I remember it was in the shape of a whale - kinda like this one only it was painted too. We still laugh about that one. It actually was broken on my brother's ass. (He had put his hockey shin pads over his ass cuz he knew what was coming.

:lol2:

That is hilarious!

... yet true. Can you imagine what would happen to a parent that did that today?

I wouldn't be the kid running to school telling everyone my parents abused me, because in the example (sorta) that I cited my 'rents were in charge, I respected and loved them, and I knew they loved me. That act of discipline was followed by a talk, how he didn't want me to lie to him, that they were looking out for my safety. As a headstrong kid, he got my attention, and I understood.

Sigh, I know...I won the parent lottery. I wish all kids could have great 'rents.

Sounds eerily similar. Somehow my attention span was longer when my ass was still burning.

Well, hopefully, they'd be stopped from doing it again.

Let me be clear (for me, I can't speak for classic): my parents are awesome. Did I get my butt beat once? Yes, for a very good reason. My parents were not abusive. Though, in this day and age, it's looked at differently, and I understand that...I won't even entertain the idea that my parents should have been "stopped" by anyone from anything.

No. But Classic said imagine what would happen to a parent who did that today.

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.

Heh...true. :)

I think there was even an old L'il Rascals where one of them knew he was in trouble when he got home so he stuck about 9 tons of TP in his pants.

Hell, I was brought up on The Beano, Dandy, and Whizzer and Chips: every other strip ended up with someone being caned/slippered/etc.

I was smacked as a child. My Mum's hand damaged me far less than her tongue. I was and still am terrified of her temper. I'd rather she slapped me now than some of the things I fear she will come out with. Fear? Yup. Like in a horror story, the potential is always worse than the occurence. After all, I could always slap her back (AS IF!) but I could never be as mean as her with a real cob on.

Speaking from my weighty experience with 6-7 year olds, I think a lot of the joy of learning is in the teaching. "My" teacher, Miss M, engages the children utterly. If their attention wanders her usual response is to start a dialogue, get their interest back. But this is a very well disciplined class. She sings to them, "Listen, children" and they sing back, "Yes Miss [three syllable name]" Stops all conversation immediately with no shouting.

I can't imagine her hitting any of them. Like Dani says, the past is a foreign country. I grew up in an era of corporal punishment. I was only on the receiving end once and it didn't stop me idolising that teacher. But I was made to stand on my chair for talking a year later, and I cried in front of the whole class. I hated that teacher for weeks afterwards.

Yeah, I never quite knew what to do with my parents, growing up. I was always in trouble. Mostly for small things, I think. But the anger, the hostility, the guilt... were omnipresent. I was only spanked or beaten a handful of times, but I would do almost anything to stay out of the house and away from my mother's constant judgment and anger. It took me years to realize that having the pit of fear in my belly didn't have to be a constant thing. That life *might* be worth living.

So today, when she calls me and pats herself on the back for being such a fabulous mother, I grit my teeth and say "yes mom". And I wait (again) for the day that I am free.

I will never have a child. I am too much like her.

Been there. Also not doing that.