For some boys, a caning did have one positive side to it; it could serve as a chance to prove themselves. Surviving a full six with a veteran house master or the headmaster himself without crying out was considered a feat quite unparalleled in nature and stood as a proud testimony to a boy's resilience and toughness. It required a tremendous measure of stamina and dogged determination to be sure. In some cases, a caning could become a veritable battle of wills between master and boy which would be played out in earnest within the confines of the master's study. The boy had six long harsh strokes to endure and his master had just six chances to prove his point.
Matron Philips had her fair share of such canings. She didn't like them one little bit, but realised that it had to be done and I remember her telling me about one case in particular which, for one reason or other, had always stuck in her mind.
She had explained to me that Parker had joined the school at fifteen. He had been at a state school up to then and viewed his new school with a mixture of quiet bemusement and barely hidden derision. He viewed the other boys as a bunch of effete toffs and their teachers as uppity fools - he thought he was tougher, more street wise and could take it on and win. Matron Philips specifically requested for Parker to be allocated to her dormitory and soon found herself feeling deeply concerned about the boy's attitude, not only towards her, but also towards his masters and fellow pupils.
Things came to a head during Thursday afternoon double French. To cut a long story short, Parker showed disrespect to Miss Glade, his French mistress. He failed to stand when she entered the room at the beginning of the lesson and clearly intimated that learning French was not a priority for him when the mistress asked him why he had done no work at the end of it.
Miss Glade, being somewhat new to the profession, tried the softly softly approach and even went so far as to invite the obstreperous boy to sit down after the lesson in order to speak one to one with him.
"I know that I can't make you like my subject," she explained to him with a high degree of compassion behind her words. "But really, Parker. I am afraid that I am going to have to allocate you a detention if this sort of thing goes on, you know!"
Parker failed to give the expected "Yes, Mam" as was customary for boys who respect a teacher's authority and shrugged his shoulders instead. As a result Miss Glade set the detention as promised and dismissed him curtly, barely disguising her feelings of personal disappointment as she did so.
Once the news reached Matron Philips's ears, she made her way straight to the French mistress's classroom and spoke to the young teacher.
Miss Glade looked up straight away and smiled when the Matron entered the room. They were about the same age, but the Matron naturally assumed the role of an older confidante and pulled herself out a chair and began to speak.
"I have come to see you about one of my boys, Miss Glade," she said.
Quite obviously, Miss Glade knew precisely to which boy she was referring and immediately said his name. "Oh you mean, Parker, Miss Philips," she exclaimed rolling her eyes in feigned despair.
"Precisely," answered the Matron in a clipped tone of voice. "I am highly concerned by the boy's attitude, Miss Glade, and felt that you could do with some advice on how to handle such boys."
Miss Glade tried her best to hide her annoyance at Matron's interference and tried to brush the matter aside.
"It has all been dealt with, Miss Philips," she retorted somewhat loftily, but without quite managing to sound convincing enough.
"Oh really!" said Matron who then stepped forward a pace and smiled sardonically. "Maybe according to some criteria, but most definitely not according the criteria of this school, Miss Glade. Indeed," continued Matron Philips, "We expect high standards in all areas, Miss Glade, and respect for a teacher's authority ranks highest among them."
Miss Glade made no reply; she simply stared back at the Matron and let her continue.
"I am putting you in charge of Parker," she announced quite unexpectedly. "How do you like the sound of that, Miss Glade?"
Miss Glade looked back quizzically and found herself quite unable to reply.
"But first of all, I shall see to it personally that he learns to accept you as his mistress and know exactly where he stands."
Matron Philips suddenly walked hurriedly towards the classroom door and called in a boy who was passing at that time. "Barret!" she called, "I would like you to come in here for a moment, if you please."
The boy, who was in the same year as Parker, immediately did as he was told and stood before both Matron and Miss Glade. Anxiety turned to relief as soon as Matron spoke.
"No need to worry, Barret!" she said with a faint smile, "Miss Glade wants you to fetch the new boy, Parker for her. I should think that you will find him in the dinning hall or there abouts."
Once Barret had departed upon his errand, Matron Philips smiled at Miss Glade and then left the classroom without uttering a word.
Miss Glade felt anxious after Matron had left. A few minutes later, Barret had already returned with a sullen looking Parker in tow. She had absolutely no idea of what to do and gestured for him to take a chair and sit down. She briefly searched through her mind for something to say and then noticed that Barret was still standing in the room, dutifully waiting to be dismissed.
At that very moment, Matron Philips returned. She was holding a small brown suitcase in one hand and a long slender cane in the other. Miss Glade noted Matron's supreme confidence. She also noticed how differently the two boys responded to her presence. Barret immediately stood straighter as she breezed past him and quickly checked that his tie and blazer were in order as soon as he caught sight of her nurse-like uniform. Parker, however, hardly stirred at all, let alone automatically lift himself from the chair as any other boy would have done. Matron Philips noticed this as well, but chose not to react.
She placed the suitcase upon a desk, "Thank you, Barret. You may leave now," she said and then tapped the end of the rattan cane sharply against the top of a desk and briskly announced, "Right, Parker! I most certainly do not hold with boys sitting down when they are seemingly unable to show respect. Take that chair and place it over here, boy."
