Sarge

Ancient History

Fifty-plus years ago, the American education process was very different than it is now. As a result, interactions between students and responses by teachers and administrative staff from such interactions was very different from what is seen today. Corporal punishment was used in every school I attended, even elementary school. A permission slip was required to be signed by parents, and my parents had provided it. There was a rule that many parents, mine included, followed-spanked at school, spanked at home. I only knew of a few kids in elementary school that were safe from the paddle and only one in junior high.

I won't use any last names or provide the names of the schools I attended, but all of this occurred in the northern part of the State of Ohio.

An early case in point. Fifth Grade. One of the few male teachers I ever had, Mr. M., was very strict and very quick to use his paddle. Only a few teachers had a paddle in the classroom, most relied on sending kids (read "boys") to the principal when corporal punishment was due. One spring day, as we were about to head out to the playground for recess, Mr. M. gave a warning.

"It is warm outside and the snow is melting rapidly. Stay in the dry area. I won't allow wet clothing in my classroom," he said. Years later when I watched the Harry Potter movies and first heard Alan Rickman as Professor Snape, I immediately thought of Mr. M. They both had the same menacing voice.

It was a simple instruction, one that I didn't understand but soon would. I was ten while many of my classmates had already had their eleventh birthday. I was tall and skinny and scared of many things, something a few of my classmates knew.

Today, many teachers realize that a student staying by himself during recess might mean that student is a target of bullying and needs watching. No such thing existed in the early sixties, at least not in any of the schools I attended. I was on my own.

But not for long. With a guard to watch for teacher interference, three boys grabbed me and pulled me around a corner where the snow had been piled when the playground was shoveled. It was dirty brown snow now with a river of water running from under the pile towards a storm drain. The storm drain was partially plugged and water was several inches deep around it. It was to this point that I was first taken.

I tried to yell, but they had anticipated that and a glove was quickly shoved in my mouth and held there with a hand. I was pushed into the puddle, landing on my butt. Then, before I could get up from the icy water they grabbed my arms and turned me over. I rose as soon as they let me go and thought that was it, but they grabbed me again and pulled me to the snow pile and pushed me in.

Making sure to keep their own clothes dry, they shoved snow down my pants. They unzipped my winter jacket and shoved snow down my shirt. And they told me that because I tried to yell for help I was to play in the snow pile until we were called back to the classroom. I was to build a fort in the middle of the pile.

Because I was around the corner, I didn't hear the command to come back inside and Mr. M. had to come and find me. And he did. I'd cleared out a two-foot by two-foot area and was standing in it when he came for me.

"I told you to stay where it was dry and to stay on the playground," Mr. M. yelled at me. "Now look at you. Get out of there."

When we got back into the classroom, the rest of the kids had already hung up their jackets. Those who had wet shoes and or socks had left the wet items under their jacket, knowing that Mr. M. would bestow additional punishments upon them for not following the rule. They all turned to look as I was brought inside.

"Hang up your coat," Mr. M. commanded. Once I did, he shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Did you think I was kidding?"

"No," I answered softly, although I really hoped he was. I think my classmates were hoping otherwise.

"Shoes and socks under your jacket. Pants and shirt on empty hooks." A quiet laughter came from the room until Mr. M. turned around and said, "Anyone who thinks this is funny can come back here and join him." The room got real quiet.

With fingers stiff from the cold and arms shaking from more than just the cold I slowly removed my shoes and socks, followed by my shirt. I had a white tee-shirt on that was also wet.

"That too," Mr. M. said, pointing at my tee shirt.

Embarrassed to be bare chested in the classroom, I still had to face my greatest problem-taking my pants off. I stood there hoping he'd realize how horrible this was for me, but all I got was further punishment.

"You've just earned one stroke with the paddle," he said. "Keep standing there and I'll keep count of any further strokes that become necessary."

He reached two before I realized that he was going to keep counting as long as I stood there. I unbuckled my belt and with my ears burning so hot they could set the room on fire I removed my pants and stood there in nothing but by white briefs. My soaking wet white briefs. My back was turned to the classroom but I heard someone say they could see my butt through the wet briefs.

"How did you get-never mind, I warned you. Wait here." Mr. M. went to his desk and came back with a towel he used to wipe the blackboard. "Put this around you and take off the underpants too."

At least the towel was a full bath towel that fit around my slender waist with margin to spare. I took off the underpants and was about to hang them somewhere when he said, "Ho, those will never dry before class ends, go put them on the register."

The room was heated with a hot water that ran through pipes inside a register. There were small fans that circulated the heat up and out the top into the room. There were giggles as I walked through the classroom in nothing but a towel and put my underpants on the register. I turned, with tears in my eyes, and headed for my seat but Mr. M. reminded me I still had a date with the paddle.

I made my way to the front of the room. It was to be the first time I'd ever been spanked or paddled at school, although I'd seen many of my classmates get it, especially in Mr. M's. classroom. And I knew it hurt. I was told to put my hands on the edge of his desk and move my feet back until my body was straight. Then he took his paddle off the hook and approached me from the front of the classroom so that he didn't block the field of view from any of the students.

