Not being one to promote insurrection in the classroom, I still had to say I give this little girl ten out of ten for a good kick to her teacher's cods.
When I was in high school we had a sadistic teacher who made the mistake of leaving bruises on one of the kids. When his father saw them, he fronted the headmaster, who in turn carpeted the teacher. However, the teacher simply changed his methods, and a week or two later administered a 'crowpeck', a thump to the head with a single knuckle, to the same kid. The kid, with the advantage of surprise, decked the teacher with a single punch, and went straight to the head's office.
The teacher was moved on, to wreak his sadism elsewhere in the education system.
Well done young lady ! That teacher is a rick with a silent 'p'
Par for the course at my schools.We'd get thrashed by teachers frequently with the weapon of choice being a half inch thick leather strap across the outstretched hand (male teachers) or the cane handle from a feather duster whipped across the back of the legs (female teachers).They didn't always need a reason,just did it when the mood took them.
I had a particularly unpleasant sadistic bullying pervert of a French teacher, who used to have various ways of publicly humiliating us lads in class, and also tweaked sideburns, very painful indeed.
When we complained to our parents, he would meet them at the school gates, oozing unctuous charm and lies, and make our parents believe that we were making it up, as he was 'such a nice man'. He was a foul and sick man and I hope he's burning in the fires of hell.
I often wish I'd kicked him in the nuts. All we did was sabotage his car. Well done that girl.
I experienced a lot of sarcasm from teachers at school, but to the best of my recollection, on each occasion I was being an ass at the time and deserved it. More importantly, it had the desired effect.
After 12 years of crewroom banter, I decided to never use sarcasm when I became a schoolteacher, and always worked in schools where the other teachers thought the same. Unless you have an all male student body consisting entirely of strong characters, I don't think it's the best way of doing things, and even then it should only be used to someone making an ass of themselves.
This is probably the best way to do it. I had teachers exactly like this.
We had teacher at Luqa Junior - name escapes me. Tall ginger guy with a thin ginger 'tache. His favourite routine was to drop something in front of you, order you to pick it up then kick you in the 4r5e as you bent down. Other punishment was a table tennis bat accross the palms. I was 8 - 11 at the time. Sadistic bullying barsteward.
Liking the video, but I thought with this thread title, it would have involved priests.
Sitting at a meeting one evening, accompanying a friend I listened to a speaker going on about the abuse he received as a child at a religious school.
Kind of shot himself in the foot when one person during questions asked school he attended which was a state school with no religious involvement what so ever.
In addition as questioner pointed out were not his parents revolutionary marxists who detested all religion and was he not espousing this a number of years previously at University.
As my friend had also being at same Uni and then twigged who speaker was she joined in.
Meeting broke up soon enough, well fight helped it.
Majority of abuse is and has always been carried out by relatives in or around the home not by religious people.
To make a long story short, as I've told this before.
After returning to the US after living in England for six years I was enrolled in the local High School. Because of state law, I had to take a semester of Oklahoma history. No problem, except one, the teacher was also the high school football coach. Due to my size the teacher/coach wanted me to play football, I refused.
My refusal caused problems, for me. Eventually the teacher/coach decided that I needed corporal punishment, in the form of being hit on my buttocks with a cricket looking type wooden bat, to improve my school spirit.
I informed the fat little fart*, that if he tried to attack me, I would take the cricket bat looking thing and stick up where there is never any sunshine, or words to that effect. Off to the headmaster's/principle's office we go.
Father was called to come to the school, father was not happy about being called to the school. He walked into the headmaster's/principle's office and requested to know what the problem was. The teacher/coach informed my father of my lack of school spirit and his solution there of.
My father sat silent for a few seconds and then replied. He, being an Air Force pilot understood the need for discipline and esprit de corps (school spirit). Therefore, he continued, he would allow said punishment, with one condition. And I started to die a slow death.
Whatever the punishment was given me by the teacher/coach, with the cricket looking bat, my father would in turn give back to the teacher/coach.
I received no corporal punishment, did not have to play football and received an A for the course.
* I did not call him that, I was thinking it, but did not say it. I was completely respectful. If had been disrespectful, I would caught holy hell from my father.
P.S. Oh, I earned the A, aced every tests, as even back then I had a love of history. Developed while living in England, where I was surround by history.
