Yes, I thought the cane would hurt, and it did hurt an awful lot. In the circumstances, I was extremely upset, and those administering the punishment made it very clear that it was going to be painful. There was little possibility of finding it anything other than extremely painful.
Two years later I was caned again, though in very different circumstances. By then I was far from upset; in truth, I could hardly have cared less. Very little seemed to register with me during that particular period of my life. Because of my state of mind at the time, it was unlikely I was going to experience the cane in the same way or find it particularly painful.
So, on one occasion I expected the cane to hurt and it certainly did. On another occasion, heaven knows what I was thinking — though had I been capable of sensible thought at the time, I probably would not have been in trouble anyway. Rationally, I knew from experience that the cane was extremely painful, yet I did not experience it that way on the second occasion. Therefore, I would have to answer both yes and no to the question of whether the cane was as painful as expected.
I received a six-stroke caning across my backside because the school believed I was a violent bully, and a separate one-stroke caning across the hand for insolence.
I can understand the one stroke for insolence — that was simply the accepted way of dealing with such behaviour in many schools at the time. However, I remain less certain that six strokes for alleged bullying were appropriate. Looking back, I do not think the situation was as straightforward as the authorities believed. Like many schools of the period, there was often a tendency to simplify complicated situations into categories of “victim” and “bully” without understanding the underlying tensions, provocations, or personal circumstances involved.
Even if it was true that I had behaved violently, I am not convinced that severe corporal punishment was likely to improve matters. The intention may have been deterrence, but punishment alone rarely addressed the deeper causes of aggression, resentment, or emotional distress.
I remember one boy at my primary school who gained notoriety for stabbing unsuspecting pupils in the backside with a large darning needle. He was eventually caned, and many of us felt a certain grim satisfaction in believing the punishment fitted the crime. Yet, in hindsight, it clearly did little good. The last I heard, he later ended up in prison. That experience reinforced my suspicion that corporal punishment was often ineffective when dealing with serious behavioural or psychological problems.
In my view, school corporal punishment worked best — if it worked at all — when used for relatively minor offences. A short, sharp punishment could act as an unpleasant deterrent without causing lasting harm, encouraging pupils to think twice before repeating minor acts of disobedience or disruption. The punishment was over quickly, and for most boys there were few lasting after-effects beyond embarrassment and temporary discomfort.
Where bullying or more serious misconduct was concerned, corporal punishment may have satisfied a sense of retribution among staff and pupils alike, but it rarely solved the underlying problem. Schools often seemed more concerned with restoring order and authority than understanding why certain behaviour occurred in the first place.
I did, however, have a fascination with school corporal punishment from an early age, as many boys seemed to. There was an atmosphere surrounding it: the mystery, the dread, the ritual, and the whispered stories passed between pupils. My first experience of the cane came in the first form when my form master punished me for whispering during assembly. He gave me four strokes during the lunch break, and I winced painfully whenever I sat down during the following lesson.
Even now, I am unsure how much of the pain came from the actual strokes and how much from the anticipation beforehand. Waiting outside the master’s office, listening for footsteps or the sound of the cane, could be agonising in itself. The anxiety often built steadily as one imagined what was coming. In some respects, the psychological aspect could be worse than the punishment itself.
I remember that the pain of my fourth and final caning felt every bit as severe as the first. Familiarity certainly did not lessen the sting. If anything, anticipation became sharper with experience because one knew exactly what awaited. It was especially nerve-racking when others were being punished before you and you could hear their canings taking place while you waited your turn outside.
My school claimed to take bullying seriously — though perhaps it would be more accurate to say they preferred to ignore many incidents until they could no longer avoid action. There was often a reluctance to acknowledge the extent of bullying within the school. Problems simmered beneath the surface until a serious incident forced the authorities to intervene publicly.
When they finally did act, they frequently reacted harshly. Serious bullies were either expelled or caned, while lesser offenders were punished in the belief that corporal punishment would “teach them a lesson.” The prevailing attitude seemed to be that pain and humiliation would correct behaviour through fear.
There was one particularly sad case involving sustained bullying where, had the school approached matters more carefully and sensitively, the outcome might have been far better for everyone involved — both victim and perpetrators alike. Instead, the ringleader was expelled and a couple of boys were caned, after which the school seemed to consider the matter closed. Little thought appeared to be given to reconciliation, emotional support, or preventing similar incidents in future.
On the occasion when I myself was accused of bullying, a teacher escorted me directly to the Deputy Head, who administered most of the school canings. I was given no real opportunity to defend myself or explain what had happened. The Deputy Head lectured me at length beforehand — and, truthfully, that lecture was far more effective and unsettling than the caning itself. His disappointment and authority carried considerable weight.
Then, in his usual manner, he looked at me and said, “I’ll give you two.” My chief apprehension at that moment was not whether I would be punished, but whether the strokes would be delivered on the hand or the backside, and exactly how many there would be.
That uncertainty was always part of the ordeal. In many schools, corporal punishment functioned not only through physical pain but through ritual, anticipation, and fear of the unknown. The waiting, the formal summons, the lecture beforehand, the sound of the cane being prepared — all contributed to an atmosphere designed to reinforce discipline and authority long before the first stroke ever landed.
