Secondary school, despite my mum's assurances that 'it would be alright' and that 'the teachers took care of everyone, was a miserable time for me.
It was 1957 and I did not feel comfortable with the move from my primary school which seemed safe and nurturing, to this place...a huge - soot blackened building in a
part of Edinburgh deemed to be socially deprived. The school reminded me of a prison, with pupils as inmates and staff whose sole duty seemed to be the daily containment and control of us.
One teacher who took the English class, was an absolute tyrant who terrified everyone and appeared to delight in giving miscreants the 'belt'. (This was a leather strap known as a 'tawse' and commonly used as a punishment and deterrent in Scottish schools.)
Teachers had their favourite belts, some with two thongs...others with three, and it was a common sight for the leather monstrosity to be displayed on the teacher's desk in full view of the class as a warning. Fortunately for me, English was a fairly safe subject and I managed to escape her wrath. However - I DID receive the belt once and really through no fault of mine!
My usual bus was late and to my dismay, hurtled past my stop...the 'ding-ding-ding' bell being sounded by the conductress to instruct the driver that the bus was full and to 'drive right on'. I sat on the next bus, now almost twenty minutes late and felt sick with anxiety, praying that I might still reach the school before the last lines {of pupils) were marched in.
No such luck! The playground was ominously empty apart from a few stragglers 'captured' by the duty teacher and now corralled at the doorway.
My twelve-year-old legs turned to jelly as I realised I had been spotted, the teacher without speaking...pointing his finger in my direction and indicating that I should join the 'prisoners'.
He marched us to an empty classroom where, one by one, we were lined up to be punished. I was fourth in the 'queue' and waited, watching fearfully as he wielded the belt and hoping by some miracle that I might be spared. The boy behind me must have realised I was new to this, and with an authority obviously based on previous knowledge whispered...
'Now mind, dinnae cry oot when he belts ye. He's a bastard and enjoys hearin' us yell.' Ah did it once an' he jist laughed and gied me a double-hander.'
This did nothing to assuage my mounting terror as I watched. There was a specific technique to receiving the belt, requiring the victim to hold both hands out , palms upward and one hand supporting the other. The belt was not designed to draw blood but rather...to hurt, and one girl who was apparently a habitual latecomer, received a 'double-hander' which meant first one hand was belted, then the supporting hand was placed uppermost to receive the same treatment.
The pain must have been awful, yet she did not cry...or even flinch, and I had to admire her pluck. In fact, no-one cried, each one submitting themselves to the punishment then re-joining our little line of victims. It seemed to be a sign of weakness to show the teacher that he had actually hurt them, so I decided that I would have to follow suit. Any excuses or even attempts to offer legitimate reasons for being late were ignored by this teacher as, one by one, he positioned the hands and gasping with the exertion, wielded the belt.
The shock of the leather strap striking my outstretched palm, the pain...burning sensation and florid red mark on my hand...stayed with me for most of that day, the humiliation however - was much worse. Having to go into my class late, all eyes on me and my feeling that I had 'offender' stamped across my forehead, haunted me all day.
I chose not to tell my parents. I knew that they would be upset for me and also angry with the teacher. My mam...always so protective of her children...would have charged up to the school and demanded a full enquiry plus his resignation.
Another reason for not telling them was my feeling of shame. The belt had not only been painful but felt degrading. The mark on my hand was nothing compared to my bruised psyche. Corporal punishment was unheard of in my family, and I had never been smacked or even spoken harshly to by my parents.
I could not fathom why anyone legally had the right to whip a child with a leather strap. Being given the belt was tantamount to an assault and I found it difficult to think of any acceptable reason for an adult...especially a teacher...to believe such a barbaric punishment was justified.
I curled up in bed that night, almost in foetal position, the event playing over and over in my mind. Mam's words to me when I first enrolled at that school...assuring me that 'it would be alright...the teachers took care of everyone.' The streetwise boy in the queue advising me 'not to cry when belted', and the young girl who received the double punishment, appearing to accept this as an inevitable part of her life.
I pulled the quilt over my head, the feeling of helplessness and misery of the day overwhelming me...and I silently cried.
The use of the tawse continued in Scottish schools as an approved 'deterrent' and at the discretion of teachers until 1987 when it was finally abolished.