Oh, the poor girl in my dream last night. She went to the local Grammar School, relatively modern in some aspects of its outlook, where pupils are allowed to accompany their parents to the termly parents’ evening. She’d gone with her father. They’d done the rounds together of each of her teachers. Their feedback had been glowing – she was working hard, gaining great grades.
Finally, they sat before her housemaster. “She’s doing extremely well,” he commented. “Obviously there was the blip in her behaviour at the start of term, but that was dealt with – and I think it maybe helped her to focus.”
A glance from father to daughter. “Blip?”
The housemaster: “I meant when she was caned.”
A puzzled look on the parent’s face: “Caned?”
A puzzled look on the master’s face: “With the other girls. For leaving school without permission at lunchtime? You signed the form she took home?”
Puzzled looks from each of them at her. Cue tears.
Father: “I didn’t see any form.”
Housemaster: “So who signed it?”
Daughter, after a long pause: “I did… Daddy, I didn’t want you to know I’d been in trouble.”
Her father responded: “Well, I do know. And you are. We’ll discuss this when we get home.” Her housemaster added: “And I’d like to see you in my office at morning break tomorrow.”
Her father would take off his belt later: he wouldn’t count the heavy strokes, just make sure she learnt a lesson about lying to him. Her housemaster would take out the senior cane the following morning, even though that was usually reserved for sixth-formers: eight strokes, twice the number she’d had last time, just to make sure she learnt a lesson about lying to him. And a very sorry girl, shamed at having let them down, would go back to class determined to show them how good she could be.
What a perfect imaginably horrible scenario
!
The getting caught lying is one of my favorite fantasies, too. Even though the bit about letting her father/housemaster down part doesn’t work so well for me, I had a clear, er, response to this post.
On parent’s night, mother’s who once attended the school, or who merely wish to demonstrate solidarity with their daughters, are encouraged to attend wearing the school’s regulation uniform.
The mom’s who embrace this tradition do so with gusto, and spend hours making sure their uniform is just right. It’s amazing how, when properly attired, such a young lady may blend in so easily with the other girls.
Of course REGULATION is the key, as the young women are expected to be properly dressed, right down to their knickers, and conduct themselves in a manner that is a credit to the school. For the mothers, placing themselves in a situation where they too may be sent to the Headmaster’s office for a good talking to, and perhaps more, is no small part of the thrill.
A story idea for you, perhaps, Abel?