Swings Like a Girl
Friday morning, first thing, Joe put his revised and rewritten report into his saddlebag for school. Taking Miss Jones' advice, after breakfast Joe saddled Cochise with his suede quilted parade saddle along with two saddle blankets beneath. In a pinch he could use one of them to pad the saddle seat on his way home. It wouldn't be as effective as a cushion, but it took quite a bit of the sting off a sore behind when necessary. Miss Jones seemed pretty nice about the whole thing. But he was putting more of his hope on her slender arms, hoping she'd be "ladylike" delivering her swats.
He did fine on his Friday tests, spelling, math, and grammar. He enjoyed recess and lunch, mostly. Billy, his best friend, could tell that there was something wrong, and kept asking if everything was ok. Joe said yeah, everything was fine, but he didn't want to talk about it yet. He'd explain everything later. He didn't think he could bear the discussion before matters were finished. He was still way more nervous about settling up with Pa, than with Miss Jones.
Finally the school day, the entire school week, came to a close. He just stood up and fussed around about putting his books and papers away as the other students headed out the door. He didn't want to call attention to the fact that he was staying after school, and Miss Jones didn't say anything about it, so no one noticed. He saw Billy hanging back outside, probably waiting for him to come out, so he went out to him to quietly let him know he wasn't coming for a while.
"You might want to tell your dad for me, I've talked to Miss Jones about what we were discussing. I'll let him know how everything turned out next week."
"Oh, ok, Joe," Billy said. "I'll just head on home then?"
"Yeah, Billy. And thanks. Everything's ok, don't worry," Joe gave a wan smile, hearing what seemed to be a metronome ticking in his head, as he approached his doom. He walked back into the school house, wondering if this is how prisoners felt ascending the 13 steps of a scaffold before being hanged.
Miss Jones was sitting patiently at her desk with her hands folded, waiting for Joe to come stand before her.
"Well, Mr. Cartwright, thank you for doing your homework. I want three more next week. One Monday, that you do this weekend, one Wednesday, and one Friday. We will keep that up until they are all replaced, is that clear?"
"Yes, Miss," Joe answered.
"Good. Now, have you considered the question of an appropriate paddling since we spoke yesterday?"
"Yes, Miss," Joe answered, in low tones.
"And, do you still feel eleven swats is a just and fair punishment?"
"Yes, Miss," Joe took a deep breath as he spoke.
"Very well," she said with resolve as she got up, closed both schoolhouse doors, looked outside to be sure no one was dawdling nearby, and closed the windows so that sound would not carry. She then moved her armless chair out into the center of her teaching space and instructed Joe to take down the paddle from the wall and hand it to her, as she sat down.
Joe's heart was pounding through his ribs as he lifted down the paddle that felt all too heavy to him, though it was less than a half inch thick, and oval shaped, about the size of a child's seat, with a comfortable knurled handle that balanced the weight for an easy swing. He could barely breathe as he handed it to her.
"Joseph, why are you being paddled?" she asked, as he stood there in front of her.
"Because I cheated on my schoolwork, plagiarizing reports done by my older brother and passing them off as my own," he answered, clearly and honestly.
"Thank you, Joseph, now bend over," and she guided him across her knee.
"Swat!" the paddle made contact with Joe's work pants as they lay slack across his backside.
"Swat!" the second swat came down, barely making an impression through the three thick layers of padding Joe had arranged to protect his derriere this afternoon.
"Swat!" came a third blow, now making Joe feel even more guilty as he took this paddling without feeling even a hearty spank from it.
Finally he said, "Excuse me, Miss Jones?" as he stared at the floor beyond her left leg.
Miss Jones was not accustomed to being interrupted by a student during their paddling, but she paused politely to acknowledge him. "Yes, Mr. Cartwright?"
"Um, if you like, I could step inside and take down my pants and drawers. My shirt tail reaches below my knees in case you... um... in case..."
The teacher refrained from laughing as she realized his dilemma, and again had to admire his integrity. "I see. Are you intimating that this paddling is not really making the 'full impression' you believe you need?"
"Well, um, I don't really want to say too much that way, Miss. But, I 'spect you're looking for a bit more here, and I don't want to cheat on this, too. It just don't seem right."