For many years the Headmaster, Top Banana, call him what you will, at a leading English Public School, Repton, was a Rev Dr., later Bishop of Chester and later Archbishop of Canterbury.
You can read about him in “Boy”, by Roald Dahl [Puffin Books, Penguin, I986, ISBN 978-0-14-241381-4].
We read at page 145:
Quote:
Michael was ordered to take down his trousers and kneel on the Headmaster’s sofa with the top half of his body hanging over one end of the sofa. The great man then gave him one terrific crack. After that, there was a pause. The cane was put down and the Headmaster began filling his pipe from a tin of tobacco. He also started to lecture the kneeling boy about sin and wrongdoing. Soon, the cane was picked up again and a second tremendous crack was administered upon the trembling buttocks. Then the pipe-filling business and the lecture went on for maybe another thirty seconds. The came the third crack of the cane. Then the instrument of torture was put once more upon the table and a box of matches was produced. A match was struck and applied to the pipe. The pipe failed to light properly. A fourth stroke was delivered, with the lecture continuing. This slow and fearsome process went on until ten terrible strokes had been delivered, and all the time, over the pipe-smoking and the match-striking, the lecture on evil and wrong-doing and sinning and misdeeds and malpractice went on without a stop. It even went on as the strokes were being administered. At the end of it all, a basin, a sponge, and a small clean towel were produced by the Headmaster, and the victim was told to wash away the blood before pulling up his trousers.
This is taken verbatin from a book freely available on sale through several editions, so I take it no challenge was made to its publication, and that the allegations are true.
If that is so, what word would a dispassionate PPRuNer find for that man? "Pervert”? That scarcely seems to suffice. He officiated, I believe, at the Coronation of Her Majesty.
I never attended a school where that kind of brutality was practised, but frequently I see from those who did comment in terms of “a good swishing”, and “six of the best”. That passes my understanding.
When the victims of that sort of brutality departed from durance vile and reached man’s estate, did it occur to none that a wee clandestine visit in the still of the night to the Headmaster was in order, with heavy bag for the Headmaster’s head, the forcible and discreet removal of the Headmaster to a select spot equipped with cane for the administration of six, or as here, ten of the best to the Headmasterly buttocks? Is there no such case in record? Or perhaps off the record?
According to some of the russian comments, it was a staged video for their version of MTV. The new channel (which is mostly going to be reality tv shows and stuff) is called "Ю" (you). And their slogan is “Ю ЭТО ТЫ” (You is You), which just happens to be repeated over and over by the teacher in this video....
I went to Repton, albeit quite a while after Roald Dahl.
That all took place in the days before one would make any great fuss about a thrashing: it was character building. By the time I got there the cane was long gone. RD wrote another short story about Repton and caning called "The Galloping Foxleigh" and was one of "Tales of The Unexpected" series. When we found the story we had to go and find the places that were referred to in the story: they ere all there, almost exactly as described.
I would like to say that I turned out alright, but I think that is for others to judge. I became a pilot, so that' not so bad is it?
There is an account in Winston Churchill's biography of the brutal punishment administered by a Mr. Snyde-Kynnersley, similar to Davaar's description above. See Vol. 1, page 55.
I went to a "separate school" (i.e. provincially funded but Catholic) in Ontario in the 50's. In the place of honor in each classroom, above or beside the blackboard, hung "the strap".
The mere threat of "the strap" served its purpose. And through the early grades, occasionally a young miscreant received several strokes on the palm for some real or imagined infraction. Usually in front of the class. The key was to jump like you were shot as the strap touched your hand.
Now in Grade 6 we had a particularly young and inexperienced teacher, and of course the young delinquents are getting bigger. One day she cuffed one across the back of the head, who immediately jumped to his feet and yelled at her "don't you do that to me again!"
"Who do think you are?" says Miss Priss.
"I'm Francis Na****, and don't you ever do that to me again".
Now Francis was sentenced to 6 of "the strap". However, the teacher was so intimidated she couldn't summon the effort to put anything into it as Francis stared right at her the whole time.
Truly humiliated she was, just like our Russki friend here. Made for a great memory!
For the building of his character, I'd like to see the pervert sent away in that private limousine the OPP operate to the Queen's Hotel on ***** Road for the traditional two years less a day.
