Originally Posted by srvy:
The worst whoopings I ever got was in Jr HS and HS. There was corporal punishment back then. It seemed all the male teachers had specialized paddles behind deck on wall or in office. The HS crafts reach had one he made out of 3/8" plastic with holes drilled in it it hurt and the assistant principal was no slouch with a wooden one. I will always remember coach Eisley first day of sophomore HS gym class we are all in the locker room and he is giving us some instructions. I was yakking and cutting up with a couple pals as he slowly eased over near me. Boom it was like the lights were turned off then on. He took back of his hand knuckles to front top my head and damn near knocked me out raised a knot. I was quiet as a tit mouse when coach was speaking after that.
Last paddling I got at school was fifth grade. Got in a fight with a kid named Perry and we both got paddled by the principal. He cried, I didn't. Ended up being a good day. [Reply]
Originally Posted by srvy:
The worst whoopings I ever got was in Jr HS and HS. There was corporal punishment back then. It seemed all the male teachers had specialized paddles behind deck on wall or in office. The HS crafts reach had one he made out of 3/8" plastic with holes drilled in it it hurt and the assistant principal was no slouch with a wooden one. I will always remember coach Eisley first day of sophomore HS gym class we are all in the locker room and he is giving us some instructions. I was yakking and cutting up with a couple pals as he slowly eased over near me. Boom it was like the lights were turned off then on. He took back of his hand knuckles to front top my head and damn near knocked me out raised a knot. I was quiet as a tit mouse when coach was speaking after that.
No Lie. I got a swat from my PE teacher who played minor league baseball for the Twins...his tool of choice was a bat with one side sawed flat. He went for the bleachers with my ass one day for something I didn't do.
The following year he needed me on the O-Line / D-Line and he was hyper competitive...so he apologized in front of everybody per my request. Really surprised me. [Reply]
Originally Posted by fan4ever:
No Lie. I got a swat from my PE teacher who played minor league baseball for the Twins...his tool of choice was a bat with one side sawed flat. He went for the bleachers with my ass one day for something I didn't do.
The following year he needed me on the O-Line / D-Line and he was hyper competitive...so he apologized in front of everybody per my request. Really surprised me.
my dad gave me the option, get an ass whoopin, or get grounded for a week. I took the ass whoopin most of the time, cause a few minutes later, i was outside playing with my buddies! last time i got hit though, i was like 12 maybe! that was only because i punched a hole in the wall, so i deserved it, and it was by my mom! lol ever since then, i never let my anger out on anything that could break! got a punching bag for that after! haha also, my Dad taught me how to drywall at an early age, so i patched the wall by myself! [Reply]
I never got paddled at school. I love telling my students that it was an option at one time.....and still should be. Kids always claim they would hit back...yeah...good luck.
We would have a lot less problems if that were the case today. It does not need to be used a lot...just once in a while.
Many got it at school and got it again at home. [Reply]
Dad was usually all bluster — “Don’t make me come up there!” as my sister and I laughed it off. He also traveled a lot on business, so Mom was stuck with the discipline. And I was a handful.
She used to beat my ass with a wooden hairbrush. [Reply]
It really depends on what I had done.
Mom anything from a stern talking to a wooden spoon on whatever part of the body she could reach. I found out the hard way if I ran she would smack me in the back of the head or across the shoulders.
Dad was anything from a switch which I had to cut and it better not be big or flimsy. It had to be just right or you had to go get another one to being punched and kicked once I was down. I spent a year in a partial body cast from having my sternum broke by him. I barely speak to him even now some 37 years later. [Reply]
Dad's go-to was a paddle he made out of a 2×4, with an evil face drawn on, and a tally for me and my sister. First one to 5 owed him money for his services.
Also, we had to hold absolutely still and take a direct shot. If he missed or wasn't satisfied, it didn't count.
He was an opportunist, though. Whatever was handy, be it a hot wheels track, belt, hand, air compressor hose, my own BB gun (don't shoot what you're not supposed to), he was always ready.
Mom tried, but just didn't have the upper body strength. [Reply]
My mom would slap us. It got to the point that it never hurt anymore. She figured that out and would say “wait till your dad gets home”.
We’d wait and hear him pull up. We’d go hide somewhere but could hear that familiar sound of a belt going through belt loops at 50 MPH. Then he’d whip our asses with it. Never bare ass. We learned our lesson pretty fast. [Reply]
I didn’t ever get the belt. Probably bc my parents didn’t have to use it.
If I ****ed up, I had to do manual labor around the house. Pick weeds, clean the house, fold all laundry, etc.
Brother and I ****ed up badly 1 time and we went to my dad’s friends farm in the country. Our entire weekend was spent doing manual labor. Pick up horse shit, clean shit out of the chicken coup, etc.
Basically I picked up shit from every animal 20 hours of that weekend in 90+ degree heat and missed hanging with friends.
Needless to say I didn’t **** up badly like that again [Reply]