Secondary Modern cp

I know some of you are as fascinated by tales of real-life school cp as others are squicked. Reading Seb Coe’s autobiography on the plane the other day, I found some references to life at a Secondary Modern school from the late 60s that might interest those of you in the former camp:

“The teachers… were highly competent. When a teacher came into the classroom, you stood up. When the headmaster came in, you practically genuflected. In short, you messed around at your peril.

Discipline was maintained via the threat of corporal punishment, a sword of Damocles that hung over our adolescent heads by the finest of hairs. It could take the form of instant justice… but more often it was ritualised, when you’d be hauled out in front of the class to be ‘caned’ or ‘slippered’, that is given six strokes on the hand with a bamboo stick or rubber-soled plimsoll kept in the classroom for the purpose.

More serious transgressions resulted in a visit to the headmaster. I was caned by him on several occasions, always justified, I have to say.

One master – or should that be mistress – of the art of corporal punishment was a former nun who taught us religious instruction. She had an unusual delivery, wheeling her arm straight up and over before plunging downwards, an action reminiscent of the great England test bowler Alec Bedser.”

On one occasion, Coe pulled his hand away as she tried to inflict a stroke, so she sent him to the deputy head:

Cyril May was known to be mahogany hard and his weapon of choice was unique, as befitted his status and reputation – a car aerial… As I made my way down to his study, I was overcome with terror. Why hadn’t I let her do her worst and get it over with? Mercifully, when I knocked on his door there was no reply and I spent the next forty minutes keeping my head down, praying no one would wonder what I was doing out of class. I never darkened his door again and so never discovered where the car aerial sat on the scale of pain.”

I’d picked up the book wanting to read about the Olympic bid, and how they delivered the project so wonderfully well. Coe’s surely entered the pantheon of Britain’s true greats. The school anecdotes were therefore something of a surprise! Now, where’s my car aerial…? (Joke!)