One of my work responsibilities is to act as an examiner for candidates hoping to achieve a particular, respected professional qualification. And whilst I don’t know the questions they’ll receive, I’m allowed to run a revision course for them in the day or days leading up to their test. I’m leading one such event out here in California, before this week’s conference.At the same time, a few of our friends here at The Spanking Writers are preparing to sit exams, of a different nature. Cue a different cut on the same theme, in my jetlagged I’ve-just-been- travelling-for 23.5-hours-non-stop slumbers a few nights ago.
The dream-exam was especially demanding: my preparation course lasted a whole month. Moreover, those attending (carefully hand-picked by their bosses) would have been expected to have to have studied extensively even before their arrival on the first day.
It was a small group – eight young ladies, locked away in a country house for the duration. Classes lasted from breakfast to late afternoon; “Evening study is expected and required.”
Each morning, I would pass a bag containing each of the girl’s names to one of the participants. She’d reach in, take out a rolled-up piece of paper: everyone would crane forward as she read out the name, and the chosen girl would be invited to the front of the class.
I’d pull round a wooden chair and position it in the centre of the room, its high back nearest the audience. The girl concerned would position herself behind the chair, facing away from the group, as I stood before her and posed my first question of that day’s twenty (drawn from past test papers).
She’d answer nervously, hesitantly, understanding the consequences of an incorrect response. Perhaps she’d get the first few right, but eventually a look of panic would cross her face. She’d mutter a guess, a look of panic crossing her face.
“No, young lady. Does anyone else know?” Some bright spark would inevitably call out the correct reply as I picked up the cane. “Bend over.”
She’d know that punishments were always on the bare, that there was no point in protesting. She’d lift her skirt, pull down her knickers, stretch forward into position and brace herself for the stroke that would follow. She’d hope to be brave; a yelp or a sob might inevitably be forthcoming as the rattan cut home. And there she’d stay for the remainder of her test, each wrong answer a further red stripe.
At the start of the course, it would not be unusual for a girl to get ten or more wrong: it would be a good check as to whether they’d revised with due diligence. As the course progressed, a girl might get away with three, four strokes. And by the eve of the exam, one would hope not to have to wield the cane at all. Job done, girls prepared, ready to pass.
See that’s the kind of revison that would actually work!
That’s exactly what I was thinking! Evie, maybe you and I should take a trip to see Abel. In California. Funded by the education system, cos it’s an educational visit…
LOL might help me concentrate too! When I wrote my last essay, Abel was reading the paper in the background, just quietly “supervising” and occasionally glancing over to make sure I wasn’t getting distracted. It worked like a charm – I finished in record time!
You always have the best fantasies. I think this might actually work for me as well …
So Abel… How do you feel about running these revison sessions once Smudge and I are doing Uni finals?
Or once Evie is doing Uni finals and I am doing A Level resits, which is looking increasingly likely at this point.
But then, that’s all the more reason to put Abel’s special revision sessions to good use, right?
I cannot BELIEVE you’re in California, but sadly, not in my city.
So close, just not close enough.
Maybe next time…
I could sure use this for MY uni finals…
This is a good point… Wanna share A-Level resits, Smudge?!!
Yeah! And do we get to blame Abel if we fail?
Hell yeah, it would so be his fault…!
Ponders emailing Evie and Smudge to ask for copies of their respective revision timetables, and requiring daily reports to all the readers of the blog on their progress…
People make timetables?
EVIE! Surely you have a revision timetable?!
No… Am I supposed too?! But what if I feel like doing English on a History day?
ABEL! Calm down, man!
I don’t have a timetable, either. Don’t worry, Evie, they’re just cruel inventions (made up by people like Abel) to make us even more stressed. They’re not that important.
Thank god… Still, as I told my head of sixth form, I may well just give it up and become a stripper.
LOL timetables are meant to make you less stressed, by making you confident that you’ll have done enough revision for every subject.
But to more important matters: shame the head of Evie’s sixth form couldn’t send her straight to the Head to be caned for making such an entirely inappropriate comment.
PS Smudge, Evie: you realise there are folks on here getting stressed about A Levels for the first time in many, many years as we hope yours go well?!
Ooooh, yeah, let’s cane Evie! And as for timetables, they just draw attention to the fact that there’s more revision to be done than there is time to do it in, which totally sucks, and is to be ignored at all costs.
And big squeezy hugs for Abel, for making me go ‘aaawwwww!’ at his last comment. You just earned a whole eternity of no more ‘you’re so old’ type comments.
Oh lets not cane Evie!!
And I’m “awww-ing” too, thank you! Yeah, we might lay off the old thing.. for a while!