I spent my childhood in New Jersey, accompanied by my younger sister, Amanda. The year was 1962, and our days were filled with the ordinary adventures of youth, set against the backdrop of a world that seemed both vast and mysterious.
Our mother was a woman of a carefree disposition, rarely concerned with the mischief my sister and I found ourselves in. After our father, weary of her ways, left us, she became rather fond of drink. Yet, she never raised a hand to us—at least, not until one fateful day, when everything changed, and a lesson was to be learned in the most traditional of fashions.
It was late October, and Amanda and I were donning our costumes for Halloween. Mother, unwell and irritable, scolded us for the smallest of things, her patience worn thin. We hurried out to collect our sweets, hoping her mood would improve by the time we returned.
Upon our return, Mother helped Amanda into her pyjamas, while I dressed myself. I overheard her sternly lecturing Amanda, who, in a rare act of defiance, answered back. The air grew tense. Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the room, followed by Amanda’s cry. Mother had delivered five firm smacks to Amanda’s bottom, each one a clear warning that discipline would henceforth be enforced.
Mother’s voice was resolute as she declared, ‘In the past, I might have overlooked such behaviour, but things are different now. You must learn to be good, or I shall teach you.’ With that, she tucked Amanda in and turned her attention to me.
I leapt into bed, feigning sleep, but Mother approached and said, ‘Jennifer, did you hear what I told your sister? I know you are awake. Look at me.’ I remained silent, my heart pounding.
She kissed me gently, then paused at the door. ‘Since you are still awake, you should know that tomorrow, if you misbehave, I shall use my belt, which now hangs in the kitchen. Should you err, you will be bent over the chair and receive a sound lesson.’
The very thought sent a shiver down my spine. The next morning, Mother insisted we sit at the table for breakfast. I protested, reminding her that we always ate in the living room.
Her patience snapped. ‘Do you recall what I said last night? If you are not here in five seconds, I shall act upon my word. One, two, three…’
I quickly gathered Amanda and hurried to the kitchen. We ate in silence before heading to school. That day, emboldened by mischief, I joined my friends Jimmy and Matt in the lavatory for a forbidden cigarette. We were caught, and the consequences were swift.
The teacher, a stern man from the previous year, marched us to the principal’s office. Our school still permitted corporal punishment, but this time, the matter was deemed too grave for the school to handle.
I knew that if the school would not punish us, our parents certainly would. I felt a pang of sympathy for Matt and Jimmy, whose fathers were known for their strictness. They wept, dreading the discipline that awaited them at home.
The principal called Matt’s father first. Matt, trembling, dialed the number and burst into tears. The principal explained the situation, and soon Matt’s fate was sealed: his father would arrive in twenty minutes.
I whispered to Matt, ‘You have time—perhaps you should pad your trousers.’ He managed a weak smile, but the fear remained. Jimmy’s father was summoned next, and the same dread filled the room.
Finally, it was my turn. The principal called my mother, who, upon hearing the news, promised to come at once. ‘Jennifer, your mother is on her way, and she did not sound pleased,’ he said.
My mother arrived just as Matt’s father did. I watched as Matt’s father calmly led him away, no doubt to receive a stern lesson at home. Jimmy’s father, too, collected his son with a grim expression.
Mother took me by the neck, pinching gently but firmly until a tear escaped my eye. She led me to the car, her silence more frightening than any words.
As we drove home, she said, ‘Jennifer Lynn, you are to wait for me in the kitchen. Today, you shall learn the consequences of your actions.’
I trembled as I waited at the kitchen table. When Mother entered, she spoke gravely: ‘Jennifer, I have always warned you about cigarettes. Now, you must pull out that chair and bend over it.’
Obediently, I did as I was told. Mother removed her belt from the hook and said, ‘This is your first belting from me, and it shall be a lesson.’ She delivered ten sharp smacks to my bottom, each one stinging more than the last.
She reminded me that my father had once disciplined me, but she had never before given such a punishment. Her hand had landed no more than five times in the past, and never with such force.
She stepped back, raised the belt, and delivered a further ten smacks, making twenty in all. I wept uncontrollably, the pain and humiliation overwhelming, but the lesson was clear and unforgettable.
Mother said, ‘There, Jennifer, you have received your punishment. This will happen each time you forget your manners.’ She hung up the belt and, seeing my distress, gathered me into her arms.
She wept as she held me, whispering that she did not wish to see me suffer, but that such discipline was necessary. I hugged her tightly and promised to behave, moved by her tears as much as by the pain.
Through her tears, she said, ‘Jennifer, I love you more than anything. This pain is not cruel, but a lesson in love and knowledge. Remember it, and let it guide you.’
I understood her words and hugged her once more before retreating to my room, where I cried quietly, reflecting on the lesson I had received.
For a week, I stayed out of trouble, but eventually, I spoke out of turn. Mother continued to discipline my sister and me, always with the same resolve.
After every punishment, Mother would say, ‘I am sorry, and I love you dearly. But I must do this to help you grow into a good person.’
We understood. With each lesson, we became better behaved, step by step, guided by the firm but loving hand of our mother.
