by Paul Jackson
Kings Hedges Academy, a co-ed school for 11- to 18-year-olds, seldom used corporal punishment. On occasion, boys felt a whack or two, but the application of corporal punishment on girls was almost unheard of.
The school was located in the affluent market town of Chipping Norton, West Oxfordshire, opposite the sprawling greens of the county's oldest golf club. The best teachers, the wide curriculum and the brightest students from its catchment area afforded the school the highest percentage of A* to B grades at both GCSE and 'A' level in the county, and boasted a full quota of sixth form students, most of whom went on to university.
Such distinction ensured the students were self-disciplined and motivated, and thus there were very few incidents of indiscipline. The school cane, a 2ft 6in thin rattan, continued to gather dust somewhere among the discarded junk in the headmaster's largest cupboard. It hadn't imparted its sting upon the palm of a boy for some time. And it had never hissed towards the outstretched, delicate palm of a girl.
But that was not the case on this fine spring morning in May. A knock came and the headmaster looked up. He was not looking forward to this. Cautiously, he pressed a button located under the top of his desk that would turn the red 'enter' light on with an accompanying buzz. The door opened and in walked a sixteen-year-old girl, attired in the blue uniform of the school.
"You wished to see me, Mr Roe," said the girl in a precise tone.
"Indeed, Naomi," he followed evenly, maintaining an air of calmness. He stood up from behind his desk, picking up a green student file, and walked briskly to his left.
"Come into my meeting room, please, Naomi," he said, gesturing to where a small room off his office was situated.
Mr Roe didn't go for the thundering 'stand up straight in front of my desk' approach, but chose to treat students like the intelligent, respectful young people they were. He kept his voice at an even pitch and gave all students the chance to explain themselves. His modus operandi was that students were innocent until the truth was established. There were members of staff who didn't support that approach, but there were enough who did.
Naomi, a girl who was almost assured a sixth form place, subject to GCSE results, followed Mr Roe towards the door. He opened it and let her into the small meeting room.
"Take a seat," he said, as he sat in an easy chair.
She took a seat opposite, looking across at the fifty-one-year-old thickset headmaster who had the onset of a balding head, dressed in a white pin-striped shirt with golden cufflinks. She saw him cross his legs and open her student file, noticing the greying hair around his large, jug-like ears and at his ever-receding temple.
Naomi liked Mr Roe. She often described him to her parents as 'a good bloke'. She was saddened to learn of his departure this coming July and certainly didn't like the sound of the incoming headmaster.
"Sir, I'm so sorry you're leaving Kings Hedges. You will be missed."
His train of thought was disturbed and he was somewhat taken aback, considering the reason for her being sent to him.
"Thank you, Naomi. Yes, I'm going to a new academy, and I'm looking forward to a new challenge next September," he enthused.
In the middle of a glass table that divided them, sat two glasses and a large jug of water.
"Help yourself to water, Naomi," he offered.
The girl with the luxuriant black hair that went all the way down to her waist, offered a polite, "Thank you, sir," then poured some water into the glass, even offering to pour Mr Roe a drink.
"No, I'm fine, thank you," he smiled, with two gold teeth showing either side of his mouth. But he knew this was no time for niceties. Equally, he disliked having to meet with girls under such unsatisfactory circumstances. Moreover, in this proven case, he had made his decision on how it would be dealt with, and it was that decision that filled him with unease.
"Naomi, I cannot question the excellence of your academic record. And your disciplinary record is without a single blemish," he paused, looking into her golden honey eyes that would melt the heart of any young man she was likely to meet.
Glancing down at the disciplinary report, he said, "Therefore, I find it somewhat extraordinary that we sit here regarding a matter of discipline." He tightened his lips at the awkwardness of the situation then loosened his stiff neck muscles. "A most serious incident," he continued, disappointedly. "It's extremely rare for either me, or my deputy headmistress, Miss Clitheroe, to be in a meeting room with a girl who is sixteen years old, almost seventeen, in fact, who has breached the school code of conduct by the magnitude of your transgression."
Naomi had maintained her focus, keeping quiet and listening intently, not once wavering and looking away from Mr Roe. But it was here that she gave a response.
"Sir, I'm very sorry for what I have done and for the embarrassment I've caused to the school. And I hope that I have not compromised the reputation of Kings Hedges. But, sir, I care passionately about the wellbeing of animals, especially those species that are endangered."
The headmaster offered a sympathetic sigh.
