by Louis Woodley
"Miss Whittaker, you will remain after class and see me."
Kerri Whittaker had been daydreaming out the window, waiting for Mr. Nelson's History class to finally be over with so that she could escape and enjoy her precious few hours of free time that her boarding school afforded her. It was nothing personal against him; it was just that she didn't care about memorizing pointless dates, people and events from centuries ago. Especially during the last class period of the day.
And that was all that he seemed to care about, those bygone days. There was no hope of engaging him on any topic relevant to a teenage girl at all. But good lord, the man could natter on for hours about the multitude of Roman emperors as if he'd known them all personally. Perhaps he had.
No, while Roger Nelson had taught at the Gilford Girls' School for approaching 30 years now, he wasn't quite that old. But to Kerri's way of thinking, he was boring. And because she wasn't interested in the subject matter she frequently found herself in trouble with him for not paying attention. On one memorable occasion, he'd asked her a question three times without getting a response from her; her classmates' giggling had finally snapped her out of her trance.
But she'd only been disrespectful enough to earn a trip to the Headmistress' office on a single occasion. She'd been caught clumsily trying to read a magazine while hiding it inside her textbook. Her naked backside had received three slashes from Mrs. Barnette's cane and she'd been made to apologize for her rudeness. But the message only stayed with her for about a week before she began slacking off in class yet again.
And that slackness applied to her class work as well. Homework looked like it was scribbled at the last minute so she'd have something to hand in. And her papers showed that she'd waited until the last day to start on them, just as she threw away points on exams with careless mistakes. Mr. Nelson knew that she was capable of scoring much higher; she was actually capable of coherent arguments if she would just put more of an effort into fleshing them out.
In short, he found the teenage girl to be the most aggravating student he was forced to deal with this year. And now she'd vexed him once again.
The bell rang for the end of the day and the rest of the class bolted to make the most of their few unstructured hours. A few looked sympathetically at Kerri as they passed, but most seemed to think that she was getting what she deserved for once again earning their teacher's ire.
She walked over to his desk, already anticipating what would be expected of her. But he shocked her by speaking first.
"Well, congratulations Miss Whittaker; I should have known that if anyone could have done it then it would be you."
"Sir?" Kerri had no idea what he was talking about.
"I had one wish for my birthday today, and do you-"
"It's your birthday today, sir?" she interrupted.
"You have a flair for picking up on the obvious, Miss Whittaker. I just stated that it was my birthday, didn't I?"
"Sorry, sir; happy birthday Mr. Nelson."
"Well thanks to you, it isn't anymore."
"Sir?"
"What I was trying to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, was that my wish for today was to make it through without having any girls misbehaving in my classes. And I was 12 minutes away from having that come true, but then you came along to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Okay, let's get this over with; I'm sure you could do this in your sleep by now."
Kerri leaned across the edge of the desk after pulling her skirt up over her back, leaving her regulation white knickers on display. Meanwhile, Mr. Nelson had pulled out his 18-inch wooden ruler from his desk drawer. It and Kerri's backside were well acquainted.
"You've got your usual six coming, no moving, etc., etc., etc."
"Yes, Mr. Nelson. Sorry, sir." Kerri braced herself to be whacked.
But the swats were delivered in almost a perfunctory manner; it was a task performed without a great deal of effort or emotion. He took the ruler back a couple of feet and then snapped it sharply across the middle of her bottom. She barely even bothered to grit her teeth and huff as five more spanks followed.
But things changed dramatically for Kerri when Mr. Nelson expressed his disgust at having to punish her once again.
"Alright Miss Whittaker, you may stand. I can only pray that this has taught you something, but based on prior experience I anticipate that we will continue to repeat this get-together multiple times before the year ends. To my chagrin, a few swats on your bottom don't seem to get through to you at all, and Mrs. Barnette isn't supportive of having sterner measures applied to miscreants like yourself. So this little dance will likely continue for the foreseeable future."
Pausing for a moment to glare at her, he continued, "However, you should consider yourself lucky. When I started teaching here, my allowable response would have been far more severe and would have ended this problem long ago. Instead, we're now supposed to be more enlightened, and a few meaningless smacks are all that I'm allowed to give you. Back in the day, the first time you lollygagged around in my class you wouldn't have been let off nearly so easily, with a few namby-pamby whacks on your knickers after class. Back then you would have found yourself across my desk in front of the entire class, with your knickers around your ankles. And you would have received 'six of the best' from my cane across your buttocks and thighs. A couple of doses of bamboo would have cured your behavior in no time."
