Caning
I was caned a number of times. I cannot even remember why. I hadn’t done anything major.
The experience certainly did not fill me with a desire to keep on the straight and narrow. It filled me with fury and hatred.
I found the experience humiliating and extremely painful.
In my school teachers could cane you with up to six strokes and prefects could give you three.
Some people believe it creates better discipline and inculcates respect. It doesn’t. It creates fear and dislike.
On one occasion I was bent over the desk in front of the class and given three strokes with a thin cane. He put all the force into it that he could muster. I was determined not to react but I could not resist. It was excruciating. It made me gasp and brought tears to my eyes. I felt all those eyes on me and was embarrassed and humiliated that I could not control my response.
With reddened face and streaming eyes I was sent back to my place and allowed to stand. That was fortunate because it hurt so much that I don’t think I could have sat down.
That cane broke the skin in a long line across my buttocks. Under that split skin it swelled into a long hard welt three quarters of an inch wide. That remained solid for over a day. I had three of these long stripes across my bum. They gradually softened and subsided. The bruising was purple and then gradually spread into great brown and purple bruises over the whole of my buttocks. It was painful for a long time. I had to sleep on my front.
In terms of my attitude and behaviour – the fury and hatred did not die away with the bruising. I was not merely resentful I was consumed with hatred. I lost interest in the lessons and despised the teachers concerned and did everything I could to get back at them.
Caning produces quiet classrooms and poor education.
I took those experiences with me into my teaching career. Education is about relationship. When it worked best for me was when I was in a classroom with a bunch of eager students, lots of humour, exchanges and laughter, mutual respect, and a love of the subject. I did not need a cane.
Sadly, when I went home after my caning experience, my parents took the attitude that I must have deserved it.
They were wrong.