School Paddlings

From: Eddie Knapps ([email protected])

(Originally posted to a mailing list. Reproduced with permission).

After all the denials from people, it was good to see a note from somebody who in fact did recall those paddlings and spankings at school in the '50s and early '60s, not only on the pants but on the bare! Though, by the time I got to CA in the late '60s, these were apparently banned, in my elementary and jr. high career in the south, the use of the paddle, ruler, and hand on student behinds was not that unusual, and though application of same to the bare bottom WAS the exception, it was certainly NOT unheard of!

I was witness to various bare bottom smackings, and, as I'll explain, got three myself (2nd, 6th, and 8th grade). In my experience, this was far more common with boys than girls (as paddlings were in any case). In the south, at least, girls were allowed, even in these extreme situations, to maintain a degree of modesty and keep their panties up (skirts thrown up to their shoulders), while boys got both their slacks and their underpants lowered, even in front of others of both sexes.

Spanking on the bare bottom was, essentially, at the discretion of the principal, coach, or teacher, and both male and female teachers employed this method. As I remember, a memo was sent home to the parents at the beginning of each school year, indicating that the district allowed corporal punishment, and parents had the right to forbid this for their kids, though few if any did (mine sure didn't!). Though it was not specifically mentioned, this permission implied that, if the misdeed was serious enough, the whacks would be applied on the bare.

I know in the district this continued through 9th grade, and heard that it occurred in high school as well, though there, rather than in the classroom (with the exception of gym), paddlings were conducted privately in the office of the Dean of Boys. Even in jr. high, as far as I ever knew, girls were no longer paddled, though boys certainly were--frequently. This was usually over the pants or gym shorts, though, as you'll see, in gym a rear end could be stripped naked, or spanked bare in the locker room. I did know of a couple cases where pants were lowered in the principal's office, and heard about a 7th grade teacher in another school--a woman--who took boys outdoors, made them drop their drawers, and paddled them bare bottom. Though, "officially," their classmates were not witness to these, in fact, the other kids would crowd around the windows and watch the whole thing take place.

In any case, here are my three experiences:

First off, you should know that both of my parents were strict disciplinarians, and employed corporal punishment freely. My mother spanked me till I was 12, and my father till I was 17 and graduated from high school. A spanking was always administered on the bare bottom, that is, with my pants and my underpants down, with me turned over mom's lap or dad's knee.

Both used their palms for punishment, though my mom also sometimes used a ruler, while my dad, when I was 13, introduced my behind to his wooden hairbrush, which he employed from then on and kept me in line all the way through junior and senior high. It stung like the devil! And believe me, I wiggled, kicked and cried just as lustily across his knee when I was a senior in high school as I did when I was nine or ten!

Spanking and paddling was also employed in school by teachers, coaches, and principals. Many was the time when I got my fanny popped for one thing or another, and many were the other rears that I saw get smacked as well. There were three instances in my growing up when the school spanking was administered on my bare bottom with other students looking on.

The most memorable of these was probably when I was 12 and in the 6th grade, when David B and I were spanked by Mr. Korby for fighting. This would have been in the spring of l963. David and I ran with the same crowd, which is to say, we lived in the same neighborhood. He was new, as I had been the previous year.

I don't know why we didn't like each other, but we didn't, and I think there was a kind of struggle between us to see if I could maintain the kind of loyalty of the local boys, or whether he would get it.

In the South, both at home and school, spanking was not that uncommon a punishment, even for girls, much less for boys. Most everybody I knew then got spanked, tho my dad had the reputation for being stricter than most. Some teachers spanked, especially the men (though they were usually, at that time, the coaches, tho my science teacher, Mr. Thompson, had a paddle that he used on us), and the principals certainly did. The paddle was a much a part of schooling as reading, writing and arithmetic.

Anyhow, over the course of the 6th grade, David and I had been sent twice to Mr. Kirby for "fighting". Now this was, of course, just kind of pushing and shoving and that kind of thing. Actually, I guess it was three times. The first time, he just lectured us, but said he would give us "a good paddling" if this ever happened again. We were scared, but kids have short memories.

The second time, he was as good as his word. I guess he whalloped both our bottoms half-a-dozen times, bent over through our pants, and it hurt! And, of course, our parents were told, which means we both got a spanking at home, though David's parents were divorced, which means his mom spanked him, whereas I got my pants taken down and a sound hand blistering from my dad for getting in trouble at school.

A couple mos. later, there we were in the office again, and this time, it was a longer session. Mostly it was Mr. Kirby shouting. The threats may have been as bad as the whipping. It was probably 7 or 8 swats this time, and we both cried, even tho we didn't want to. He held us down across his desk so we were pretty much on tiptoe, and smacked our rears HARD with his paddle, which was oblong and probably about 3/4 of an inch thick. Again, our parents were notified, and I got another spanking when my dad got home that night.

