'Three strikes and you're out...'

How I fell foul of a particular school rule

THE HEADMASTER'S ANNOUNCEMENT

The lawmakers in the state of California who brought in the 'Three Strikes and You're Out' legislation to deal with persistent criminals probably never realised that this method of dealing with wrongdoers was pioneered at my English boys' comprehensive school in the 1970s! I can clearly recall in my mind's eye the morning assembly when Mr Mackenzie, the headmaster, told us that there had been far too much latecoming by pupils that term and that it had to stop. In future any boy who was late arriving at school three times in a term without an extremely good excuse would receive the cane.

This announcement was of particular interest to me since I had been reprimanded for latecoming in the past. I was not really an early morning person and always took a good while to fully wake up. Because of this I sometimes missed my 8.15 bus, relying on the fact that if I took the 8.30 bus I could still expect to reach school in time - although I would be cutting it fine.

This was the long summer term and there were still a couple of months left of the school year when Mr Mackenzie issued his warning to latecomers. With the thought of the cane in the back of my mind I did attempt to change my habits as regards early rising, but circumstances contrived to make me late twice more that term (although only by a few minutes, thanks to the 8.30 bus being delayed in traffic). The first time I received a warning and the second occasion earned me a detention, with the threat of dire consequences if I was late again.

The dread fear of the cane hung over me like a thunder cloud for the remaining weeks of the summer term. I even acquired an alarm clock for my room, just in case my mother was late in rousing me, and aimed always to catch the 8.15 bus. My downfall came during the Monday of the final week of term when I set off to the bus stop as usual only to realise that I had forgotten my homework. Turning up at school without my history essay would most likely earn me a detention. Since Friday was the last day of term, when school broke up at mid-day, this would not be an ordinary evening detention but would have to be served on Friday afternoon when most boys had gone off home for the summer holidays. This possibility filled me with gloom so I quickly turned around and walked back home to retrieve the work. 'I just hope the 8.30 bus isn't running late' I thought to myself, trying not to worry.

What happened was a lot worse, for as it turned out the 8.30 was almost full up. All the other people in the queue managed to find places on the bus but as I attempted to step aboard the conductor said 'Sorry son, we're full up. Don't worry - the 8.45 will be along soon.' I almost shouted out 'But if you don't let me on the bus I shall get a caning,' but felt that the conductor would probably only laugh at my plight. The bus pulled away and I waited at the stop with my head bowed, feeling very sorry for myself.

Luckily the 8.45 had seats available, but to make matters even worse this bus got caught in a traffic jam. I was more than half an hour late for school, missing both registration and assembly, and my offence was duly noted. During the morning break my form master told me that I was to report directly to the headmaster at the end of afternoon lessons.

A MISERABLE DAY

That day passed miserably for me as all I could think about was my imminent appointment with the cane. I had suffered corporal punishment at the hands of the headmaster on a couple of occasions in the past and had found the experience extremely unpleasant. However much boys might make light of the cane and claim that they were not frightened of a 'swishing', in my experience this was usually all bluster. The cane hurt an awful lot and nobody emerged from a session with Mr Mackenzie with a smile on his face.

At four o'clock I made my unwilling way to the headmaster's office, feeling miserable and dejected. It was almost the end of term - what rotten luck it had been to miss no less than two buses that morning. If only I hadn't forgotten my homework. If only...if only...

I knocked timidly at the door and Mrs Dane, the grey-haired school secretary, informed me that Mr Mackenzie was delayed in the staffroom and that I was to wait outside. There was a hard wooden bench in the corridor and I took a seat: this was just like waiting to see the dentist. Then I cheered up a little when it occurred to me that since it was so near the end of the school year the headmaster might let me off a caning. Even an end of term Friday afternoon detention would be better than a swishing, I thought. I had been waiting for almost 20 minutes, turning matters over and over in my mind, when Mr Mackenzie came striding along the corridor and ushered me into his spacious office. Mrs Dane continued busily typing away in the corner as the headmaster addressed me:

'No doubt you recall my announcement in assembly earlier this term when I warned boys about persistent latecoming. I said that boys who were late three times would get the cane. What do you have to say for yourself?'

'I...I'm sorry I was late today sir....but the bus was full...'

'But you were more than half an hour late, boy! A few minutes lateness might be excusable but half an hour! I really cannot see any reason not to cane you.'

'BEND OVER THE CHAIR...'

Mr Mackenzie picked up a chair and placed it in the centre of the room. 'Bend over the chair, boy!'

Mrs Dane took a break from her typing to observe the proceedings as the headmaster picked up a long medium thickness punishment cane and swished it a few times through the air.

'How many strokes do you think I should give this tardy boy, Mrs Dane?'

'As many as he deserves, headmaster!' said the middle-aged spinster with a twinkle in her eye.

'Alright - I shall give him one stroke for each occasion he has arrrived late for school, and one extra stroke to serve as a future warning. How many strokes is that boy?'

'Four sir,' I muttered, feeling both frightened and embarrassed.

I shut my eyes and steeled myself for the first stroke: I knew from past experience that Mr Mackenzie did not spare the rod. I heard a swishing sound as the cane scythed through the air and then felt an explosion of pain in my backside. I gasped from the shock and redoubled my grip on the chair. The second stroke was not long in coming - more searing pain which made me clench my teeth hard.

'I trust you're learning your lesson, boy,' said Mr Mackenzie. 'There are two more to go.'

Twice more the cane bit into my suffering backside and then I was permitted to rise from the chair. I was very close to tears but managed to hold them back. I did not want the school secretary of all people to see me blubbing.

'Alright, that's all over and done with. You'd better head off home. Your parents will be wondering where you are.'

'Yes sir. Thank you sir.'

I left Mr Mackenzie's office, gingerly rubbing my throbbing backside. Whatever I might think about the ethics of corporal punishment (like most pupils, I had voted for the abolition of the cane when the matter had been aired at the school debating society earlier in the year) I had to admit that I had brought this particular trial upon myself. The headmaster had warned us very clearly about latecoming and I had disregarded that warning, despite being given no less than two chances.

It had been a case of 'Three strikes and you get a very sore backside.'