Surprisingly, it only stung a little. I can only guess that he felt sorry for me or that maybe I didn't really deserve to be paddled. I don't know the reason, but he couldn't have used the strength he used when he paddled other boys. But even though it only stung, I was still being paddled in front of twenty-plus peers wearing only a towel. I then took my seat and had to spend the rest of the afternoon naked. Thank god I didn't need to go to the bathroom where I would have had to remove the towel and allow other kids to see that I was naked.

***

Jump ahead two years to my first year in Junior High. Seventh grade had a different mentality towards student-on-student problems. Fighting always drew detention. Drawing blood would add several strokes with a paddle. Older students picking on younger students added even more.

But kids quickly learned (or found out from older brothers) that non-fighting bullying was an accepted way of life. "It's just boys being boys," was the normal reaction. If you complained, you heard, "Stand up to them. You don't see that boy doing that to other boys; that's because other boys wouldn't tolerate it. Bullies are cowards, if you stand up to them they'll back down."

My own experiences had given me a different perspective. Bullies were not cowards. And they didn't back down when a scared, skinny boy stood up to them. It only made the bullying worse.

Gym class was hell. First, the locker room was two long aisles with a bench down the middle of each and lockers on either side. You had to sit on the bench alongside everyone else and undress, putting your clothes in the locker and putting on the required jock strap, short (very, very short by today's standards) gym shorts, and the green tee-shirt. Then you had to go and take part in exercises and activities that I was always unable to perform. Then, you returned to the locker room, stripped off your gym clothes and walk naked to the shower room. The shower room was a large room with shower heads and valves every few feet around the room. After the shower, you grabbed a towel from the clean bag, dried off, and put the towel in the dirty bag before returning naked to your locker.

For a modest, skinny, often picked-on twelve-year-old, this was hell.

There were two ways out of the locker room. One lead past the teacher's office and into the gym. This path went around a corner so that even if the door to the gym was open nobody could see into the locker room. That door was normally left open so that other students had access to the gym teacher if they needed to see him.

The other way went straight out into the hallway. This was the way we were expected to exit when the bell rang instead of tramping past the teacher's office. The outside of this door was bare wood. No handle or other means of opening the door from the outside was provided. It was located behind a cabinet that held cleaning supplies so that even with this door open you'd have to step inside one step to see the locker room or shower. And the rule was the door was not opened until the bell rang. Everyone was expected to be dressed by then anyway.

It was near the end of the first month of school. Jim, who was to be my worst enemy for the next five years, had pulled me to the back of the bus where he tried to pants me and I had stood up to him, just as I was told. He was the first bully to show me that he wasn't a coward. But I didn't know that then and I honestly believed that he would stop. But he didn't. He not only pantsed me, but underpants too. And he held my arms while we sat in the back row so that I couldn't cover up or pull my pants back up. He didn't let me dress until we got to the stop where we both got off.

As bad luck would have it, he was in my gym class. In those days, it seemed that everyone had a bully. It didn't matter how big or strong you were, somebody was bigger or stronger. And he was taking a ribbing from his bullies because I had dared to stand up to him on the bus. He was pissed. At me.

I had tried to stop taking a shower after gym, but somebody told the teacher that I smelled because I didn't shower. The next gym class the teacher threatened to come and supervise if he heard anyone was leaving without the mandatory shower. None of us wanted an adult watching to make sure we showered, so it was made plain to me that I was to shower or they had a nice, stiff-bristled brush and hard soap from within the cleaning supply locker that they would use to wash me.

Jim waited for me to enter the shower. He made sure I stayed. As time went by, one of his friends came in, already dressed, to keep me there. I had no idea what they planned but I was sure I wasn't going to like it.

From inside the shower room I couldn't see the clock, but I knew it had to be getting close to when the bell would ring. I could see other kids lining up to exit once the bell did ring. The next period was lunch, and half the school went to the cafeteria for thirty minutes while the other half went to the gym where they could sit in the bleachers and do homework or talk. After thirty minutes the two groups switched.

Finally, I was signaled to come out of the shower. A towel was passed to me and I dried off. Now I could see the clock and saw that I had one minute before the bell would ring. I tried to go to my locker but was pushed instead towards the door.

"We're going to let you go first," Jim said.

I tried to resist, but they were stronger than me and the other kids in the class wanted a show. I was pushed to the door and one of them opened it and pushed me out. "We'll start exiting two minutes after the bell rings," he said to me. And then the door closed.

I knew that thirty seconds after the bell rung this hallway would be filled with kids. I couldn't stand there naked for two minutes. I had less than fifteen seconds and I needed to think. If I didn't get in the door they had pushed me out the only way back in was through the gym. I ran, slipping on the floor and went down hard. I was down to my last few seconds. As I entered the gym the bell was already ringing.

The door to the locker room was closed. I ran to it and tried to open it, but it was being held closed by someone inside. I couldn't even turn the knob. All hope was lost, they were not going to let me in. In seconds kids would be coming into the gym, so I went to the only place I could and climbed under the bleachers and headed for the back wall.

