feet came off the ground and my entire weight rested on the teacher's desk. Involuntary I rubbed my legs together in a futile attempt to remove the sting.
"Stand up straight!" There was no compassion in the headmistress' voice.
As soon as I had reassumed the required position, the second stroke made its angry red mark, three centimetres above the first. The third savagely cut into the crease where bottom and thy meet. The stinging pain brought tears to my eyes and I barely managed to count the strokes.
"Am I getting through to you yet?" asked Miss Prim harshly.
"Yes, Ma'am. It hurts, Ma'am," I snivelled.
"It is supposed to hurt, young man. You are very naughty! It is bad enough that you have all these sweets, but lying to me is even worse."
The headmistress drew her arm back for another swish. I howled as a new welt appeared on the tender skin of my legs. It took a few more swishes, before Miss Prim was convinced it was really getting through to me.
"Do you have any more sweets?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I needed to confess, I certainly didn't want to lie anymore. I wanted to be good again.
"You are either very brave, or very foolish," sighed Miss Prim. "You will get all of your sweets and bring them here."
I went up to my room and tried to remember all of my hiding spaces. After I had gathered up all the sweets I could find, I took them back to the office. Miss Prim took the bag, filled with chocolate bars, banana sweets, wine gums, cinnamon sweets and smarties off my hands and shook her head in disbelief.
"Go back to the classroom and tell Mr Melman you have to write lines. You will write in your exercise book 'I am very naughty and disobedient'. You will be repeating this sentence for a very long time, until I tell you to stop. Is that clear?"
It was very clear and it was very embarrassing to have to inform Mr Melman in front of all the other pupils in class that I had to write lines. I wrote lines for a long time. At some point Fidge joined me. He had to write lines too. After a while, everybody left the classroom, except the two of us. Mr Melman left as well and Miss Prim entered. She sat down at the teacher's desk and started correcting essays. I felt very embarassed, writing lines in the classroom after school, with a sore bottom. When Miss Prim finally let us go, it was time for dinner.
End of term
I was well-behaved for the rest of the term, but to be fair, there was only half a day left. In the evening, we had a lovely campfire. Head Girl Clare Dawson taught us lots of funny songs, and I played fire master, throwing sticks and branches on the fire.
Next day was the end of the Summer term. It was time to pack our things and say goodbye, but not before the last demerits had been cleared off. Barnsley was the undisputed demerit champion and as a 'reward', he got twelve on the bare in front of everybody at final assembly.
Summer school had gone by too quickly. It had been a lot of fun and I felt sad to go back home, but I'll be back for the next school term.
This is an impression of a role-play event at Muir Academy between consenting adult schoolboys and adult schoolgirls. It is based on Richard's recollection of the event, and should be considered a work of fiction.
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