by Mike London
Reported to the Head of Year
For almost the whole of the school day that Monday, ever since Mr Morwood had told her to report to the Head of Year after school, Eleanor had been unable to concentrate on her work. This was unlike Eleanor who was indisputably the top pupil in the top stream of the fourth year at her school. That day, however, she had been told off for inattention several times and might well have earned herself punishment, had the teachers not known that she was already booked for a painful encounter with Mr Downey. When the bell finally rang to bring the last lesson of the day to an end, Anna turned to Eleanor and did her best to wish her friend good luck in the coming ordeal without embarrassing her more.
Anna was the only one of Eleanor's friends who had had to report to a Head of Year - in her case twice, both times to Mr Seddon in the second year. Eleanor had been asking her for details about what happened and what it would be like. According to Anna it hadn't been too bad, even the second time when, as a repeat offender, she had had to take four hard slipper whacks over the back of her school skirt.
"How bad was it, Anna, did it really hurt?" asked Eleanor.
"Of course, it did, Ellie! It's meant to hurt, that's the whole point. But it really wasn't that bad, honestly. By the time I went to bed all the marks had practically gone and the sting had disappeared. It wasn't half as bad as when Mum takes her hairbrush to me!"
This was little comfort to Eleanor. Unlike Anna, she wasn't smacked at home and the idea of marks lasting for hours sounded awful. Now, after almost a day of unhappy anticipation, the time had come. Anna tried her best to help.
"Good luck, Ellie! It'll all be over soon. Is there anything you'd like me to do for you that'd help?"
Eleanor had actually been thinking about this. She didn't know how long the slippering would take and she felt that she might need a bit of time afterwards before facing her mother.
"Yes please, Anna. Could you give my mum a ring and tell her that I'll be a bit late getting home - that we're just doing something round your house? Otherwise she might worry and phone someone - and I don't want anyone telling her I've got the slipper." Eleanor blushed as she said this, thinking of what was about to happen.
"Yes, of course Ellie, no problem. I'll call from the phone box just outside. It really will be over soon, it will hurt but, honestly, it's not too bad. But you'd better be going, you don't want to be late."
Eleanor knew this was good advice so she made her way through the corridors as they filled with happy pupils, glad that the school day was over, to classroom 12, Mr Downey's form room. Two boys from the C stream class, Paul Hale and Robert Peterson, were already waiting there and she lined up behind them. The two boys smiled to each other but didn't say anything - somehow in the peculiar way rumours circulate in schools they had already known that an A stream girl had been sent to the Head of Year along with them. A few seconds later another boy, from the B stream, joined them. Eleanor recognized him as Chris Williams and frowned. She knew he had a reputation as one of the naughtier boys in his class, so it wasn't really a surprise for him to be there but she had hoped that no-one who knew her would witness her humiliation. Still, Chris would be getting it too, and they had always got along well enough together.
She didn't have long to think about it. The corridors were emptying now and soon they could hear the approaching tread of Mr Downey. Eleanor bit her lower lip and bitterly regretted having gone too far once too often. The tall master walked past them and opened the door, telling the waiting pupils to go in and sit down. There were only four of them and Mr Downey got them all to sit at the front. The two C stream boys sat next to each other and Chris sat next to Eleanor.
The teacher stood at the front and pointed at one of the C streamers. "You! Name and form and why are you here?"
Paul Hale was aware that Mr Downey knew both his name and the reason for his being there. Still, if the teacher wanted to do things that way, he would go along.
"Hale, 4C, sir. I was messing about in Miss Andrews' class and she told me to report to you after school."
"Messing about? What were you doing?"
The boy squirmed apologetically. "Well, Peterson was showing me some drawings and we were having a bit of a laugh."
"A bit of a laugh! Is that what you come to school for?"
"No, sir, sorry."
"So, you were disrupting a lesson. Was this just once?"
Paul knew that Miss Andrews would have given Mr Downey the full details, so he said unwillingly, "No, sir. She warned us a few times but we kept on."
"So, repeated disruption of the class and disobedience! And did Miss Andrews impose any other punishment or just tell you to report to me?"
Hale looked at the boy next to him and paused, but he knew he had no choice.
"No sir. She gave us both a hundred lines."
"So even after your teacher had punished you by giving you lines you persisted in disruption and disobedience?"
"Yes, sir, sorry."
Mr Downey paused and looked straight at the boy. "I'm not sure that you're sorry yet, Hale, but you will be. I'm afraid that Miss Andrews was rather lenient. You will write me two hundred lines by Thursday morning before lessons. I will give you the sentence to write out after I have dealt with you all. Sit down!"
