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Date Posted: 14:34:39 09/12/05 Mon
Author: Slevin
Subject: Trip to the cloakroom ll
After posting I noticed that I'd left on the subject: Trip to the cloakroom. I was going to introduce myself to the group with a story about the teacher we had who would take us to the cloakroom across the back of the classroom and punish us there. But I decided instead to ask about aunts. Sorry for any confusion.
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Re: Trip to the cloakroom ll -- Lorne, 15:13:32 09/12/05 Mon [1]
>After posting I noticed that I'd left on the subject:
>Trip to the cloakroom. I was going to introduce
>myself to the group with a story about the teacher we
>had who would take us to the cloakroom across the back
>of the classroom and punish us there. But I decided
>instead to ask about aunts. Sorry for any confusion.
I remember those trips to the cloakroom and to the principal's office. The cloakroom trip wasn't so bad as that meant Miss Wright was going to strap you and she was a kind, gentle person. You always got three on each hand from her, and they were hard enough to bring tears, but she always gave you a little pep talk first encouraging you to be a brave boy and afterwards a hug. Going to the principal's office was different. For one thing, that meant a call home before the strap to tell your mother and that would cost big time later. Also, in the office the strap was actually given by Mrs. Gupta who worked in the front office. She was a tall woman with long arms which gave her a big arc for the strap to travel and she used it all. The principal would hang up from talking to your mother, go to the door and ask Mrs. Gupta to step in and she would arrive a minute later carrying the school strap. She always told you in no uncertain terms that it was now her job to give you a good strapping, and that's exactly what she proposed to do, and she did. No hugs afterward. After the last blow she'd tell you to go and wash your face and get back to class. Miss Wright was a Saint. Mrs. Gupta was the devil.
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Re: Trip to the cloakroom ll -- Nancy, 15:04:04 05/08/14 Thu [1]
Our school, grades one to six, had the cloakroom at the back whereby you could enter from the hallway or there were two entrances from the classroom. For those grades each teacher had her own strap, many of which were kept on a hook high up at the corner of the blackboard as a visual reminder or, in some cases, tucked in her desk drawer.When a kid's behaviour warranted a strapping the teacher would take her strap down or from the drawer, go down the aisle, take the girl (it was a girls school)and lead her to the cloakroom. The rest of us were told to keep working but we never did. All wanted to hear the strapping. About all we could hear was something resembling mumbling and sometimes crying. Then we heard the strap strike. It would usually be two on each hand for classroom offenses and sometimes more. Then the girl would be lead back to her desk in tears.The teachers, seasoned over their teaching career, didn't look upset or worried in any way that they had just strapped a child. In fact, I always thought they looked emboldened and powerful. I managed to avoid the strap until grade 8. The affect on me of those strappings was amazing. Even at that age, apart from the profound sympathy I had for the poor kid who was strapped, I experienced something akin to arousal I never knew what it was until later.
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