"Again, young sir, I respect your character and integrity. Stand up, please," and she paused as he did so. "This is my way for paddling young students, the ones in primary school for whom just the event itself and the sound is frightening enough to impress them with my displeasure. No, Joseph, you need not adjust your clothing. Instead, I shall adjust my technique. I paddle older students, generally boys, in a far more assertive manner, that I believe will satisfy your concerns. One moment." She stood up, returned her chair to her desk, then pointed at the front center student desk with the paddle, saying, "Joseph, bend over that desk right there facing the back of the room, and grip the other edge with your hands."
Joe did as he was instructed and found he was in a far more vulnerable position than he had been. There was no slack whatever to his jeans, and his sit spots were significantly more accessible. He could only hope that she did indeed "swing like a girl" 'cause if she knew how to handle that paddle, he was gonna get tanned good.
"Ah, I forgot, Joseph. You say your shirttail reaches to your knees?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Then pull your shirt out of your britches please."
Joe had a really sinking feeling as he complied.
"Thank you," she said, folding his shirt tail up over his lower back. He was down to just drawers and pants, both drawn tight across his backside.
"Joseph, you will please count the swats out loud to me. I won't proceed until you count, so this will be as fast or slow as you determine. Do you understand?"
"Yes'm" Joe nodded, gripping the far edge of the desk.
"Do not cuss, let go of the desk, kick, or throw your hands back. If you do any of those things, the swat will be repeated. Is that clear?"
"Yes'm" Joe closed his eyes, beginning to think he may have made a serious error of judgment.
"Joseph, did you steal information and work done by your brother Adam, reworking it as your own?"
"Yes'm, I did."
"SWAT!" a full-swing whap sent a thousand bees and hornets crashing into Joe's backside.
"OWwww!" Joe whined, as he gasped with the fire in his britches. He held on to the desk though, and didn't stand up or kick. After just breathing for quite a few seconds, Joe said, "ONE, Ma'am"
"Thank you. Joseph, did you lie presenting that information as your own, failing to give credit to Adam for the work?"
Joe tried to prepare himself, knowing what would happen when he answered this. "Yes'm, I did."
"SWAT!" a second full-force swat ignited a royal fire beneath his drawers.
"YYyyeeeouch!" Joe whimpered, as tears began to spring at the corners of his eyes. He felt his backside sting, burn, and throb as he nearly lay on the desk. He tried shifting some weight from one foot to the other, seeking relief that refused to come. Once he felt a bit back in control, he said, "TWO, Ma'am"
"Thank you. Joseph, did you therefore cheat in this classroom, by plagiarizing your assignments and accepting good grades and credits, for work you did not do?"
It was torture, being bent over having to answer questions, knowing that once he did, he would take another blistering swat. Still, he knew he'd earned this, and he'd rather have his backside stinging, than feel like a liar or all the upset he'd felt for the past few days. So, strengthening his voice, he said, "Yes'm, I did."
"SWAT!" came another heavy-handed thwap, though maybe not quite so hard as the first two were.
"Owhowhowhow..." Joe wailed, definitely dancing on his toes this time. Still, while it added fuel to the fire already burning brightly beneath his britches, this swat wasn't near as bad as the first two. He started to sniffle, as he turned his face on his sleeves to brush off the tears. He didn't want Miss Jones to see him cry. Getting himself back in control, he raised his head and said, "THREE, Ma'am".
Miss Jones smiled, shaking her head at this pupil. She'd had no intention whatever of delivering so stern a paddling this afternoon. But clearly, young Mr. Cartwright had a very firm standard in his mind for what he would consider "appropriate and adequate" punishment for his crimes, and to fall short of his own expectations of "just desserts" would leave him in his guilt. Now that she had taken him into the realm of "justice well and truly satisfied", she could again extend some mercy.
"Thank you. Do you regret your misbehavior and have you learned your lesson?"
"Yes'm, I have," Joe answered, readying himself with tightly closed eyes and fists.
She hauled her arm back to about a three-quarter swing, and "SWAT!" brought the varnished pine home.
"Owwww," Joe yelped, clearly knowing that had been a lighter thwap, but still acutely aware of the cherry red hue doubtless blooming beneath his britches. He caught his breath a bit quicker than he had before, and thought he'd rather this finished sooner than later. "FOUR, Ma'am"
"Thank you. Now, young sir, are you ever going to cheat in this class again?"