Paul sat down and Robert, sitting next to him, stood up.
"Peterson, 4C, sir. Well, sir, the same as Hale. He's already said."
"Still, I'd like to hear some more. These 'drawings', what were they?"
Eleanor thought that the boy half smiled as he answered "Body parts, sir."
Mr Downey was not impressed. "Obscene drawings, you mean?"
"Yes, sir."
"So, you brought these offensive drawings into the lesson and then you and Hale continued to disrupt the class even after she had given you a hundred lines."
Robert did not say anything but pulled his cheek in slightly as he looked at the teacher.
"Well then, I am increasing your imposition too. You will write out three hundred lines for me. I'll give you the sentence to write out along with Hale. I will also suggest to all of your class teachers that any misbehaviour whatsoever in their classes for the next week means that you should be sent straight back to me. Now sit down!"
Eleanor thought that Peterson looked rather annoyed, but he sat down silently.
Chris stood up. Eleanor flinched and moaned inwardly. It seemed to be coming so close now the boy next to her was standing up.
"Williams, sir, 4B. Mr Thomas sent me for being rude to him in class."
"Was that all it was? Mr Thomas has told me that you were answering him back and arguing with him in front of the class, as well as being rude."
"Well, yes sir, sorry, I know I shouldn't have."
"Hmm, well, I hope you will remember that in future. We're three weeks into term and yet already this is not the first time that you've been sent here this term, is it?"
"No, sir, sorry."
"Let's hope it's the last! All right, sit down!"
Poor Eleanor was panic stricken as she forced herself to stand up. She could feel herself blushing as she got to her feet.
"Come on girl, has the cat got your tongue? Name and form and why you've been sent to me!"
"I'm really sorry, sir. Eleanor White of 4A. Mr Morwood told me to report to you because I was late for the History lesson this morning."
Mr Downey sighed.
"Why do so many naughty pupils think that they can avoid deserved punishment by telling half-truths? Don't you know that Mr Morwood will have spoken to me? It isn't just once you've been late and not only in History lessons either. There is a repeated pattern of acting as though rules don't apply to you and trading on your position as top of the class to get away with things. Well, the rules do apply to you and I hope that will become very clear to you after this afternoon. Yours has been an extended pattern of misbehaviour, so I am going to suggest to your class teachers that you, like Peterson, be sent to me for any future misbehaviour. In your case I think a fortnight of being one misdemeanour away from being sent to me will encourage you to behave yourself. All right, sit down!"
Eleanor was on the brink of tears as she sat down. She felt completely overwhelmed. She had never before heard of a zero-tolerance policy of teachers having to send pupils to the Head of Year but just then she was definitely resolved never to be sent there again.
Mr Downey walked to his desk and took a large and old plimsoll out of the top drawer. He took hold of it by the heel and whacked the sole down hard onto the desk. It sounded like a pistol shot in the silent classroom. Eleanor's eyes widened and she gasped.
"Right. Let's get started. Hale, take your jacket off and come out to the front of the class."
The boy obeyed, leaving his jacket on the bench of his desk.
"Now face the door and bend over!"
Hale stood just a yard in front of Eleanor's desk and bent down, holding his legs. Eleanor could see how the charcoal grey fabric of his trousers stretched over his buttocks. She suddenly realised that soon the boys would be able to see her own bottom as she bent over.
"Right boy, stay there. You're getting six whacks."
Mr Downey walked to just behind the bending boy and to his left, with the plimsoll in his right hand. He nodded, satisfied with Hale's position.
"Right boy, sit there till I tell you to get up."
He tapped the plimsoll lightly on both of the boy's bottom cheeks to check his aim and then lifted it up. Eleanor watched intently, filled with the realisation that what was happening to Hale was going to be happening to her in a few minutes. Suddenly the teacher smashed the plimsoll down, the rubber sole colliding with the boy's right buttock. Paul's body shook at the sudden impact. Eleanor gasped audibly; she had never thought that they would be hit as hard as that. She was amazed that the force of the whack hadn't actually pushed the boy forward and couldn't understand how he seemed to take it so stoically.
Mr Downey had heard her gasp and angrily called "Silence!" Eleanor sat miserably in her place not wishing to angry the teacher unnecessarily and wishing fervently that she had not been so stupid as to use up all the goodwill of her teachers.
Mr Downey methodically continued to whack the plimsoll down onto the boy's buttocks, varying his aim slightly so as to make sure that he had covered the whole area of his bottom. Eleanor watched on in despair, wondering how he was able to take the infliction in silence.
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