I had barely gotten half way before noisy kids came running in, all hoping to get their favorite spots. I moved slowly to the corner. As the bleachers filled I no longer could see anything of the gym. My plan was to wait until after lunch and then get into the locker room. All I had to do was make it for an hour. Maybe a few minutes longer if there was another gym class after lunch.

I was naked and scared. Somewhere out there were twenty-three boys who knew I was naked somewhere in school, and it was just a matter of time before they looked under the bleachers. But there was no place else I could go, so I just tried to stay in the darkest corner and hope.

Time passed slowly until a pencil dropped and nearly hit me. I looked up and saw a girl's head looking down. I squeezed back into the corner and prayed she wouldn't see me. No such luck.

"Hey, there's someone under there," she said. "And it looks like he's naked."

More heads immediately appeared and seconds later five boys were dropping down from the bleachers. Three of them were from my gym class. The leader was Jim. He got to me first.

"You bet that you could make it to the far rest room in under thirty seconds and left the locker room naked on your own. You gave your clothes to Peter and told him to meet you in that rest room with them. Say anything else and you'll pay an even bigger price. What's your locker combination?"

At least there was a plan to get my clothes back. I gave him the combination and he sent Peter to the locker room with it. The remaining four boys had no difficulty pulling me out from under the bleachers. I was taken to the gym floor, right in the middle, and my arms were pulled to the side. I glanced at the clock and saw it was just seconds before the next bell.

"Okay, you've all had a good look at our streaker," Jim said. "Now we've got to turn him over to the principal because I know that many of you girls are upset by his nudity."

With him on one arm and the other boy on the other they took me out into the hallway just as the bell rang. And they walked slowly. The rush from the kids coming from the cafeteria was upon us well before we made it to the offices. It was explained over and over again that I thought it would be fun to run naked through the school.

By the time we reached the office area I think that at least 80% of the kids in school had seen me totally naked. Jim and his friend ignored the secretary and pulled me directly to the principal's office. Jim knocked and when he heard "enter," he opened the door and pushed me in.

"Caught him running naked through the halls and giggling. Several girls were very upset by it, so we brought him here," Jim explained. "After gym class, he bet that he could make it to the far bathroom in less than thirty seconds and gave his clothes to Peter to bring them to him. I guess he didn't make it."

I was far more scared of Jim than I was of the principal, so when he asked me my version I told him exactly what Jim had told me to say. He was very displeased, and allowed the two boys to stay and watch me get paddled. Then he told them to go and find my clothing.

I had to stand facing the wall. At least two secretaries and three students came in while I stood there. While I was fortunate they could only see my butt, it was still extremely humiliating to be naked in school. After about ten minutes, Jim returned.

"I couldn't find Peter and his clothes weren't in the rest room. So I stopped at the science classroom and got this." I turned and looked and saw him holding a lab coat. I'm sure they haven't changed much in the decades since this happened. White, three buttons, comes down to about almost to the knee on most junior high kids but only mid-thigh on me. But I took it.

While I was putting it on I had found that the bottom button was held on by literally just a thread and took great care when buttoning the bottom. Whether a true accident or further bullying from Jim I never knew.

The principal used the PA to call Peter to the office. He gave the same story, and said that when I wasn't there he put my clothes in a stall and went to lunch.

"I looked in every stall and even the trash bin and there weren't any clothes there," Jim said. "But the trash bin was empty, maybe someone put the clothes in the trash and then the janitor took them out. The bathroom was clean."

"Well, if that's what happened then they're gone now," the principal said. "The truck emptied the dumpster five minutes ago." This time he used a radio to call the janitor, who confirmed cleaning the bathroom shortly after the start of the lunch break. "All the kids want to get to the cafeteria, so that's the best time to clean it," he said. And yes, he took all the garbage out because he knew it was picked up around that time every day.

"Go to the lost and found and see if there is anything there you can wear," the principal said to me. "If not, I guess you'll have to get by with that for the rest of the day."

The only useful thing I found in the lost and found was a pair of sandals. Since I had no intention of riding the bus home those would be very helpful.

Of course, everyone knew I was naked under the lab coat, and nearly everyone in the school had seen me naked, but that didn't stop them from lifting either the front or back as I walked by. The bottom button only lasted to the end of the next period, after that I had to use my books to hold the bottom closed.

My younger sister was home before I got there and she found my lack of clothing hilarious, and my mom was furious at me for losing my clothes. And, since I was paddled at school, I got paddled again at home, wearing just the lab coat which was pulled up to allow a bare-butt paddling. My sister was in attendance and enjoyed that even more than she enjoyed my arrival at home.

I now submit to you that everything in this story is real and did happen. I offer no proof, for what proof exists? There were no cell phones in those days, so (fortunately) no pictures exist. Records of who got paddled were not, to the best of my knowledge, kept. Of course, if Jim is still alive and reads this, he could confirm it, but I've never searched for him or any of the other kids who bullied me. I've never gone to a reunion, and I now live hundreds of miles away from where I grew up. So it is up to you, dear reader, to determine for yourself if you believe the story is a figment of my imagination or if it, or perhaps just parts of it, really occurred.

The End