The last time David and I got into it was on the playground almost before school was out. Again, it was pushing and shoving, and Miss Stevens sent us to the office. This time, Mr. Korby wasn't going to fuck around. He was probably 40 (it's hard to know when you're a kid and anybody over 16 looks like a grown up). He made us cool our heels for what seemed like forever (it seems like recess for us was about noon, and it must have been 1:30 before he finally brought us in). The first thing he told us was that he had talked to David's mother at work, and my mom at home, and told them what was going to happen, and that my mom had called my dad who had called him from work. If I had known the expression then, I would have known "my ass was grass."

Mr. Korby shouted at us for a while, and reminded us that we had been in his office before for this, and said he guessed we didn't really remember what had happened to us, and that in his school, there would be no fighting, not now, not ever, etc. etc.

Then, instead of the paddle, he took a ruler out of his desk. He went to the door, and he called in the secretary. She was about 45 maybe, and really nice. She came in with this kind of sad look on her face. That was maybe the scariest thing to happen yet, because I think both David and I realized this was not going to be your average paddling, and I think, young as we were, we knew that if you were bringing somebody into watch, it must mean this was going to be something truly terrible.

She closed the door, and stood there, and then he grabbed me by the collar out of the chair I was sitting in there in his office, spun me around, grabbed the chair and slammed it down on the floor, and picked up the ruler off his desk, yelling the whole time. Then, to my horror, he opened my belt, and I realized he was going to pull down my pants! With one mighty yank, he swept both my slacks and my jockey shorts to my knees, and I was standing there for a split second with prick exposed. He then swung me over his lap, pushed my pants and underpants even further down, and I remember him saying: "YOUNG MAN, THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN!"

And then WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!--he used that ruler to truly BLISTER my little bottom! I was really embarrassed, and really in pain. It is not that I wasn't accustomed to being bare bottom when I got spanked, even in public, but that was something my daddy did. And the secretary was there, and David too. He must have been terrified, watching what was happening to me and knowing he would be next.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Mr. Korby gave me a real good, old-fashioned spanking on my bare bottom there in his office. I was crying and kicking just like when my dad did it. It hurt a lot, and since it was somebody other than my dad, I think that made it worse. I had been popped on the bottom many times by neighbors and so on, but I don't think since I was much younger (8 actually, I think, but you know how when you're a kid three or four years seems like an eternity)--that is, over somebody's lap with my pants down like your dad did it.

Anyway, he gave me a real licking. My legs were windmilling and I was bawling my eyes out. I could have given a damn that the secretary or David was there, my fanny was so sore. He finally yanked me crying up off his lap, gave me a good, hard shaking, and then stood me blubbering with my forehead against the wall.

He then did exactly the same thing to David. One thing I remember as I got sput around the face the wall is the secretary there with her fingers to her lips, as if she really couldn't stand that she had to watch two boys get that kind of spanking.

Since I had my nose to the wall, I actually didn't see David get his spanking, but I sure heard it! He got the same treatment I did, and was wailing plenty, and I'm sure his bottom was just as red. Then, Mr. Korby put David up next to me after he spanked him, and he honestly had us stand there with our pants down and our little red bottoms exposed while he yelled at us somemore. I was still sniffling and David was bawling his eyes out. He sent the secretary out, but kept us there for what seemed liked an hour but was probably only ten minutes or so, and then told us both to pull up our pants.

Then he gave the sniffling pair of us ANOTHER lecture, about how we were going to be in junior high school next year, and how they spanked MUCH harder there, and that we were young MEN who had to learn self-control (big word!) and if we ever, in the next few weeks, were back in that office again, he would take do exactly what he had done to us this time, except he would first take us back to the classroom and pull our pants down and put us over his knee in front of all our classmates.

We didn't fight again, and we both got it at home that afternoon. Walking home was agonizing that day, and that was one of the half-dozen times I remember my mother made me stand in the corner in the living room waiting for my dad. That WAS a long time, probably more than an hour, and I remember when I heard his car drive up I was sniffling already. Of course, he had talked to Mr. Korby, and after the door slammed, and he had talked to my mother, he simply came in and pulled me out of the corner, pulled my pants down, and took me over his lap sitting in the "black chair" in the living room. I don't think anybody in the family watched. Both my sister (who was a ninth grader by then) and my little brother (who was in, I guess, third rade) steered clear. They really DID feel sorry for me. Dad gave me a good licking on the bare bottom, and already having a tender little fanny, I kicked and cried good, and didn't get any supper that night. He yelled at me to, about getting in trouble at school and why hadn't I learned my lesson and did he have to spank my fanny every blessed day for me to straighten up and how he never wanted to hear about me fighting at school again and he NEVER wanted to get a calll at work about how I had misbehaved.

He made me stand in the corner too with my pants down for a few minutes, and then sent me upstairs. I thought at the time that I never wanted something like that to happen again, tho it did.