Kerri stared at him, and gulped. Mr. Nelson carried on with his tirade.
"Instead, we continue to play this game. I give you an ineffectual punishment, you apologize nicely and promise to do better, and even manage to sound sincere about it. But yet here we are again, dealing with the same behavior. Now don't bother insulting my intelligence by claiming that this time you really mean it, just get out of my sight and let me salvage what remains of this joyous occasion."
Kerri felt terrible. She wasn't like this in her other classes, but somehow apathy always seemed to win out here. What he'd said had been accurate; she'd made promises after getting smacked but hadn't changed her behavior. And now she'd ruined a birthday she didn't even know he was having. She resolved to do something to make it up to him, although she had no idea of what that might entail.
"You're right Mr. Nelson. I have been a terrible student, but I really will try to do better."
"Miss Whittaker, you are not a 'terrible' student; I can see a great deal of potential in you, if you would only bother to apply yourself. Instead, you daydream through my lectures, spend as little time as humanly possible on completing your homework assignments, and needlessly squander points on papers and exams by not paying attention to details. If you showed a modicum of self-discipline you could actually be one of the better students in this class. I know your grades in your other classes are good, but yet for some reason you're content to wallow in mediocrity here. I find that highly disappointing but I can't force you to change; that has to come from within. Now, get out of my sight!"
"Yes sir, I'm going."
A thought suddenly occurred to her; she now had an idea of how she could make things right with her teacher.
"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what are you planning to do to celebrate your birthday?"
"I will be going home, and then after dining I will continue reading my biography of Marcus Aurelius, the last of the Five Good Emperors of Rome."
"That's all?" Kerri blurted. Her teacher just glared at her.
"I'm sorry, sir. I just meant, you're not having any sort of celebration?"
"No, when you get to my age there is little worth celebrating. Hence my hopes for a trouble-free day from my students, which you successfully torpedoed."
The plan quickly came together in Kerri's mind; now she knew how to redeem herself in her teacher's eyes. But it would require some preparation and she had little time to waste. So she offered a final apology and rushed away.
She only had a couple of hours where she was allowed to leave the school grounds for the nearby village, and she'd already wasted time by being held back after class. Thankfully, one of the local shopkeepers allowed families to set up accounts at the beginning of the year and have the girls draw down expenditures as needed. That way she didn't have to detour all the way back to her room to dig around for money. Instead, she was able to go directly to the shop and find what she needed.
Mr. Nelson had just settled down into his armchair when he heard a fervent knocking at his cottage door. Who could be bothering him at this time of day? But the noise wouldn't go away, so he reluctantly marked his place in his book and got up from his chair. But he never anticipated who he would find waiting on the other side of his door.
"Happy birthday, Mr. Nelson," Kerri announced and thrust a wrapped present at him. He was totally flummoxed and could only say that she was off school grounds after hours.
"Yes, sir, I know. But I told Mrs. Barnette that it was your birthday and I had a present for you and she gave me permission to come and deliver it."
She'd been forced to admit to her headmistress the circumstances behind the gift and she had concurred that such a present would both brighten his day and clear the air between them. So she'd given Kerri dispensation to visit her teacher's home, and commended her for trying to rectify the problems she'd caused. She even provided assistance to her student.
"May I please come in, sir?"
Mr. Nelson remembered his manners and stepped aside so she could enter.
"Please, sir, go ahead and open it."
To pacify her he did so, but when he did his initial reaction was of profound ire. "Is this your idea of a joke?"
He was holding a large wooden hairbrush. However, he himself was balding for the most part and his remaining hair was cut as short as a military recruit's. A hairbrush seemed a totally inappropriate, if not downright insulting, gift from a student. So his first impression was understandable.
"Oh, no, sir, I wouldn't dare make fun of you."
He eyed her and she quickly continued.
"It's just that my mum has a similar one... feels about the same... in her bedroom that... and, well... I guess you could say that... she doesn't really use it for her hair... or mine either. She uses it... well, a bit lower down... if you follow what I mean, sir... when I've done something wrong. So I thought... you were talking about how you wished things could be like they used to... what you could do to girls like me... so I couldn't buy a cane, but..."
The penny finally dropped for Roger Nelson. Good lord! Was this silly little twit of a girl actually suggesting that he put his new present to use against her backside? The offer was tempting but also fraught with danger.
"Miss Whittaker, are you saying that you wish me to treat you like a naughty little girl and turn you over my knee for a hiding?"
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