I referred in a recent memory post to an incident in the shower after a PE lesson, and thought it may be of interest if I went into more detail for the benefit of your readers. It was 1965 in a girls’ school I attended from 1961 to 1968; a good school but a strict one, where the slipper and other implements of punishment were in frequent but not daily use by teachers, and less common but more severe use by the headmistress and her two deputies.

Some teachers in the more junior classes gave a hand-spanking either in front of class or after, over the knee, with no limit to the number of smacks apart from the sting in the teacher’s hand. Most teachers, though, opted for the ‘slipper’. I have no idea why it was known as a slipper unless it was an adaption of expression comparing the item of footwear with a mother’s domestic slipper which might be used for similar purposes. The item was in fact a plimsoll normally worn on the foot for greater comfort and elasticity while its wearer was partaking in sport or Physical Education. Its comfort and elasticity doubled as an effective weapon in a teacher’s hand to provide a considerable sting to an unruly, misbehaving, or lazy pupil as punishment.

Sizes of plimsoll tended to vary with the very largest reserved for use by the headmistress and her deputies. Ordinary teachers could give up to five strokes of the slipper, deputy heads could give six with the larger slipper, and the headmistress could do what she liked but in fact never gave more than eight, and most often gave just six, which was quite enough, I can assure you.

PE teachers tended to have their own way of doing things, whilst the other teachers and the headmistress provided the necessary punishment over a girl’s skirt for juniors, or over school knickers for middle to senior school.

In the PE department one teacher in particular, Miss Martin, was very physical as befitted her occupation, I suppose. Any minor infractions or laziness during PE, games or swimming and she would come to the side of you, facing behind, reach round to your waist and with her left elbow push your back forward slightly and then smack your bottom up to six times alternating buttocks, over PE knickers or swimming costume. For more serious offences, she would have a slipper on hand to give you up to three or four whacks with you touching toes or bending over the vaulting horse. For the most serious offences she had a habit of inviting the errant girl recently out of the shower into the office and with the towel removed provide the appropriate number of strokes and enhanced sting to her bare wet bottom.

Worse still was a fate that befell my best friend Cathy and myself on one occasion. Cathy and trouble were rarely long separated. Cathy was what you might call a lively girl, never looking for trouble but always finding it, and if she found it the likelihood was that I would find it too. I was very lucky to have her as a friend, then and now, but my good luck led to bad luck on a number of occasions.

The communal shower had begun to empty out when Cathy slipped on the wet floor and grabbed whatever she could to break her fall. It happened to be the high-pressure supply hose which of course came loose. If she had left it there and explained, then the worst she might have got was a few slaps on her bottom for being so careless, but no. I have to say that our behaviour was more than a little boyish but it seemed like fun at the time, as Cathy started squirting it at me and I made a grab for the hose so I could return fire which ended up with two bodies on the shower floor trying to turn the jet on each other. Our teacher, though, Miss Martin thought it was less like fun and more like sheer naughtiness. She switched off the water and waded through the water towards us, shoes squelching. She was in one hell of a temper. She grabbed our arms in turn, turned us around, bent us over, and landed twelve hard smacks, three on each buttock.

“That was just for starters, I haven’t finished with you two yet.”

We were ordered out of the shower and then made to stand dripping by the table in the middle of the changing room, while she went to her office for the slipper. On her return, Cathy was told to bend across the table and with the whole class watching intently received five powerful whacks across her bottom with the plimsoll, and it really hurt her. The sound was like five pistol shots, amplified somehow by contact with her wet skin, and, as I was soon to find out, amplified with a far greater sting than usual. Though she took it well, except for a gasp and a couple of low moans, after the five Cathy stood up uninvited, and clutched her bottom.

“Did I tell you to get up, Catherine?”

There were tears in Cathy’s eyes as she tilted forward to receive six more smacks by hand for her disobedience, Miss Martin holding her by the waist.

I was fearful just watching and even more so as I took my turn across the table. It seemed to make quite a difference, being slippered on wet skin, both louder and more of a sting. The tears soon came but I was pleased that I did not contribute too much more than that to my humiliation. I stayed across the table until she told me to get up but with my bottom on fire, I failed to resist the temptation to soothe it, and Miss Martin could not resist the temptation to land six more hard smacks on it as she bent me forwards again.

We were instructed to stand facing the wall, side by side, hands on heads to exhibit our red bottoms to the class while they got dressed, as a warning to them all. They all filed out past us in silence on their way out.

The maintenance man and his apprentice arrived as the girls left, and we were told to get dressed quickly. Fortunately, we had dried off by then and were able to do so, though we had to dress in an alcove so they could not see us. Then we were told to sit down on the benches and wait while they fixed the water system. Sitting down was not easy but the usual trick of sitting on our hands after a slippering was only going to make it more obvious what had befallen us.

That became irrelevant as Miss Martin took great glee in explaining that the breakage had been the result of pure tomfoolery on our part and that said tomfoolery had been dealt with by a good hard dose of the slipper. The older man laughed but his young apprentice coughed and went red in the face. Our humiliation was almost complete as our faces went as red as our bottoms were; well, judging by Cathy’s anyway.

Cathy tried to object, claiming that she had just slipped and tried to grab hold of something; I knew she would, she always did. I tried to pinch her leg to stop her but it was too late. Miss Martin looked furious that her account was being undermined and ordered Cathy to fetch the slipper from her office.

“It looks like you need another dose, madam!”

Cathy was made to sit there holding the plimsoll until the maintenance man and his apprentice had finished, wondering how many more she was going to get, and fully aware of the fact that the prospect probably loomed large in their minds as well as hers. If it had been me, I would have wanted to crawl away and hide under a stone, mindful of course that I too had been identified as the second recipient of the ‘good hard dose’ previously administered and the men were fully aware of that too.

It was getting later and later as the apprentice was sent back to get another part. I did not know how many buses I was going to miss and whether there were questions I was going to have to answer when I got home. For me, almost always, trouble at school meant trouble at home in the form of my mother’s leather soled bedroom slipper.

At last, they finished; it was just a matter of how long it took Miss Martin to deal with Cathy for the new offence she had committed. I was guessing that I would not be allowed to leave until she did. Miss Martin snatched the plimsoll off Cathy.

“Don’t you dare argue with me or undermine what I am saying like that again. Now be gone, both of you.”

A lucky escape for both of us. Cathy avoided getting spanked by Miss Martin for a fourth time, and I was able to catch the bus that would get me home before my mother, thus avoiding her inquisition and her slipper. Lucky all round?

Jenny Tomlinson