I went to an all girls’ school in South London. It was a state school for 11 to 16 year olds and corporal punishment was still used. I don’t remember it being that regular an occurrence, but girls were slippered by the Deputy Headmistress, Miss H, or by the PE staff. The headmistress, Mrs A, used the cane.

I was slippered several times during my time in the school and had been caned by Mrs A, once in year 1 (age 11 or 12) and again in year 2 (age 12 or 13). For younger girls, we bent over her desk and three strokes were administered across the bottom. Skirts were left in position, although she made sure we bent right across her desk so our skirts and the knickers underneath were tightly stretched. They didn’t get in the way.

The cane as I remember it stung but didn’t leave marks on the bottom. It was quite a whippy cane and you could hear it swish through the air before it landed. The swish seemed to last for quite a while so I assume she pulled it up and back and brought it down in an arc. She was quite an athletic lady and had, I think, been a rower in her younger days. These visits made me yelp and I would end up rubbing my bottom after leaving her office before returning to class.

For more senior girls, year 3 and upwards, Mrs A used a slightly thicker cane. It made a different sound as it whipped through the air and the effect on the backside was very different.

My story starts with me and my two friends. We weren’t really smokers but it was cool to be seen as one so we occasionally got a packet of fags (cigarettes) and smoked them round the back of one of the buildings. You could see people coming from this position and the smoke went into a recess which meant we were pretty much hidden from view. We were usually on the lookout for teachers, but rarely did any come round that part of the building during break times.

On this occasion I had bought the fags, a packet of 10, and they were in my school bag. We lit up and were in the process of puffing away when we got careless. We were too busy giggling when Mrs D, our Biology teacher, caught us red-handed. She made us put out our fags and we were taken to the Deputy Headmistress’s office. At that point, thinking it would be a slippering for us all, we said we were sorry and braced ourselves. However, Miss H wanted to check our bags and the other seven fags in the packet were discovered in my school bag. I remember her words clearly.

“J, you will go and see Mrs A after school. She will deal with you. Year 4 girls caught with cigarettes will be caned.”

I was horrified and my mouth went dry. Earlier in the year Mrs A had made it clear in an assembly that older girls had been seen smoking in school uniform and that she would cane anyone found with cigarettes on them. She had said six strokes would be given. There had been spot checks in year 4 and year 5 classes for a few weeks after, but as usual nothing much came of it and the fuss died down.

The Deputy Headmistress, Miss H, kept my two friends, P and V, in her office and dismissed me. I waited outside as the two girls got a walloping with the plimsoll. They each got 6, not too difficult to count them, and the yelps were familiar to anyone who passed that office. Their skirts had been raised, they told me, and they got the slipper over their knickers. We went to the loo when they came out and their bottoms were indeed pretty red and sore but they were still quite cheerful and we giggled.

I remember apologising when we were late for out next lesson and the teacher and class had that knowing look. In the back of my mind, however, was my trip later that day to Mrs A. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be giggling then.

I sat outside Mrs A’s office at 4.00 pm and was called in pretty much as soon as I had sat down. My fags were on her desk and she read the riot act; “School disrepute, surprised at your behaviour, you were not listening in my assembly, I will teach you a lesson,” and so it went on. I heard the words, but all I could really focus on was the cane which was on her desk next to the punishment book and the chair in the middle of her office. I had heard of senior girls’ canings by rumour, but details were sketchy.

Mrs A told me to hang my grey blazer on the hook behind her office door and she guided me to the chair which I stood behind. I was then bent over the back of the chair. My arms drooped over the back of the chair and my hands were flat on the seat, so the top of my breastbone and armpits were in effect resting on the top of the back of the chair. My feet were a couple of feet away from the chair legs and my bottom was sticking out as my back was straight.

Mrs A lifted my grey skirt and it lay across my back. Being summer time I had no tights on and so my pale blue knickers (we didn’t have regulation knickers so that is the colour I had on that day) were tight across my bottom. Cotton knickers were no protection at all. I turned my head and must have looked quite shocked as I did not expect my skirt to be raised. You hear about these things but it comes as a shock to have your bottom exposed in such a way.

I heard Mrs A take the cane off the desk and felt it gently lined up across the centre of my bottom.

“Six strokes for smoking and distributing cigarettes,” she declared. Very matter of fact.

I remember the swish, very different to the sound I heard in the lower part of the school, and then the thud as it collided with my bottom. The pain was something else. I felt as if I had been set on fire with a branding iron. I literally yelped with the pain and my fingers clenched around the side of the chair seat, knuckles white as if on a big-dipper at the fun fair.

It wasn’t long before the second stroke came down and the pain exploded again, but lower down. I was wriggling and yelping but tried to concentrate on the wooden chair seat. There were intricate curls carved into the seat, as I recall through my watering eyes.

The third stroke was low down and again I cried out but had to stand up. That part of my bottom was fleshy and it really stung like mad. I bent my knees and danced around but the fire was still there. I rubbed my bottom and pleaded with my eyes to Mrs A, who remained very stoic.

Mrs A waited for me to compose myself and she tapped the chair, a sure indication she was ready to complete the punishment. I knew better than to try and get out of it. I had done the crime and she had been clear what would happen in assembly.

The fourth stroke was higher up nearer the centre of my bottom and it felt sore but not as bad. However, the final two felt the most painful, but I guess it was because they were both low down, designed I would think to make siting a painful experience for a day or so (that was achieved) and also because they crossed over each other and one of the previous strokes. The idea you get six parallel lines was not the case for me.

I stood between stroke five and six to rub and dance again and Mrs A took her time, but I did get them all and there was no question of her going easy on me.

For those interested, the purple welts were very visible at home that evening and I could see the pattern of each stroke. The area in between the ridges, which stood proud, were crimson or deep red. To this day, I can relive that punishment and know that it was well deserved. I did return for another visit to Mrs A’s office in year 5 where I once again got six of the best over my knickers (they were white that day!) and that visit was just as painful.

It is worth saying that I had great respect for my teachers and never held any punishment against any of them. From my point of view, we were not regularly caned or slippered and when we were it was pretty much fair and well deserved. My mum and dad of course found out and told me I deserved it. They didn’t spank me at home but were supportive of the teachers and the school.

J