A Lesson To Remember

You either love him or hate him. That is just the way of some people. You can’t escape having an opinion about them, their personality won’t allow for it. Mr. Edwards is such a person, evoking the best or worst in those around him. There is no middle ground to stand upon and I don’t think he would really have it any other way.

You can probably already tell, I’m not in the hate him camp. Mr. Edwards is my tenth grade chemistry teacher. Now, if I came to school to socialize or if I came unprepared, I might have established a different view. As an honor roll student however, I come to school to learn and my goals are long term success and not short term fun. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for fun and having it, just not in the seven hours I spend in school classrooms five days a week.

Yes, I know I’m in the minority here. The high school environment is primarily a social one. It is the fortune of jocks and cheerleaders to be blessed with movie star like popularity. Everyone wants to know them, everyone wants to be them, everyone wants to be their friend. Well, everyone but me. No, I don’t hate them, I certainly don’t ignore them, how can you? They are the few, the proud, the elite. I however, cannot bring myself to worship them or the ground they walk upon.

I might as well face the truth, I do envy them. I have daydreamed of being on the cheerleading squad, of dating the quarterback or point guard. Reality always comes crashing back to me though and I’ll admit I find it hypocritically unfair that being driven to perform academically is not respected in equality with the drive that inspires performance on the sports field sidelines or the sports field itself. When Mr. Edwards proved so pointedly that he shared my view and toppled Trish O’Brian from her prized perch, all in one day, I was naturally drawn to respect and like him.

The day in question was a Friday. It was also game day and the jocks were running around in their jerseys while the cheerleaders were adorned in their gold and black uniforms. Mr. Edwards’ chemistry class was my first period of the day. I barely squeezed into my desk before the bell rang, an unfortunate side effect of slapping the snooze button on my alarm earlier. Mr. Edwards gave me a warning look as he took attendance which said he had noticed my near tardiness and would be watching me for the rest of the day.

Just as Mr. Edwards was announcing that our lesson for the day would include lab time, Trish waltzes into the classroom. Mr. Edwards turned and looked at her with a very disapproving frown and a question on his lips. Trish seemed oblivious and merely blinked her big, brown eyes with her best doe expression. Undoubtedly a tried and true manner of escaping negative consequences.

“Trish O’Brian. How nice of you to join us this morning.” Mr. Edwards paused as he spoke, almost as though he intended to deliberately humiliate her. He looked down at his attendance book and spoke again. “Seems this is your third tardy this year. See me after class for your detention slip. You can take your seat now, Miss O’Brian.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Trish replied with a shrug of gratuitous attitude as she flung her medium length brown hair over her shoulder and turned her back to Mr. Edwards.

Something about the ambivalence of her response and the way she was chomping on the bubble gum in her mouth made me think of a cow chewing its cud. Trish‘s books hit the desktop directly behind me with me a thud. Her exaggerated sigh as she slid into the plastic chair sent forth the unmistakable aroma of watermelon. I silently cursed her for reminding my empty stomach that I had been running late as well and had missed breakfast in favor of being on time for class.

Mr. Edwards returned to explaining our lab assignment for the day, paper chromatography. Not exactly the most complicated of experiments but it was interesting to think that FBI labs use a similar process to identify the origins of evidence from crime scenes, like identifying the manufacturer of the pen used to leave a ransom note or a serial killers taunting notes to detectives.

Trish and I happen to be lab partners. Most of the time I think of her as a total flake and she acts the part so I don’t feel bad about it, but when it comes down to lab, she’s not quite as useless as her reputation would suggest. The only real problem is she is never quite focused on the task at hand and this occasion was no different. While I set about organizing the materials and preparing my lab notes, Trish set about socializing.

I’m not sure what she was thinking seeing as she had already attracted to much attention from Mr. Edwards for one day. I paid less attention than usual to her ramblings as I felt certain I had also attracted more attention from him that I wanted to. I was having some difficulty getting the paper to stay were I needed it and not having a third arm I looked up to ask Trish for help.

I was somewhat surprised to see her talking with David Reed. He’s a nice guy and all, but he’s not the sort that Trish would normally associate herself with. He’s smart, funny, a little shy, and not at all into sports and then there was the fact that he was well over a foot taller than her and I’d wager his left arm probably weighs about as much as she does.

“Would you um like to uh go with me to the movies this weekend?” David stammered a little unsure of himself.

“Oh, your cute!” Trish responded and giggled a little as she batted her perfect eyelashes at him.

David blushed something fierce and then managed, “You’re not s-so bad yourself.”

“What would you do with me at the movies.” Trish asked standing as close as she could without touching him. Her doe brown eyes looking up at him with playful innocence.