Parker did as he was told and then looked back at Matron with a look of disdain behind his eyes. He then eyed the cane and drew in his breath. He knew it would hurt, but by the look of it and the fact it was 'only' a women who was about to wield it, he reassured himself that he would come through easily enough.
"Over you go!" she said. "It is indeed high time that we gave you a short, sharp lesson about respect, Parker."
Parker took up his position without uttering a word. Meanwhile, Matron Philips held the tip of her cane between thumb and forefinger and bent it down gradually as she gathered her thoughts. The silence lasted for quite a while as Miss Glade looked on. It reminded her somehow of the silence that precedes a battle. There stood Matron Philips pristinely turned out in her crisply starched nurse-like uniform, slowly flexing her English school cane in and out as she surveyed her adversary who was bent over a bare wooden classroom chair ready to endure at any moment the full force of his Matron's displeasure.
"Lesson One," announced Matron Philips whose voice suddenly broke the silence to everyone's surprise. "Boys always answer their elders by saying 'yes, Mam'. Do you understand me, Parker?"
Miss Glade unconsciously urged the boy to answer. But no response was offered. Parker clenched his eyes firmly shut and clenched the sides of the chair as he drew in his breath. The rattan whistled through the air behind him and swatted cleanly against his backside. A line of fire erupted there and, within seconds, a harsh stinging pain spread across the whole area. He sucked on his cheeks and absorbed the pain, managing to remain perfectly still and silent at the same time.
"I'm terribly sorry," Matron called out, "But I cannot hear you, Parker!"
Still no response.
Matron Philips raised the slender rattan cane high above her head and bore it down upon him again, this time it cracked menacingly against the seat of his regulation grey trousers. Miss Glade jumped at the sound and cringed as she thought of how it must have felt. Parker felt a jolt of pure white pain piercing through his pants and nearly gasped. He felt like moaning just to release the pain, but resisted. He gritted his teeth and swore profusely at the image of Matron Philips that he now held in his mind's eye.
Suddenly, the cane hissed through the air and scourged his backside for a third time. Parker jolted slightly, but made absolutely no sound at all.
Miss Glade walked up to the chair and crouched down to the same level as the boy's ear. "Parker!" she whispered, "Parker! . . . Parker!" she whispered his name a few times more. Her voice was soft and kind and he appreciated the warmth behind it.
"Yes, Miss Glade?" he said in a voice that was barely audible even to himself.
"Look here, Parker!" continued the boy's mistress, encouraged by the response. "Matron just wants you to answer her. Come on now," she said with manufactured joviality in her voice, "I don't think that is so difficult, is it now, Parker?"
Matron flexed her cane into a perfect arc and then stepped back a pace, still bending it back with her left hand. "Now let's see if this works, shall we, Miss Glade?"
Miss Glade watched as Matron leapt forwards and released the end of cane and let it spring back just as its thin whip-like end landed upon Parker's backside. The boy jolted forward and then raised his head and gasped audibly. He sucked hard on his gums as Miss Glade noted a look of apoplexy in his eyes.
"There!" announced Matron Philips, "I think that we may well be getting through to him, if I'm not mistaken, Miss Glade."
Miss Glade stepped back again and watched as, once again, the boy's Matron bent back the cane and, this time, took a full two paces back. She pounced forward like a leopard on its prey and, immediately, Parker lurched forward and emitted a terrible wail that filled the classroom. He saw Matron Philips in his mind's eye and every thought in his head was aimed towards her, begging her to stop and pleading with her just in order to prove that he had now truly learnt his lesson and fully accepted the authority of his new masters and mistresses in his new school.
Once again, Matron Philips stepped two paces back. As she did so, Parker gasped and raised a hand and waived it in submission. His Matron stopped. "Yes, Parker," she said quietly, "Did you want to tell me something?"
"Yes, Mam!" came the reply.
Matron Philips placed the rattan cane down on a desk and smiled. She said nothing as she opened the small brown suitcase she had brought in with her earlier. She laid out a pair of grey shorts, a pair of elasticated sock gaiters with ribbons in the junior school colours along with a matching junior tie.
"Time to get changed!" she announced as Parker stood himself up and looked across to the clothes awaiting him upon the desk. He bulked at first, but seeing his Matron's cane sitting on the next desk made him immediately bite his tongue and answer with a dutiful 'Yes, Mam'.
Parker really couldn't tell which was worse, the incessant throbbing in his backside or his new uniform. He wondered how long he would have to remain in it as he looked down in a mixture of despair and panic at his bare knees and his ribboned gaiters and thought of the incessant ribbing that most definitely awaited him outside from the other boys.
"Now, Miss Glade," Matron Philips announced. "You must keep me informed of how he progresses over the next few weeks and, if he manages to improve his attitude and behave as a senior boy should, you might then think about allowing Parker to wear his normal uniform again." Matron Philips then smiled and left the mistress and boy alone in the room.
"Right, Parker," announced Miss Glade as soon as Matron had gone. "You may go now."
"Thank you, Miss Glade," came the answer. As he walked lambishly through the school corridors in his regulation shorts and junior tie, a group of first year boys walked past him with mirth in their eyes. They all exchanged glances and then laughed openly as soon as they had reached a safe distance. "Matron is making him wear it!" he overheard one of them say. "Serves him right!" replied another.
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