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Green Paper
by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com
Mary never was in trouble at school. If she couldn't avoid trouble,
she would find a way out of it. Its not that she was never bad,
she just didn't want to be punished for the wrong thing.
Back in fourth grade, Mary had joined the other girls in a protest
march around the playground. When the playground monitor had lined
the girls up to write down their names, Mary got sick and needed
to go to the nurse's office. The protesting girls called Mary
a chicken. She certainly deserved that label, but she didn't deserve
a trip to the principal's office.
The girls had been protesting the dress code, but Mary actually
liked wearing dresses and skirts to school. She had joined the
protest parade because she was a chicken, chicken about going
against the crowd. If she had been punished for being in a protest
march, it would have been a punishment for the wrong thing.
On the first day of school this year, Mary entered her sixth grade
classroom with confidence. She was certain her reputation preceded
her. Sure enough, her name tag was found on a desk located in
GROUP A. That's where all the smartest and best behaved kids sat.
Her new teacher had a reputation also, a reputation for being
strict and for giving spankings. Mary wasn't worried.
Mr. Broombaugh always wore a suit and tie. He had shiny shoes,
neatly cut hair and a tie pin of an American flag. He dressed
like a private school teacher at a fancy suburban school, not
like a teacher forced to work in the trenches of an inner city
public school. Mary had heard rumors that the other teachers didn't
like Mr. Broombaugh. During the teacher's strike the year before,
they had slashed his tires and called him a scab. Mary only knew
she hadn't like spending two weeks in the auditorium while her
more popular teacher picketed outside. Mr. Broombaugh's class
was able to remained in their classroom enjoying a comfortable
routine.
Mary liked Mr. Broombaugh. She liked being in his class. She especially
liked the way the room was arraigned. All the desks were in straight
forward facing rows. The window shades were pulled up evenly.
His handwriting was easy to read, crisp and clear on the blackboard.
The homework was always written in the same squared off area near
the door. There were always three pieces of chalk on the board
ledge, exactly three, spaced perfectly apart.
When they lined up to visit the lavatory or go to lunch he insisted
on two straight lines. He kept them in during recess to practice
walking in line the first week of school. Mary liked when they
walked quietly past the other teachers. Mr. Broombaugh walked
in front, eyes forward, not glancing back, knowing his class was
following quietly. Mary liked this. She felt safe in this class,
she knew the rules and everyone followed them.
But then one day things went wrong, terribly wrong. It was a Wednesday.
Usually, she would open her spelling book, take out her special
General Assignment paper and write each spelling word in a sentence.
Monday he would hand out the special green paper and all the students
wrote General Assignment at the top. Usually Mary would try to
time it so the morning announcements would come over the loud
speaker as she wrote General Ass..... She would smile to herself
about how bad she was being as she stood for the pledge. Monday
was the day to alphabetize the new spelling words. Tuesday was
the day everyone wrote down the definitions of the words. Wednesday
was sentence day. Mary always tried to make her sentences have
a theme. Thursday was the pretest and writing each misspelled
word ten times. Friday was the test. Mary liked this system. But
today, Wednesday, sentence day, her paper was not in her spelling
book.
As she searched her spelling book she heard Mr. Broombaugh say
"Has anyone lost their green General Assignment sheet today?"
Mary's ears turned red. "Did he say that every day?" she thought.
"Had he gone in her desk and snatched her paper? Was this some
sort of test? No, he wouldn't do that! Would he?"
"Very good class" said Mr. Broombaugh. "It is a sign of maturity
that you are organized and neat with your school work." He sat
at his desk and started grading papers.
Mary flipped again through the pages of her book. She looked at
Mr. Broombaugh, he was smiling. "Did he know?" she thought again.
"If I ask for a new paper now, everyone will laugh. I will be
the irresponsible, immature one in the class."
She started banging her books around her desk. She checked her
Math book and her Social Studies book.
"Mary get to work, you are disturbing the others and that is very
rude."
"Yes, Sir" Mary squeaked.
Mary glanced across the aisle at Kimberly. She was smiling and
halfway done her sentences. "Kim, have you seen my General Ass..."
"Mary, what did I JUST tell you about disturbing the others?"
boomed Mr. Broombaugh.
"I'm sorry" said Mary.
"If I hear another noise from that side of the room you can all
thank Mary when we don't have recess." Mr. Broombaugh said as
he raised his eyebrow.