“N-n-nothing”

“Too bad.” She turned around gracefully and wagged her tail as she walk away.

The classroom erupted in a brief stint of laughter curbed by Mr. Edwards as he neared the scene of the crime. “What’s going on here?” He asked David.

“Nothing, just paper chromatography.”

“Trish, why aren’t you wearing your goggles?” Mr. Edward asked suddenly turning his attention away from the humiliated David Reed.

“Oh, Mr. Edwards, we have a game tonight. They would ruin my hair.”

“Goggles on, now.” Mr. Edwards didn’t wait to be obeyed, but turned his back to her and made to continue his journey through the lab stations.

“As if.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face her. “What was that Miss O’Brian?”

“Nothing.”

“I am not deaf Miss O’Brian. It appears another you need a different kind of lesson today.” Mr. Edwards kept getting closer to Trish as he spoke.

Some of adults would have been angry, not Mr. Edwards though. He was calm and collected. When he grabbed Trish’s arm and started escorting her to the front of the classroom there was no undue force. He could not of been more gentle if she had been a sheep and he a shepherd.

When they reached the front, he sat on his stool and motioned for her to get over his lap. The look on Trish’s face right then was priceless, deer in the headlights. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel sorry for her so I decided to just watch. I think the rest of the class made the same choice.

“Over my knee, young lady.”

“No, I didn’t do anything!”

“Over my knee, now!”

“No.”

Mr. Edwards tired of the argument and decided to end it. He stood and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her closer. A moment later he was seated again and Trish was laying bottom up on his lap. Her uniform skirt was flipped up and Mr. Edwards’ large hand began to smack her golden panties. His hands seemed gigantic in comparison to her tiny buttocks and every slap covered her entire bottom.

Trish kicked her legs to no effect and tried desperately to block the blows with her hands, but her tiny frame was no match for our science teacher. In proportion, Trish was almost like a doll. Her head and arms hanging down the left side of Mr. Edwards and her legs and feet on the other side, neither was long enough to reach the ground.

“No.” Trish uttered through tears.

“You can’t.”

“It’s not fair!”

“Stop it!”

“Stop!”

“No more!”

Trish’s disproportioned reaction to a few hand smacks was not doing her reputation any good. I took a moment to glance around the room and I noticed to my surprise that most of fellow students were sporting grins as they watched the drama unfold over Mr. Edwards’ lap. Mr. Edwards must of thought her reaction too much because he paused.

“Well now, maybe I’m spanking the little girl to hard. Let’s just take these down to make sure I don’t hurt her.” I’m not really sure who he was talking to but “these” were clearly her school colored panties that went smoothly down to her knees despite her protesting and kicking.

The evidence of her play acting was then exposed for all to see. He pert butt was barely pink from the spanking thus far. Mr. Edwards returned to spanking and Trish continued her tantrum, suspended over his knee. I must say though, I did start to feel sorry for her at this point. To have one’s bottomed bared and spanked in front of a class of your peers is a level of humiliation I would not wish on any. I think if it were me I’d have died on Mr. Edwards’ lap.

It did not require any great feat of observation to notice the bulges in every boy’s pants. The looks on their faces as they stared openly at one of the most attractive butts in the school was evidence enough of their physical excitement. I blushed just seeing this and how riveted they were to the scene. I knew without doubt they were hoping to get a glimpse of her most private and secret charms. I realized then as well, this scene would be even more unbearable for her than it could ever be for me. Trish was popular and pretty and everyone would know what had happened here within seconds of this class being over. If it were me on the other hand, no one would care and the matter would lay forgotten by the end of the day. Trish would not be so fortunate.

Finally, the spectacle was coming to an end. Mr. Edwards lifted a sobbing Trish off his lap and set her down on the floor in front of him. I and everyone else had a perfect view of her now cherry-red bottom. Even her uniform seemed to be conspiring against her as the back of her skirt remained flipped up in defiance of gravity and her modesty. Mr. Edwards was not done though.

“Are you going to behave in class from now on?”

“Maybe.”

“Honesty at least. Are you going to do as your told?”

“Only when I have to.”

“Do you think you are being funny, young lady?”

“You’re not.”

I think it is safe for me to assume I was not alone in being shocked at Trish’s audacity. I would have thought she would have been contrite or at least trying to appease the man in front of her. Then I realized this was again part of the difference between us. Trish had a reputation to defend and protect, I do not. Trish had now established strong support for telling everyone she had only acted as expected over his knee and that the spanking had never hurt. She was a master of spin control.

She might have known Mr. Edwards would not leave it at that. I would never have risked it. I would have been mortified to stand in the front of the room with my bare, red bottom on display. Trish seemed to be taking it as a challenge though and for his part so was Mr. Edwards.

