Caning School for Girls

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A nine-year old boy entered. Slim in appearance, with blond hair and pale skin, he slowly walked up to my desk. I noticed that his uniform was neat and tidy. Towards the end of one summer term, when the bombings all over England had been really severe, the Head Mistress sent for me. Concerned about our safety she said that she thought that Molly and I would be much safer at school during the summer holidays, than in Norwich, and that she had written to our Mother to suggest this to her. I was STUNNED and couldn’t imagine anything worse. What did I care about bombings? I wanted to go home.

It seems surprising to me now that so many of the incidents I remember about the war are so humorous. Perhaps it’s true that subconsciously we only remember the things that we want to. But while most of those pupils were already looking forward to a nice and enjoyable weekend, a few had other thoughts on their minds. They would have to report to the headmistress’ office right after classes – to be punished. I soon discovered that I was to be known as 139 from now on – my second name. A little number tag was sewn on all of my clothes, and when we went to bed that night – little white beds all in a line, on three sides of a dormitory, and a row down the middle – I knew my bed by the white metal number plate 139 attached to the metal frame. I remember the day so clearly – standing in the living room with my Mother, listening to a special message on the wireless, and learning to our horror that we were at war with Germany. Tears ran down my Mother’s face. I of course could not grasp the full significance of the announcement, but she knew all too well the meaning of war. Our father had served in the army in WWI, in Ypres, France, and been gassed and wounded, and of course her thoughts flew to her son Keith, who she knew would be called on to serve. Our hands shook as we made a cup of tea and thought of uncles and friends who would have to join up and be sent who knows where. I was sleeping in what was called ‘Top Dorm’ by now, so I had a long way to go. I didn’t make a sound as I flew down the stone stairs, two steps at a time, with my heart in my mouth. I ran through the common room, across the play room and outside to the path beside the ‘little dorm’ where I had slept as a new girl. The path to the wooden gate which opened onto the road, led very close to the Head Mistress’s apartment. In fact, I could see through the big French doors in her living room as I crept by. As soon as I had the gate open I dashed across the road to the letter box, and my card was on its way.School corporal punishment has been banned, in theory, in some kinds of schools in at least some states of India. The legal situation is complicated. Much anecdotal evidence suggests that such bans are anyway not much enforced in practice, though it should also be noted that many press reports are misleading because they describe as "corporal punishment" events which are clearly not proper CP at all but random, even injurious, brutality. But, Woods, as much as that caning, given here and now, would quite probably teach you a few lessons, I think it would not cure the source of your current streak of misbehaviour.”

So this it was. Half of the culprits had been dealt with. On fridays with more pupils on report I’d used this time for a short break, but today, with only two more pupils waiting, I chose to continue right away. One particular Sports Day I remember very well, and I imagine so does she. Molly had won every race in which she had competed and at the end of the day made more trips up onto the stage to receive her prizes than any other girl. At the close of the ceremonies Molly was surrounded by admirers, when up walked the Head Mistress, who proceeded to gather up two thirds of Molly’s prizes saying, ‘It is not good for one girl to have all of these … we will put them away and use them again next year’. None of us could understand this reasoning but assumed it was CHARACTER BUILDING and let it go at that. Fletcher, Woods. You both know why you are here. Let me tell you I am disgusted! Smoking is one of the worst habits there is, and neither the school rules nor I myself have any tolerance for it. And you two won’t either, when I am done with you.”Woods, for you it will be eight strokes, too. Six with the junior cane, and two with the senior. Lift your skirt and assume the position, there, at the side of your fellow smoker!” As they complied, I could easily see that Caroline Fletchers Skirt was non-regulation. Colour and general style matched, but it ended a few centimetres above the floor. Jenny Woods skirt touched the ground as it should be. He took his caning well. I laid the strokes on with force, but he held tight to the desk, gasping at each impact, finally quite audibly for the last few strokes. He would be well-marked for the next days, and especially the two cuts I laid across his upper thighs would remind him of his crime every time he sat down.