My West Midlands all-girls grammar school, back in the 1970s, was known for being strict. There were things you had to do, and things you were not allowed to do. For example, the school uniform of grey pleated skirts in autumn and winter, and red gingham pinafore dresses in the summer term, plus red blazers, had to be immaculate. Shoes had to have low heels, be black in colour and be well polished. You had to walk on the left along the corridors, stand up whenever a teacher entered the room and many other things.

Punishments were mainly writing lines and detention, served on Thursday evenings. Some teachers kept a slipper (thin-soled plimsole), but I don’t recall any teacher with a reputation for using it excessively. The headmistress was known to have a cane, yet in my entire seven years there I only ever heard of one girl receiving it. I can only remember witnessing three girls being slippered, and I had never come close myself.

One day when I was in the third year, aged thirteen I think, I mislaid a particular textbook. I thought I must have lost it. There wouldn’t be a great problem getting issued with a replacement, but it would mean a one-hour detention, my first ever detention. Our form teacher, Mr H, had called the end of school register and left the room along with the rest of the girls. Finding myself alone, I did a really stupid thing and went to another girl’s desk, opened it and found her copy of the textbook, which I then put into my desk.

The following day, the girl of course found her textbook was missing. She was sent to the office to get another copy, and awarded a one-hour detention for losing her original copy. I felt rather guilty about her getting the detention, naturally, but not altogether sorry that I’d avoided getting it myself.

Several days later, after Mr H gad called the first register of the day and sent us to assembly, he stopped me and handed me my original copy of the textbook, discovered by the cleaners. It was clearly mine because it had a paper with my name on it inside. He asked me for an explanation. I had no alternative but to confess. Mr H told me to see him after school.

At the end of the school day and all the other girls were on their way home, Mr H and I were alone. I remember feeling extremely ashamed, but not really scared. I fully expected to be handed a one-hour detention, maybe even two, but having to face up to my wrongdoing was the biggest concern.

I was standing next to Mr H, at the side of his desk, and he gave me a really severe telling-off. When he stopped speaking, I thought that might be the end of it and that I was going to avoid a detention. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

He announced that he was going to give me five whacks with the slipper. I was aghast.

I thought about appealing, protesting even, but couldn’t actually think exactly what to say. I could hardly claim it was unfair. I’d caused another girl to serve a detention that she completely did not deserve. I wished I’d been sensible, admitted I couldn’t find my own textbook and served the detention myself. But it was too late for that.

By then, Mr H had found his slipper in a drawer in his desk and was getting to his feet. He told me take my blazer off and bend over one of the desks in the front row. It was the summer term, hence I was wearing just a thin cotton gingham dress under my blazer. I was still thinking what to say that would get me out of it, but nothing came to mind. I turned round and chose the nearest desk. Quickly looking round showed me that Mr H was now right behind me. I slipped off my blazer, placed it on the neighbouring desk and bent over.

The five whacks were delivered in quick succession across the seat of my thin dress. The sound of each whack seemed loud, and each gave me a smarting, stinging sort of sensation; painful, but not long-lasting. I think I did rub my bottom afterwards, but the most painful part was my shame at what I did. I still cringe to this day.

Celia J