Mrs Dixon looked over the referral form, which described the reason I’d been sent to her office. I sat nervously in the chair facing her desk. I was a new student at this school since my family had moved from Arizona to Florida over the preceding summer. I was only four weeks into my junior year and already managed a trip to the principal’s office. I did have a knack for getting into trouble during my teens.

“Well Jamie, as you’ve probably already guessed, we don’t tolerate that kind of language here, especially from girls. And it’s definitely not a good idea to drop the f-bomb within earshot of Mrs Hill. She is especially offended by profanity.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m sorry. I don’t normally talk like that, it just slipped out.”

“I understand Jamie. You just happened to let it fly in the wrong place, at the wrong moment. Unfortunately for you, profanity has been problematic enough that it is now considered a major offense. What that means is that I can’t just let you off with a warning to watch your language.”

“Yes ma’am, I understand.”

“Good. Now the important part. You have two options for disciplinary action. Your first option is Saturday detention. You’d come to school Saturday morning at 8.00 am and be dismissed at noon. You’d sit in a classroom and remain quiet and awake the entire time. You could read, or study as long as you stay quiet and don’t go to sleep.

“Your second option is corporal punishment. Since it’s an alternative to a Saturday detention, you’d take four swats with the paddle.”

“I’ll definitely take the paddling.”

Mrs Dixon seemed slightly taken aback at my quick response.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to decide right now. I handle disciplinary matters after school at 3.15. It allows for greater privacy that way. Come back to the office at 3.15 and you can let me know your decision then.”

She then dismissed me.

The decision was easy for me because it was a familiar one. The principal of my previous school was named Mr Bailey. I had gotten myself sent to his office about a dozen times. Mostly for small things. I was always given a choice there too. I always chose the paddle.

Mr Bailey conducted corporal punishment in a very particular way. Much like Mrs Dixon, he did it after school. He kept two separate paddles, one for the boys and one for the girls. The girls’ paddle was bright white, and made from molded plastic. It was sixteen inches long, had a three inch wide blade, and was an eighth of an inch thick. As light as it may sound, getting spanked with that paddle was not something I enjoyed. Mr Bailey’s procedure for paddling made the experience very uncomfortable.

He required us to wear our gym shorts when we got paddled. This was because they were made of a thin polyester that provided no real padding to speak of. When you were scheduled to be paddled you’d show up at the office in your gym shorts and wait outside until he called your name. Then you’d enter and close the door behind you. There would be a stool in the middle of the room. You’d bend over the stool, grab the legs, and hold on until he told you to get up. I always hated that position because it left my most tender spots vulnerable to the paddle, and because I found it really embarrassing. He’d usually remind you of how many licks you were getting, then he’d lay them on one at a time until he was finished.

One or two licks from that paddle could definitely get my attention, but he never gave that few. I usually got at least six from him. Even more on a couple of occasions. The more licks I took the more bite it had to it. Mr Bailey could always get a few whimpers and grunts out of me. I suppose that told him I was learning my lesson.

After the paddling was over there would be a residual sting that would linger for about fifteen to twenty minutes. Then it would give way to a tingling sensation. Which, if I’m being honest, actually felt pretty good. Not good enough to be worth the licks I had to take to get it though. I’d go home and check my backside in the mirror afterwards and it would usually be a dark pink in color. Sometimes even a light red depending on how many I got. With that in mind it didn’t seem like a big deal only getting four swats.

I was so accustomed to this method of discipline that I assumed it would be pretty much the same at my current school. Since I thought I knew what to expect I wasn’t really nervous. In fact, in a small way, I was almost looking forward to it. My first paddling at the new school felt like some rite of passage I was about to undertake.

At 3 o’clock the dismissal bell rang. Everyone made their way toward the school exits. I made my way to the girls’ gym locker room. I changed into my gym outfit. The outfit consisted of a white t-shirt and green nylon shorts. The shorts were very thin just like at my old school. I also tied my long brown hair in a ponytail. I learned to do that after the first time I had to bend over a stool and my hair hanging in my face added to the discomfort. Even with taking the time to prepare accordingly, I still made it to the front office with two minutes to spare.

Seated beside me were a girl named Melissa, and a boy named Zack. Neither of them were in their gym clothes, so I assumed that they would pick the Saturday detention. I didn't judge them for it. Everyone has preferences. Mrs Dixon called the three of us into her office.

“I’ll keep things simple,” she said. “Raise your hand if you’d rather take the Saturday detention.”

As I expected, Zack and Melissa both put a hand up.

“You two are dismissed.”

She addressed me once they left the room.

“Jamie, you want to take the paddling, is that correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” I replied confidently.

Mrs Dixon had me sign a paper saying that I chose corporal punishment in lieu of Saturday detention.

After putting away the paper she reached into the bottom drawer of her file cabinet and pulled out the paddle. That was when I realized my huge mistake.

“What about the girls’ paddle?” I asked, the shock and horror evident in my voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, this is the same paddle I use on everyone.”

“Oh,” was the only response I could muster.

The monstrosity in her hands was nothing like what Mr Bailey used. It was made of wood that had a medium brown color to it. It looked about eighteen inches long with probably eight of that carved into a handle. Its blade was four inches wide and about half an inch thick. That wasn’t even the worst part of it though. The blade had a pattern of holes drilled through it. Quick multiplication revealed thirty two in total. I knew from experience that the part of a paddle with the most bite to it is the edges. So many more edges on this one combined with no air resistance during the swing was sure to make this an awful experience.

Mrs Dixon began her instructions.

“Alright Jamie, you’ll need to stand about a foot and half away from the desk. Plant your feet shoulder width apart, then bend over until your elbows are resting on the desktop.”

I positioned myself as I was told, and Mrs Dixon walked around behind me. I felt her line the paddle up on my bottom and tap it a couple of times.

“Get ready.” she told me.

I braced myself as she drew the paddle back.

The first swat landed and shot an unbelievable wave of pain through my body. I yelped loudly and jumped up, rubbing my backside furiously.

“Jamie, get back in position,” she admonished.

I did so, and quickly the second swat made contact. I screamed out as I swung my hips to the side and buckled my knees, almost dropping to the floor. Mrs Dixon let her displeasure at this be known.

“Jamie, if you would hold still we would have been done by now. If you don’t stay in position for these next two then I’m going to add an extra penalty swat. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” I croaked out as tears streamed down my face.

It took a lot of willpower but I forced myself to stay in place for the next two swats. I didn’t want to take any more than I absolutely had to. When she was finished I stood up and she handed me some tissues to dry my face with. My bottom felt like I had sat on hot coals. A throbbing sensation also accompanied the burning. It probably took me about fifteen minutes to finally calm down enough to leave.

When I arrived home that day I went straight upstairs to my room. I decided that I needed a good hot shower after everything I’d experienced that day. In my bathroom I stripped off my clothes, and decided to survey the damage in the mirror. What I saw shocked me. My backside was a gradient of crimson and maroon. Directly on the creases where my butt meets the back of my thighs were purple bruises with white spots in the center. They looked like the bullseye on a dart board. This was not at all what I had been accustomed to after a paddling.

I wish I could say that day was my only trip over Mrs Dixon’s desk. Unfortunately, I received another paddling later that year which was even worse. That’s a story for another time.

The End

© Paul Tecres 2025