Wednesday, April 22, 2015

VOICES




Man! I remember when I was fourteen and hadn't been spanked in probably four years and was feeling a little too grown up and out of the woods as far as having to worry about my Dad giving me a spanking when I acted like a jerk or got in some kind of trouble. I even remember on more than one occasion actually thinking to myself that I had outgrown spankings because it had been so long since I'd been given one or been threatened with one. In fact, in the last four years I'd done plenty that should have earned my butt some discipline but instead my parents would "Put me on Restriction", or give up privileges, etc. Things had quietly gotten very tame and laid back when it came to my discipline without me taking too much notice. I don't know if that made me cocky or willing to take stupid chances or what, but I began pushing my parents limits more and more and feeling more and more arrogant and was quickly getting used to the idea that from then on, I could stop wondering if I was or wasn't too old to spank.
One day after a loud argument with my Mom during which I said some pretty awful stuff, I was shocked out of my false sense of security when, after Dad had arrived home from work and we had finished a quiet dinner during which no mention of my filthy, smart mouth remarks earlier that day was made by my Mom, I was subjected to the embarrassment of being marched to my bedroom without warning by My Dad who said nothing and was calm but who I could tell was very, very angry by the way he jerked me by the arm all the way down the hallway. Once in my room, Dad sat on the edge of my bed pulling me over so I was standing directly before him. Then to my utter disbelief, Dad reached up, unfastened my jeans and pulled them to my ankles followed quickly by my underwear and then yanked me over his knee before I could really process and come to grips with the shocking truth that not only had I not outgrown being spanked, but to my horror getting older only meant that now that my spankings had returned, I should expect them to be much, much more severe!



I remember back in the day third grade, my whole class had to line up to get paddled--several times. The good got it along with the bad! When I think back at the 'weapons' my teachers used all through elementary school, (boat oars, fan belts) I cringe. But...we didn't have disruptive kids in school the way it is today. Heaven forbid the teacher would spank your rear, then tell your parents on YOU! Then you'd get it some more once you got home! That discipline didn't kill me but only made me a strong woman and a disciplined mom! I get my best laughs thinking back on those good old days! Nowadays, the teachers and the parents would be arrested for child abuse if they paddle these unruly kids of today. Some need a good old fashion butt whipping, teachers and parents need to take back control over the kids.



 I think it was Friday morning and I was grading tests during my 1st block planning period. the assistant principal on my hallway came by my room and asked if I was certified, I replied yes and he asked that I come to his office with him. I had no idea what was going on (as it turns out, in order to paddle a student, an administrator has to have a  certified teacher witness)
when I entered the office, the student was sitting down and looked very nervous
Principal: Well Mr. So and so, I've brought Mr Jimenez in here to serve as a witness for what is about to take place. You are about to receive 3 licks to your buttocks for skateboarding in the hall today. You have chosen the 3 licks over 2 days of in-school detention. Are there any questions?
Student: Um....I guess not.... (very scared)
Principal: Alright then Mr. So and so, go ahead and stand up, place your hands on my desk and put your buttocks out (grabs the paddle and slaps it against his hand as a warm up)
::Student awkwardly places hand on the desk, arms trembling::
Principal: Are you sure you want to go through with this? You look a little nervous.
Student: Yes sir I am.
Principal: Can you tell that I am not nervous in the slightest?
Students: Yes sir I can.  (at this point I pull the bandanna i am wearing around my neck for spirit day in order to hide my GIGANTIC smile)
Principal: Well I guess we can call your mom and see if she wouldn't mind you taking the 2 days in-school detention instead? Would you like to do that?
Student: Yes sir, please, I'd really like to talk to my mom (voice is trembling)
::Calls mom on speaker phone, mother expresses how she doesn't want him to have ISD b/c 9 weeks test are next week and after school detention would inconvenience her in having to pick him up....during this whole conversation, the principal is literally holding the paddle and STRETCHING his arm, like his getting ready to lift some weights::
Principal: Well Mr so-and-so, it appears your mother wants to go through with this, lets get this over with.Put your hands on my desk and stare at that picture of my daughters in the window frame....knowing that I have paddled them as well, and let that comfort you (at this point I am using all self control I have to keep from bursting out laughing)
The principal gives the kid 3 licks....hard.
Principal: Now that wasn't so bad no was it?
Student: The first one hurt really bad, and now it stings.
Principal: Get back to class.
After the student left, me and the principal laughed for a good 5 minutes before i left to continue grading my tests....oh corporal punishment...what an elusive beast you are




I got paddled for getting in a fight with a bully. Principal said he had to whack both of us, but he really wanted to shake my hand.


