Were any posters here ever given the cane or the slipper by a woman teacher, or do they know of others boys who were?
Apart from the occasional reference on Friendsreunited to cane- or slipper-wielding female teachers I am assuming this was a rare practise, at least in secondary schools.
I got the slipper from a woman teacher at my junior school, Parkhill in Ilford, Essex.
It was mostly the male teachers there, and the headmaster, who used the slipper but there was one woman teacher, Mrs D, who did make use of it a lot. I was never in her class but when we were lining up in the corridor one day to get on the coach for a swimming lesson she saw me pushing in.
She pulled me out of the line and bent me over and gave me two whacks with her plimsoll about as hard as the other slipperings I got there.
We only ever had one woman teach at our all-boys public school and she was an old frump.
In primary school, the toddler teach might give a few naughty smacks on the palm with a ruler,but that was about it from this dept.
Miss B gave the boys the slipper in my class. The age was about 14/15 ( the boys not the teacher) we conned her into doing it herself rather than her sending us to the male teacher next door by volunteering various plimsolls and advising her on the most effective type. She was from one of our former dominions and her mouth watered and her eyes lit up when she did it. She was definitely a spanko!
Sounds incredible but is totally true.
I received the cane five times during my schooling and three of those were from female members of staff. My 5th-grade teacher Miss Kamer caned me once and my headmistress Mrs Joss caned me two times. My high school headmaster caned me the other two times, Miss Kamer gave me three strokes on my buttocks and my other punishments were administered to the palms of my hands.
I attended Hatfield House Lane Secondary Modern (Sheffield)in the 1960s. I remember Miss Proctor swishing the cane quite a lot. It was never on the bum, always on the hand. She was a cold vicious bitch, who dressed like a beatnik. I once saw her slap a timid kid across his eczema-blotched face. She eventually took up with Mr Bee, a thuggish art teacher. After they wed, Mrs Bee would send misbehaving boys to be caned by her scruffy, red-bearded spouse. He prided himself on ‘really laying it on’—again, always on the hand.
Muriel Pickering was another teacher at the school. She tried to resolve the problem of her unruly class by putting the slipper across the ring-leaders backsides. Unfortunately, the good-natured Muriel lacked the temperament necessary to whack to good effect. The naughty lads stuck out their bums with impunity and pride and easily absorbed Miss Pickering’s inept spankings. So, she too began sending culprits off to be punished by a male. Muriel chose John Richardson–a towering, bearded, spiritualist–from Middlesborough. This bloke would often lament, out loud, that he ought to be allowed to ‘birch you all on your bare backsides’. As things were, he had to confine his sadistic impulses to palms and fingers. The canings he inflicted were so painful, that we were all cowed in a matter of weeks. He would then frequently vent his existential fury on a life-size plasticine hand, which he kept on his desk.
Pat Meehan was the dykey gym teacher. She took the boys for music, and she once threatened to give me a good old-fashioned spanking’. I grinned back at her in eager anticipation, which she took to be incredulity, and prompted her to say: ‘ You think I’m joking, but I’ve smacked bigger bottoms than yours’. I bet she had; but, sadly, she never carried out her threat to smack mine.
I’m grateful to good old Pat, though, for the very stimulating sight of her delivering a single slipper-stroke to a very gorgeous female athlete. This girl was warming up on the playing field. I was a few feet away, as she lay on her back cycling her lovely legs in the air, and displaying the gusset of her navy-blue knickers to my loving eyes. Up came Meeham, seemingly out of nowhere, brandishing a plimsol. The wallop inflicted, caused the teenaged beauty to leap to her feet, rubbing her seat. Miss Meacham looked her briefly in the eye, and then swivelled her gaze meaningfully towards me. The girl raced off round the field. Meeham walked away whistling. And my knob throbbed hard enough to bust through concrete.
I can remember being caned by Miss Holmes for “persistently [sic] talking in class” as she wrote on the blackboard. My voice had broken and she thought that she could recognise it. Unfortunately (for me) so had Paul Mallard’s, the real culprit. I took several strokes, with dignity.
Funnily enough, I woke up, this morning, thinking about “Holmsey”—trying to recall her name. I am a couple of years younger than the person who wrote the FR entry; and Miss Holmes left the school a year, or so, after I started there. If I remember rightly, she took us for technical drawing.
A no-nonsense type, Miss Holmes kept her thick, yellow, cane constantly on her desk. I was never a recipient; but there were a hard core of lads whose hands she seemed to cane twice a week (at least)—usually, for very trivial offences e.g grinning at someone across the room.
The cruelty of her caning aside, I found her an erotic figure, due to the figure-hugging trousers she wore—a unique sight back then.