So, that's my principal story, tho then there is the coach when I was in the 8th grade--my last bare bottom spanking at school. I guess I should say that the first was in my 2nd grade classroom, when Terry McD. and I were talking in class after Miss Carter had been having a bad day. She yanked us both out of out chairs, and, one after the other, pulled down our pants and gave us probably 6 or 8 handswats on our naked bottoms in front of the whole class, and then yanked our pants up again and sent us to opposite corners by the blackboard, where we stood for the next several minutes. Terry didn't cry, but I did, more from embarrassment than pain, I think. I liked Miss Carter, and I guess I was ashamed.

She actually spanked quite frequently employing her hand. This was one of those instances where girls got their skirts taken up and spanked on their panties, but boys got it on their bare bottoms.

Now, the 8th grade story.

At the junior high I went to, spankings still occurred, tho they were usually paddlings, and they were done by the Principal, the Asst. Principal, or the Coaches. I got paddled by both of the former a couple of times for misbehaving (you got sent with a "referral" to the office, and the Asst. Principal in particular had a very mean paddle). This was usually 3 to 10 swats with a paddle on the seat of your pants (not jeans--we couldn't wear jeans), bending over. You could be spanked for endless things--mouthiness, disrespect, so on and so forth. Boys got spanked sometimes for pissing on the radiators (the boys' rooms always reeked of piss--some early water sports action, I guess). Most all of us got paddled that way at some time or another.

Again, Mr. Hunter (the principal), the Asst. Principal and the coaches were mostly men in their forties, tho one of the coaches was younger.

Anyway, in the 8th grade, Mr. S. was our coach, and we knew he paddled, as they all did. He would spank boys in front of the class, usually three swats on the gym shorts, tho we knew too you could be spanked with your pants down (I had seen the results in the previous year when Coach F. took Danny Lisk, who was a 9th grader, into the office and swatted his bottom half a dozen times with the paddle and then sent him back--he was trying to be easy about it but his eyes were red and you could literally see the paddle marks on his behind). Probably just a week before this experience Mr. S. had swatted two boys, Coleman and Fred, in front of the class for screwing around, though this was over their gym shorts.

One thing Coach S. could not stand was snapping towels. I don't know why it was this fetish of his, but it was. We were all, in eighth grade, thirteen or fourteen, and feeling our oats, and he had warned us again and again that he'd "whip our butts" if we didn't cut it out. That particular afternoon, Henry S. and Doug L. and me got into it. Do you remember the "rat tail?" It was when you rolled your towel sort of diagonally so you could get a really vicious tip on it, and if you got smacked on the rump by a rat tail, you really KNEW it. It left a welt.

Anyway, the three of us, who were locker neighbors, got into a towel fight. Henry played football in the fall, and was a heavy set and hairy guy. He had gotten his growth early. Doug was the son of an American solider and a Filipina woman. He was stocky, but had this smooth brown skin and a real ivory colored bottom, completely smooth, that I remember to this day. I was a slight kid with a big rump beginning to hair out and we were smacking towels at each other--mostly our bottoms admittedly--when the Coach cruised through and caught us.

"You wait right here!" he shouted, and then went back to the office.

Everything in the locker room got kind of quiet. I remember Bobby B. (who was kind of a big, hairy nerd everybody made fun of) looking at me and the other two with this kind of sad, helpless expression in his eyes. The Coach came back with what we expected, which was his paddle--about half an inch thick, varnished, with holes in it (Did coaches back then have someplace they could order these through, or was this a class they took at college, or did they all have their own woodshops?). He took the three of us by the neck and pushed us down over the bench between the lockers one by one--far, so all our bottoms were way up in the air. All our classmates were watching. We were naked and scared. He gave Henry three fast, hard swats, then me, then Doug. Then he started to go down the row. SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!

We were all three yelping. He was hitting hard. He went down the row at four more times, then gave us each three hard swats on top of that!

"Are we gonna have anymore towelsnapping!" Mr. Stanback shouted. "ARE WE!"

That was not just for us, that was for the class. And we squealed "No, Sir! No, Sir!" as did a number of other boys who hadn't been spanked. All three of us were more than teary when we stood up. Our butts were fiery red. After a total of 21 smacks with that paddle, you can imagine!

What happened was all over the school within an hour, and, tho Doug got off, both Henry and I got spanked at home for getting in trouble at school, he with the belt and me with the hairbrush. That may have been the one time I think my dad went easy on me. The Coach had really hit us hard, and I think there were bruises on my bottom when my dad took my pants down. He didn't approve of that. He told me a long time later that he thought that Coach of mine in the 8th grade was a real bastard, and I think he was right. Still, tho, I got spanked with the hairbrush bare bottom when my dad got home, because you weren't supposed to get in trouble with your teachers.

So, those are the tales of my bare bottom spankings at school. Would be interested in hearing of any of your own experiences or those your witnessed, or other responses you've gotten.

Best regards,
Eddie Knapps

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