I was caned a number of times at Primary School, and most of the time given for the right reason because I was a naughty boy except once which I will reminisce about later. Most of my friends had the stick at one time or another, back in the late 1960s and 1970s it was part of our education.
It is funny but I can remember the two times I received six-of-the-best and can remember the reasons and one other time but that was only for four. The cane was despatched by the headmaster and his deputy, Mr Walsh (Lardy), Mr Fin (Finny) respectively one of whom seemed to enjoy it more, and that was Mr Fin.
Lardy did is duty and I got the feeling it was a task he didn’t enjoy even at my tender age compared with Finny. I would rather six off Lardy then four or two off Finny as his caning sessions were always the most painful after the deed. His favourite weapon of choice, which I can remember to this day, a bamboo cane frayed at the whacking end making every whack feel like three or four. If you were to move or so much as flinch, it could be seen as a negative reaction and could lead to a retake.
Lardy was our Mr Chips beloved by everyone and with the respect of our parents, many of whom he had taught. I didn’t jump into the shallow end with my first caning as I received the magic six first time out thanks to Miss O'Reilly. I asked her how to spell ‘foghorn’ and next thing I know she was ordering me out of the class. I needed a stiff upper lip because the caning venue was to take place in front of Lardy’s class. He held my wrist as the caning begun – one, two, three, four, five, and the final sixth quick and sharp all on the one hand and I just stood there with my lips quivering I saved the crying until I return to class.
I never knew why I was caned but over the years I reckon she thought I said ‘Fu** O**’ but I was around nine-years-old with no knowledge of such a word in 1969. Even when I grew up with it still festering on my mind, I never had the bottle to ask her in case she sent me out of the room.
My last and final six was for the little ditty ‘Hitler he only as one ball’ told to me which I then spread around, a little bit. The next thing I knew I was standing in Lardy’s office with my arm out stretched about to receive six-of-the-best. That was my last year in Primary School the same term Lardy knocked on the door before the start of the year for permission to carry on caning which Mum and Dad were in full support.
The worst caning I got in school was from Finny when I was on the end of his fury. The beginning began with a group of friends deciding the church would make a good playground and ended up being lined-up against the wall and given a bollocking. It was out of school when we ‘desecrated’ the church but school and church being a Catholic were closely entwined. That day it was four but with the aforementioned frayed cane, it felt well into double figures. I do remember it stinging really bad and the quick, whip-like swoosh sound the cane made but I didn’t cry or maybe I did.
When I said desecrating the church, we were playing, running about not making blood sacrifices or a bit of devil worshiping but we might have well been going on the reaction of Finny. His face was bright red, blood vessels fit to burst shouting inches from my face covering me with spit. Still he was a good teacher.
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