(gap: 2s) I had always believed that, upon entering our private school, the days of physical discipline would be behind us, at least for the young ladies. Typically, our misdeeds were met with a period of detention, a stern word, or a note sent home.
My closest companion at the time was a girl named Darla, who resided only a few streets away. We were both regarded as leaders among the girls in our class, and, for reasons I cannot now recall, we often found ourselves in gentle rivalry.
One brisk afternoon during recess, Darla addressed me with a most unkind remark. I replied in kind, for, as young ladies, we sometimes resorted to sharp words rather than physical altercations. However, the situation quickly escalated. Darla, with a determined air, gathered several girls to her side, and I, in turn, was supported by my own friends. We stood face to face, the tension palpable, and it was clear that a confrontation was imminent.
The inevitable occurred. Darla, in a moment of passion, struck me across the face. I was utterly astonished, for never in my life had I been so affronted. The sting was not so much physical as it was emotional, and I felt a surge of indignation rise within me.
As Darla turned away, her head held high, I acted without thinking. I rushed forward and struck her twice upon her back with my fists. She fell to the hard cement of the playground and remained motionless, while I stood, aghast at my own actions.
The other girls hurried to fetch a teacher, while I attempted to assist Darla to her feet. She refused my help, her anger evident. I suspected she was exaggerating her distress in order to see me punished. Soon, our mathematics teacher arrived, helped Darla up, and escorted her to the nurse’s office. She was, in truth, unharmed, but she played the part of the wounded party most convincingly.
It was not long before the truth of the matter was revealed. My friends attempted to defend me, explaining that Darla had struck first, but it was clear that my response had been excessive. I was summoned to the headmistress’s office, where I was to face the consequences of my actions.
The headmistress, a woman of great dignity and resolve, closed the door behind me. “Recess is over for you, young lady,” she declared. She instructed me to remove my coat and led me into her private office, where a telephone sat upon the desk. She promptly telephoned my parents. My father, being home from a concert tour, would soon be apprised of my misdeed.
The headmistress explained that, in this instance, physical discipline was warranted. My parents were given the choice: they could come to the school and administer the punishment themselves, or it could be carried out at school, with the telephone line kept open so they might listen.
My mind was in turmoil. My parents, pressed for time as my father was soon to depart for Atlanta, elected to have the punishment administered at school. The headmistress placed the receiver on the desk and drew the curtains across the window for privacy.
In the centre of the room stood a leather armchair, its arms and headrest padded for comfort. The headmistress gently but firmly bent me over one of the arms, so that my face rested upon the cushion. She then opened a desk drawer and withdrew a wooden ruler, which she held in her hand.
She addressed my parents once more, describing the proceedings in a calm and measured tone. Then, with the receiver set down, she placed her hand upon my back to steady me.
Without further delay, the headmistress administered my punishment. She delivered precisely twelve firm smacks with the ruler to the seat of my skirt, each one accompanied by a sharp sting. I endeavoured to remain composed, knowing my parents could hear, but after the eighth stroke, I could not contain a cry of distress. The final four smacks were delivered with unwavering resolve, and I wept openly by the end.
When the punishment concluded, the headmistress assisted me to stand and handed me the telephone so that I might speak to my parents. My voice was choked with sobs, and I could scarcely utter a word. My parents offered words of comfort and admonition, reminding me of the importance of self-control and dignity.
