Right there. Three swats with the “board of education” and you learned not to do it again. Mama saying wait until your daddy gets home was enough to make you wish you could sink into the floor. Three swats with daddy’s belt and you learned not to even think about doing anything close to that. That’s what should have been done to the kid.
I took piano lessons from the principle a bitter ole nun. Miss a note and she used the pointer on the back of your hand.
After Mom divorced, she had me stay at this lady’s house sometimes while she worked. The woman was kind and caring and a mother of two kids herself. However, if I got out of line, she was handy with a ping pong paddle. I eventually shaped up. I think.
Did your “Board Of Education” have “air conditioning” like the one my principal had? You know, so you could hear it whistling Dixie while it was en route to “administer” the “education”?