"No ma'am, I'm not," Joe answered, and prepared for the worst.
"SWAT!" as another three quarter whap set Joe's seat alight.
"Yeowch!" Joe whimpered, thinking to himself that he'd asked for 11 swats. Was he out of his mind? Miss Jones sure as shootin' didn't swing like a girl. She knew just how to handle that paddle, and it was hitting right where he had to sit. This was only the fifth swat, and he'd asked for 11. He wasn't even halfway through this licking. Six more of these, and there was no chance in the world that he could ride home... blanket or no blanket. He almost started to cry out of sheer despair. But instead just decided to "take his medicine like a man" as Pa said, and deal with whatever came. "FIVE, Ma'am", he said, in a clear voice.
"Thank you, Joe," Miss Jones said, in a kind voice. "You may stand up when you're ready."
Joe was so relieved he didn't know what to say. For a moment, he just let himself slump on the desk and dried his eyes on his sleeves, trying not to look like he was crying. He couldn't do a darned thing about the sniffles though, and he could feel the hiccups waiting just behind his tonsils.
Miss Jones put the paddle down on a different student desk, and said, "When you are ready, please put the paddle back on the wall. Although you may want to look at the back of it, and if you wish, sign it."
This piqued Joseph's curiosity, so he stood and picked up the wicked thing, then turned it over to see dozens upon dozens of names, printed and signed in script signature, on the back. One name he noticed... "Miss Abigail Jones", written in a childish scrawling script. He pointed at it with a bit of a smile, and turned to her with a quizzical look.
"Yes, Joe. My Pa fashioned that paddle years and years ago. He was a schoolmaster, too. I've made that sad trip to the barn many many times, learning right from wrong with the help of that thing. When he retired, and I started teaching, he gave it to me. It has helped me educate some of the finest young men and women in this territory, and I'm proud to have my name on there. But it's completely up to you, if you want to inscribe your name or not," she smiled and walked back to her desk. "When you are finished, please hang it up where it belongs," and she sat down to write her note for Ben Cartwright.
"Yes'm," Joe smiled, as he started to sit down at his desk to pull out his pen and nib, to write his name... then bounced back up standing as his seat hit the bench. He was perfectly happy to inscribe his name, but not at all ready to try to sit yet. When he finished signing his name in a little out of the way spot on the back, he hung it back up on the wall.
Miss Jones had finished writing the note, and sealed it in an envelope addressed to "Mr. Ben Cartwright". She gave instructions to Joe as he finished packing up his stuff. "Joseph, I want you to leave this note for your Pa where you know he'll see it, or have Hop Sing give it to him, Monday Morning after you've left for school. I've told him in the note that these are my instructions to you, so you're not sneaking anything and you won't be in trouble for doing as I say. But it's important to me that you be on your way to school by the time he reads it. I am asking him to come join us at the end of the school day, so that together we can tell him what's going on. I do not want him simply to think that you've gotten in trouble, and have him deal with you as he typically would in that case. Is that clear?"
"Yes'm, I understand." Joe nodded.
"Now, between now and Monday afternoon, I want you to think about whether the paddling you just took is sufficient. If you still feel like you need 11 swats, we will finish this Monday afternoon. But I don't mind if you decide these 5 were enough. If I paddle you again, it will be just like this was, so you are given fair warning. All right?" she spoke kindly, but clearly.
Little Joe nodded thoughtfully, "All right. And... thanks... for understanding."
"You're welcome, young man. Now, I saw the extra saddle pad. Think you can ride home OK?" she looked a bit concerned.
"Yes'm, I think so," Joe nodded and chuckled. "I'll sure feel it, right enough, but I took your advice and brought my suede saddle. Between that and the saddlepad I'll put on top, I'll get home all right."
"Very well then, Joe. You took your licks like a man. Now, get one of those reports done this weekend, and I'll see you Monday."
"Yes'm. You have a good weekend, too." Joe waved cheerily, as he headed for his horse and home.
A/N: I enjoy the Bonanza universe, and hope you like some of these short sniglets that bounce past my mental movie screen from time to time. Please feel free to comment and/or review. Thanks for reading, hopefully enjoying! Grace to you, Gentle Reader! - Mort