Four or five kids turned and gave Mary a dirty look. While everyone
else returned to writing sentences Mary sat frozen. "Maybe there
will be a fire drill" Mary silently prayed. "Maybe my stomach
hurts and I need to see the nurse" Mary thought. Mary rested her
head on her desk and hoped she would vomit. She even moaned a
few times, but she didn't.
When she lifted her head she realized everyone in front of her
was staring at her. She sat upright and realized Mr. Broombaugh
was behind her.
"Get in the cloakroom, NOW!" came his voice from behind her. "You
have disturbed the class enough young lady."
Mary entered the dim and lonely cloakroom. Usually only very bad
boys were banished to this place. This room stretched along the
back of the classroom and had one opening going in and one opening
going out.
Mary knew from years of observation that time spent in the cloakroom
meant no peaking into the classroom. She didn't want to hear the
usual taunt, "I don't want to see your face, if you had wanted
to be part of this class you would have behaved properly."
Mary stood firmly in the middle and darkest part of the cloakroom.
She studied the hard wood floor with its many layers of varnish.
She contemplated how many children had spent time in this prison
cell. She glanced at the coats and lunch boxes lining the back
wall, certain she would never be daring enough to search their
pockets. Her eyes rose to the high shelf above the coats and focused
on the neat stacks of paper.
Mary's heart thumped in her chest. If she could just get a sheet
of green paper, she could do her spelling at home tonight and
this nightmare would end. She was almost certain by the way Mr.
Broombaugh had been picking on her, that he had snatched her green
paper. The other teachers didn't like him. Maybe he had played
tricks on them also.
With this thought in her mind slowly becoming truth, she stood
on the tips of her feet and reached high above her head. As she
slid out the bottom package of green paper the others slid with
it and despite her best efforts and much silent prayer a loud
crash brought Mr. Broombaugh racing into he cloakroom.
As he reached her, the look on his face was one of great concern.
Mary knew instantly that this man would never play a mean trick
on anyone. As he assessed the situation and saw that Mary was
unhurt, his expression changed to ... well, he looked downright
butt spanking mad.
Only two of the sixth graders had been spanked that year. Both
were GROUP C boys. One, Andrew, had a perpetually messy desk.
The day Mr. Broombaugh found the source of an unpleasant odor,
a half filled carton of rotting milk, was the day Andrew got spanked.
Gill was spanked for stealing one of those neatly placed pieces
of chalk and misspelling Mr. Broombaugh's name on the sidewalk
in a rather memorable sentence.
"Front of the room Mary, hands flat on my desk. You have just
earned twenty five swats."
"Yes," Mary thought "this was it. She would be spanked. Spanked
hard in front of the entire class. Spanked like a GROUP C boy.
Spanked until she cried. Spanked with the paddle."
Mr. Broombaugh took the paddle from the hook on the wall and stood
behind Mary. As she stared blankly out into the faces of the children,
the intensity of the first swing settled on her bottom. Her shocked
look stared out at the equally shocked class. Here was Mary, the
girl who never got in trouble getting her bottom reddened in front
of the entire class.
Mary was aware of the noise most of all. She tried to control
her anguished yelps. Still, she could hear herself crying out
above the loud whacks of the paddle.
Mr. Broombaugh was businesslike and exact in his spanking. He
aimed at each section of her butt pausing only if she squirmed.
He would wait long enough for her to regain her composure, then
continued.
"Only three more Mary," he said rather gently.
Mary clamped down on her bottom lip and endured the final three
in a submissive silence.
As Mary walked to school the next day, it was with a surprisingly
light hearted feeling. Mr. Broombaugh had kept her after school
and allowed her to make up her spelling work. He also had said
to her before she went home that each day in his class was a new
beginning. Mary felt wonderful. Her bottom still felt heavy and
sore but she also felt fresh and new.
Andrew and Gill walked beside her and the three shared their spanking
stories. The boys seemed quite concerned with how she felt and
asked about the redness of her bottom, how badly it had hurt,
and if she had slept with her bottom sticking out of the covers
the previous night.
"These boys really like me" Mary thought. Just then Mary dropped
her books. As Gill and Andrew rushed to help her, Mary saw the
green General Assignment paper flutter out onto the sidewalk.
It had been there all along, hidden somewhere deep inside her
spelling book.
"I knew Mr. Broombaugh would never have snatched it!" she said
out loud. Mary was glad she had been punished for even thinking
such a thing.
© 1999 by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com, not to be reposted or distributed
without permission
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