For no apparent reason, I recently found myself wondering about the state of corporal punishment within the American educational system.  I grew up in a time when corporal punishment was a well accepted and oft administered practice, the exercise of which could be found in nearly every school teacher’s tool kit for maintaining order, decorum, and a focus on learning in their classrooms.
I wish I could say that I was surprised, when after a conducting a quick Google search on the topic, I learned that corporal punishment is not only discouraged in today’s overly litigious society, but that it has now been declared to be illegal in 22 states.  Such a shame; for it worked so well.
The autumn of 1966 found me enrolled in my junior high school’s Industrial Arts class.  Industrial Arts, more commonly known as “Shop“, was on virtually every boy’s short list of elective classes to take.  It being the course in which one learned the basics of woodworking, along with the use of table saws, band saws, lathes, drill presses, and belt sanders.  Before being turned lose in the shop, the curriculum at my school included six weeks of technical drawing or drafting.   This was a necessary prerequisite to flipping the switch on a band saw because we were required to create a detailed three-dimensional orthographic design of each item which we planned to create.
By now, you’re probably wondering what does this have to do with corporal punishment.  Let me explain.
It was a Friday, the last day of school before the beginning of the 1966 Christmas holiday break.  I was in Industrial Arts class, sitting at my drafting table in the classroom which adjoined the woodworking shop.  A good friend of mine, let’s call him John, was sitting at his drafting table just to my right.  Both of our tables were in the front row.  As class began, our instructor Mr. Carpenter, no pun intended, walked into the classroom from the shop and promptly told everyone to pass their completed homework up to the front.
Being a keen observer, Mr. Carpenter noticed that my friend John was not pulling the required paperwork out of his notebook.  “Where’s your homework, John?”  Mr. Carpenter inquired.
“I don’t have it.”  replied John with eyes cast down at the work on his drafting table which suddenly had become of the utmost importance.   
“You don’t have it, or you didn’t do it?”  asked Mr. Carpenter unwilling to leave the subject at hand. 
“Uh, well I, um, … didn’t do it.”   
“Hmm? ”  replied Mr. Carpenter as he finished picking up the papers which had been passed to the front of the class.  We all could feel the slight yet unmistakable tingle of electricity in the air.  We all knew that on the weekends, Mr. Carpenter participated in rodeo events.  As such, we all were quite certain that he didn’t believe in taking “Bull” from anyone.
Mr. Carpenter walked over to his desk, dropped the homework papers, and instructed us to continue working on our drafting assignment.  He turned slowly, paused theatrically for a moment, briefly looking directly at John before walking to the door leading out into the woodworking shop.  The top half of that door contained a window which was normally closed from view by a venetian blind.  As Mr. Carpenter proceeded through the door, he nonchalantly pulled down on the string opening the blinds as the door closed behind him.
By pure happenstance, my drafting table was the only one in the classroom which provided a view into the shop.
John motioned to me and under his breath whispered, “What’s he doing out there?”
I glanced out the window.  I could see Mr. Carpenter standing at a large rack on which wood was stored.
“He’s picked up a piece of 1″X6″ about four feet long and is looking at it to make sure it’s straight.”  I replied.
As small drops of nervous perspiration began to appear on John’s brow, Mr. Carpenter walked over to the table saw, flipping the switch to turn it on.  Startled by the raspy, metallic sound of the saw coming to life, John gasped “Oh damn!  What’s he doing now?”
From that point, and for most of the 45 minutes remaining in that class period, I provided John and my classmates with a running commentary on Mr. Carpenter’s activities out in the shop.  With the table saw, he cut a piece of the 1″X6″ pine to a length of about 18 inches.  Mr. Carpenter’s actions were very slow and methodical.  While I never noticed him looking back into the classroom through the window in the door, I’m confident that he was totally aware that his every step was being duly noted and carefully reported to his charges in the drafting room.
Next he walked over to the band saw.  John’s body convulsed again as the band saw began to whine.  When I realized what was happening, I reported that it appeared that a handle had been shaped on to one end of the 18 inch board.  A sigh of total despondency slowly escaped from John.
Using the belt sander, Mr. Carpenter very carefully sanded the board and its handle; rounding and smoothing the edges around its entire perimeter.  Then it was over to the drill press, where a series of holes were drilled through the rectangular portion of the wood above it’s handle.
After giving his work a thorough visual examination, Mr. Carpenter took the device by its handle and quickly slapped it once or twice against the palm of his other hand, the sharp stinging sound of which seemed to awaken us all from a trance.  Suddenly, we realized that there were only 5 minutes left in the period.
Slowly, Mr. Carpenter opened the door.  “John, ….. can you step out here for a moment?”  Realizing that the statement was a command rather than a question, John stood and very deliberately walked out of the classroom and into the shop.  None of us were willing to make eye contact with John.