"I understand the love and passion you have for animals. Members of staff have told me what a caring student you are. It is most admirable. I gather that you wish to become a vet. I'm sure you will achieve it. But, Naomi, my admiration stops when you leave school without permission, as you did yesterday, to join an animal rights protest that leads you to be part of a group of people who raid and sabotage the department store, Davidson's, on New Street, because they were having a mink coat promotion, fronted by the stage actress, Grace E. Marr. Thank goodness you were not part of the main affray."
"I have no regrets regarding my being involved and doing what I did, sir," interrupted Naomi, her soft, heavenly eyes turning to a fiery smoulder.
"I see," said Mr Roe. "And do your parents support that view? This report tells me that you were taken home in a police car and given a verbal warning by officers in the presence of your parents."
"My parents don't support my views and they are angry with me."
"I bet they're angry. But I respect your views, Naomi. In fact, I share them, for I would not want my wife wearing a mink or fur coat. And, I shan't deny that you have a right of protest. But," said Mr Roe, now raising his voice for the first time, "not in school time, when you should be revising on your free periods and focusing upon your exams which are a matter of weeks away. And, not in the way you went about it."
"Sir," she replied.
Mr Roe could still see the fiery passion in her eyes. He was about to continue, but she fired a volley of protest.
"I think that actress, Grace E. Marr, is a bitch, sir! She doesn't care about how cruelly the mink, whose skins she wears oh so elegantly, are treated. She's a pompous cow!" she added, flapping her arms about and pushing back her mounds of lovely dark hair.
"You mention a 'cow' Do you care about the animals you eat that sadly find their way onto your plate, Naomi?"
"Yes, I do, sir. That's why I'm a vegetarian."
I walked into that one, thought Mr Roe, hesitantly clearing his throat. Regaining control, he spoke again.
"There are more productive ways of protesting about something you care passionately about, rather than involving yourself with a group of people who are no more than anarchists. Groups such as the one you were with go too far and public opinion turns against the very reason for which you are protesting. Thus, the animals that are so dear to you continue to suffer."
The headmaster paused for a response from the girl, but not a word followed.
"Regarding ways of mounting a sensible protest, you could have written a detailed letter expressing your concerns, to the manager of the department store, or maybe the directors. Or, why didn't you take to social media? There are lots of sites where you can set up an online petition. I for one would have lent my weight and you would have got far more national and worldwide support. Yes, indeed, you have achieved media coverage, but not the productive kind. And the good name of our school has been dragged into it! This, in addition to the warning from the police! All you have achieved is a negative response, alienating people who might have lent their support. For a bright girl, you have been rather silly, Naomi."
"Yes, sir," she replied, looking down at her royal blue skirted lap for the first time. The head noticed that she twiddled her fingers. "But, sir!" she suddenly said, perking up and letting those indulgent eyes go wild, but Mr Roe quelled whatever it was that was about to come out of her cute, oval mouth.
"I have a responsibility for your wellbeing and your health and safety while at school. It's my understanding that many of the main antagonists were arrested and taken away in police vans. What would your parents have said if you, too, had been arrested?"
"Sir, may I speak about the mink in Britain, please?!" she responded, almost running out of breath.
"Briefly, you may, for I have a meeting with my successor for next September."
"Thank you, sir," she replied. "Sir, the mink we have is not native to Britain. They are American mink which originated from mink brought here for fur farming. They end up on awful farms, just for people like Emily E Marr and that department store, Davidson's. We have a wild population of mink, thanks to groups like the one I was with yesterday, who rescue the creatures from the farms. These beautiful creatures shouldn't be on farms to die, they should be free."
Suddenly, the telephone in the meeting room rang. Mr Roe interrupted the rampaging reverberation of the girl's voice.
"Naomi, stop! I have a call!" It was his secretary, Kathy Hicks.
"Very, well, Kathy, make Mr Henry a drink and tell him I shall be with him in less than ten minutes."
He put the receiver down.
"Very, well, Naomi, a quick response to what you have said. If mink weren't farmed they would be running rampant across our countryside. Mink are aggressive predators and will overkill prey. That, then, makes the actions of many animal rights groups counterproductive. Right! That's it! Reluctantly, I'm going to have to punish you!"
He timed that well, for Naomi was about to defend the actions of the group she had been with. There was a brief silence, with the word 'punish' firmly implanted in the brain of the sixteen-year-old. She suddenly sat up straight, pushing her slim shoulders back.
"I assume you realise that you must be punished?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, looking down at her skirt again. She pulled at the 'V' neck of her navy pullover, worn under her blazer.
"I had considered suspending you, but I feel such action unfavourable. You need to be in school. I also gave a series of Saturday detentions much thought, as I did to 'in school isolation' which I despise using. Therefore, I'm going to award you a punishment that I equally despise. It's something I haven't authorised for four years on a girl of your age."
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