“Right then. Go and fetch the paddle from the wall there.” Mr. Edwards pointed to the wall on his right where a small round paddle hung from a hook next to the door.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Trish started to pull her panties up.

“Leave those where they are and get the paddle, NOW!” Mr. Edwards voice ended at a level of roaring I’d never heard from him before. It must have shaken Trish because she hobbled to the paddle with all the speed one could muster with their panties tangled around their knees. The scene evoked some audible laughing that was silenced by a cold glare form Mr. Edwards.

“Bend over the desk.” He ordered upon her return to him.

Trish was silent. She allowed Mr. Edwards to remove the paddle from her hand and did her best to lean over the desk as instructed. She wasn’t tall enough to bend over it at her waist so she ended up somewhat hunched over the desk. Mr. Edwards was not happy with the position, probably because her back was higher than her bottom. He picked her up at the waist and moved her forward.

“Grab the edge of the desk and don’t let go until I tell you.”

Mr. Edwards let go of her and Trish’s legs dangled with her feet a few inches from the ground. Her panties slid from her knees down to her ankles. Her reddened bottom was staring at the classroom and everyone was staring right back at it. Mr. Edwards positioned himself to her left and measured his swing with the paddle in his right hand.

An instant later he swung, fast, hard, and low. Trish squealed. Her legs kicked and the boys in the room got their wish. Her sex was revealed to them with all the delicacy of a head on collision. With each swat she kicked and screamed and exposed herself. After ten of these humiliating assaults, Mr. Edwards stopped. He left her hanging off the front of his desk for a moment as he rifled through a drawer.

“You can let go now.” He said.

Trish did so and immediately sent her hands to massage her tenderized cheeks. She was crying openly now and it was clear she was through smarting off for the moment. Mr. Edwards held up an orange tennis ball that he had found.

“For the rest of the period you will stand in the corner, hands on your head, and you can pin this ball to the corner with your nose. If it drops you get swats. Understood?”

Trish didn’t speak a word. She just nodded and let Mr. Edwards guide her to the corner. I couldn’t see the ball when he left her there. She was standing perfectly straight, her elbows were straight out to her sides and each touching a wall. Her hands were neatly folded on top of her and the only sound from her was sniffling. Trish’s round bottom was pulsing as she clenched and unclenched her reddened cheeks in a vain effort to ease the burning.

The ball dropped twice before class ended. The first time Mr. Edwards gave her three more swats right there in the corner. The second time her brought her back to the desk and gave her six very hard ones. After that she was a sobbing wreck and my heart truly went out to her. I can’t imagine how she must have felt on display and beaten as she was.

When the bell rang, Trish turned and ran from the classroom. She hadn’t bothered to even try to pull her panties back up until she was in the hallway. Students were already starting to stop and point as she struggled a few feet away to pull them up and get her skirt down. Mr. Edwards loud voice calling to her probably ensured that anyone who had not noticed, did.

“Miss O’Brian. You forgot your detention slip.” Mr. Edwards called after her.

Trish didn’t turn around. She finished fixing her uniform back in place and increased her pace, ignoring the voice behind her.

“That’s fine. I’ll just call your mother then.”

At the end of the day, Trish and I shared a school bus ride home. Normally, I sit alone somewhere in the middle of the bus and listen wistfully as the more popular students laugh and talk at the back of the bus. Trish’s voice and laugh, both very distinctive, often rules the noise. Not this time, not this ride. Trish sat silent and alone and at the very front of the bus. Despite myself I felt a twinge of sympathy for her on the long and solitary ride.

I live only two doors down the street from Trish. We exited the bus at the same stop and I couldn’t help but notice her slow pace toward he front door. The usual bouncing and bubbling personality was depressed and as I looked up to her house, I could see the clear reason. Her mother stood stiff and straight just outside the door. Her face was harsh and reminded me of my Mom’s own face when I myself was soon to be disciplined. The small, oval-shaped hairbrush gripped tightly in her right palm waved like a nagging finger toward Trish.

“Get in the house, right now young lady. Move it or I’ll blister you right here on the doorstep!”

Trish disappeared into the house and her mother followed immediately, slamming the front door closed behind her. I can only imagine the scene that played out inside and curious as I was I continued my walk home not even pausing to listen for the smacking sounds of wood to flesh.

Entering my own home, I found my Mom sitting in the living room. She had chosen the chair giving her the best view to the front door. The stern look on her face gave me pause. On the coffee table in front of her lay a white sheet of paper. It had clearly been crumpled and torn. The school’s letterhead was easily recognized even upside down to me as it was. The paddle resting on the table next to it left me little doubt as to what the page said and sure as I knew what was happening behind closed doors at the O’Brian house, I knew a similar fate was but moments away for me.