 As the door closed, Mr. Carpenter led him into an area of the shop which even I could not observe.  In the drafting room, you could have heard a pin drop.  As we all sat at our desks, eyes fixed on our three-dimensional orthographic drawings, we heard the unmistakable “Thwack!”  of pine meeting rear end, followed in slow succession by two additional “Thwacks!”
Judgement had been decided.  Justice had been served.  All homework was completed for the remainder of that year!
As we filed out of class that day, Mr. Carpenter, paddle stored under his arm, wished us all a Merry Christmas.
“You too, Mr. Carpenter.  Merry Christmas to you.”


The question comes up so often? Why do you like to get spanked? LIKE?? ah..I don't ... WHY??? I hate it! but yet I think about it all the time and hard to explain (if you don't understand) what it feels like to have a man lecture you, scold you about your behavior..what you HAD done or didn't do and then pass sentence of get the brush, fetch the strap or bring me the paddle and lower your pants! GULP.....I say there is nothing better and nothing worse.


There were fewer disruptions at school when kids were paddled. Spare the rod, spoil the child.


Discipline made me understand that for my actions there were consequences. Off course I wanted to 'get away" with it..and at times I did..but when I didn't my backside paid the price. As we grew into adult men the society no longer requires us to drop our pants and get a sore fanny however punishments come strong as men....it's better to understand the consequences of bad decisions as a boy


On the first day of class, I was standing in front of my desk (trying unsuccessfully to get the students to be quiet) when a six-foot freshman boy walked up, stuck a track starter pistol about three feet from my chest, and pulled the trigger.
Instead of having a heart attack like anyone would today, I reached out, took the pistol from him, dropped it on the floor and stomped it. That didn't do much to the gun, but the plastic handle shattered and pieces flew all over the room. The laughing immediately stopped.
I reached into my desk and took out the paddle (it was standard classroom equipment at the time). Taking the boy by the arm, I turned him facing the class and told him to grab his ankles. Unlike today, he did what I told him to do. I gave him three swats − hard and fast. Having been in a college fraternity that used the paddle for hazing, I was really good at giving swats! (Its all in the wrist!)
The principal opened the door just as I told the boy, with tears in his eyes, to go back to his seat . The principal stepped into the room, looked at me, watched the boy gingerly sit down, then looked down at the broken gun. Still holding the paddle, I told him that everything was under control. He walked out and closed the door without saying a word. The story of that incident spread very quickly. I got a little more cooperation from all my classes and didn't have to use the paddle again for over a year.


I got paddled in school, and I appreciate the fact that the principal did it too because it taught me a valuable lesson.


UNDESERVED Spanking? well I thought so.... was 14. It was Sunday after church and I asked my dad if I could over to my Friend's house to play basketball and he said OK but I had a lawn to cut and I best not forget! I said yes dad and well....it was late August not staying light as long and at about 640 I said Oh I gotta Go.i got home by 7 and went straight to the garage to get to work. The damn lawnmower needed gas and I had to find it and I guess Maybe it was 715ish when I got the mower revved up and ready to cut. At that point my dad meet me in the twilight and asked JUST WHAT I Thought I was doing? I said Cutting the lawn with a attitude I might add...and he shut the mower off and said "OH NO YOUR NOT YOUNG MAN, not in the dark"! Well that been fine with me I didn't want to cut the damn lawn anyway but when he said after I got it put away I was getting a darn good paddling I got upset! WHY I was home and ready to cut the lawn! The exchange ended up with me adding a mouth soaping to my paddling as well.....I guess but I could have cut the lawn!



Nothing was feared more at Prichard than the large wooden paddle. Every  teacher had such a paddle and every student was aware  of this fact. All eyes would focus on the teacher's desk any time she opened her desk drawer and  pulled out the wooden paddle. From day one, the teachers  and the principal made it very clear they were in control. The  wooden paddle was the  symbol  and enforcer of this control. 

As if this fear of being whacked with a paddle by your teacher wasn't enough, every grade-school student know that somewhere in the principal's office was  the infamous electric paddle. Therefore, being sent to the principal’s office for punishment was something to be avoided.

 Paddling  was  a normal method of disciplining in the 1950's.    Also, at  Prichard many of the grade schools classes  had over 60 students.  To have a learning environment in these classes, teachers  had to maintain order.

So, a student being paddled was a common occurrence.  They were paddled for  chewing gum, talking, fighting, being late for class and other such things that kids do. Also, they were paddled for not knowing  what was 9 times 8, for misspelling a word or a bad grade on a test. Therefore, students were paddled not only for misbehaving  or not following the rules, but teachers  also believed  that paddling could improved academic performance.

 Generally, a paddling took place in front of the class and was a sudden and deliberate act; like a  hawk  swooping down from the sky to seize  an unsuspecting   rabbit . The  teacher would spot the offending student and abruptly stop teaching and demand  the student come to the front of the class.

Looking startled,  the student would awkwardly walk  to the  front of the class, and slowly assume  the paddling  position..  The most frequently used positions  were the bend-over-the-desk position or the grab-your-knees position.  The most animated paddling occurred when the student remained standing. The teacher would just grab the student by the arm and start paddling. With each lick of the paddle, the student would jump and dance around the teacher trying to escape the next blow and the two would go round and round in front of the class.

Paddling was a free of any gender bias; both boys and girls received them. The boys generally tried with each lick of the paddle to hold back the tears as long as they could.  Some endured until the whipping was over and they had returned to their desk. At their desk, with  as much dignity and privacy  as they could muster  with the class watching,  they would  put their face down on their desk and try to  hide using their arms and hands.  Muffled sobs could be heard throughout  the classroom.

 Just as quickly  as  it had began, the paddling would end with the teacher resuming whatever she has doing  as if nothing special had happened.


Alright, young man. By the end of today (Saturday), I'd like you answer this question publicly by listing the rules in our behavior contract so that everybody can get a sense of what will earn you a sore bottom and a trip over my knee. I would urge you to be thorough so I'm not left with the impression that a session is needed to remind you of what the expectations are. -- Sir

      Yes sir, here is a copy of our agreement.
Health:
Exercise
1. I will do cardio five times a week for thirty minutes per session at minimum.
2. I will do a minimum of 10,000 steps per day, measured on FitBit. I will send a screen shot report as proof every single day.
Nutrition:
1. I will reach the FitBit water goal every day, screen shot the results and send it to my disciplinarian.
2. I will complete a daily food journal every single day and send it to my disciplinarian. The content of the food journal will be revisited at a later date.
Lifestyle
1. I will get at least seven hours of sleep every day.
Attitude
1. I will treat my disciplinarian with respect. That means Yes, Sir and No, Sir all the time.
2. I will not be late to work. One minute late is late.
Safety
1. I will not text, email etc… and drive. Ever.
Compliance
1. I will check in with my disciplinarian once every 24 hours indicating whether any rules were broken.
2. I will send a report every 24 hours proving the FitBit step, water and food journaling goals were met.
3.  I must post all punishments online with descriptions and photos.
4. I must respond to followers questions everyday.

Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)