What were you beaten with as a child and by whom?

[SIMMO SAYS]

We had a PE teacher (Why is it so often the PE teacher?) at Durrington High called Mr Roddie who made the losing team lie down in the mud so the winners could walk over them.

Mr Widdup our sportsmaster at Moulsescomb in the early seventies would give you THE SLIPPER (white) at every opportunity.
I was in goal for one class and kicked the ball out of my hand instead of taking it on the 18yard box.
He slippered me on my arse in his room after.
I heard he died of a heart attack not long after I left school.

 

[Weststander]

horrible people who thought it was OK to hit children.. one of them being my father who would give us a whack over the slightest "bit of lip"
my poor mum and my brothers and I lived in a house filled with fear which in later life has given us all a few problems with anxiety etc.
he's now just a sad little man living on his own.

one of my proudest things of being a parent is that I have never and will never hit my own children and have therefore broken that chain.

Well said. I think you are one of many - who haven't carried on with the Ill tempered spontaneus violence and aggression of their parents, whilst bringing up kids who respect through a more cerebral version of parenting.

 

[Wilko]

It is interesting though isn't it how we all had a bit of 'pain' punishment and here we are today all grounded, respectful and all round good citizens off the back of it.

Kids of today have zero respect for adults or anybody for that matter because there is no deterrent and they know this. Give them a verbal bollocking and they just laugh at you and carry on!

I'm not going to go into details, I still try to ignore them / block them out, but suffice it to say I was regularly beaten with a range of implements to the point of severe bruising and drawing blood on one occasion by abusive and in one case, a now-convicted, pervert. Utter cowardly *******s - hopefully most of them are dead and those that aren't live in shame, but somehow I doubt it. I may well have been a little shit, but it was abuse, degrading and did nothing to make me respect them or change my behaviour.

Sorry Joebananas, if you think a little beating here or there is acceptable then read the attached post. Anyone that hits a vulnerable child is an utter coward in my view. I also notice that the 'never did me any 'arm' crew constantly refer to it, the fact that it still plays on your mind says a lot.

 

[Weststander]

Sorry Joebananas, if you think a little beating here or there is acceptable then read the attached post. Anyone that hits a vulnerable child is an utter coward in my view. I also notice that the 'never did me any 'arm' crew constantly refer to it, the fact that it still plays on your mind says a lot.

Agree.

Kids being hit by adults is bullying, and dangerous. Behind closed doors, where does it stop?

My wife and I were both smacked as kids, my older brothers were hit with a belt. As well as our parents using an aggressive manner to 'manage' any unruliness.

The victims never forget that intimidation, as much as they might love their parents forever.

 

[Dorset Seagull]

Did you avoid "Bouncer"? Head teacher. - nasty piece of work his feet left the ground as he caned you and the tip would wrap round and threaten your bollocks. Complete *******.
Henderson was an occasional Sussex II's cricketer which is probably why I reverted to supporting the county of my birth, Kent.
RSM Jack Liddell was handy at aiming the board duster at your forehead while French teacher Sooty Corbett never hit you but perfected a nasty little trick of crucifying you at the front of the class with a piece of chalk balanced on each hand that you dare not let drop. I gave up and just walked straight to Tabby's office for a caning rather than amuse the sadistic little *******.

At home my old man used a belt and fists regularly. At least it taught me how not to bring up my kids.

Different times. You can moan about lack of discipline now all you like. The way we had it was just plain wrong.

Henderson also made the local papers for an indiscretion at a local establishment which ,shall we say, left him flushed. Jack Liddell was a legend of epic proportions who struck fear and respect in equal measure. Left the classroom once so I decided to give everyone the benefit of my best Mike Yarwoodesk impression not realising he was outside poking his head through the window!

 

[whitelion]

Henderson also made the local papers for an indiscretion at a local establishment which ,shall we say, left him flushed. Jack Liddell was a legend of epic proportions who struck fear and respect in equal measure. Left the classroom once so I decided to give everyone the benefit of my best Mike Yarwoodesk impression not realising he was outside poking his head through the window!

Jack Liddell was the reason I passed my Maths 'O' level - he was a proper character. I went to a reunion - must have been 1986 and shared a few beers with him - he was a genuinely nice man even if his methods and exterior were quite harsh.

 

[Kubes]

In 1964 I went to a prep school for a Catholic grammar school there was a Mr Giles who beat me with a Tuf shoe - I was lucky in that I didn't fall foul of him earlier. I saw a boy in my class called Page beaten by him with a horse whip a month earlier. We were 7 or 8 years old. The headmaster at the time was a pervert priest called Fr Harrison who beat boys with a strap which he gloatingly called Stanley. I suspect parents complained because neither teacher reappeared next school year. I would happily do time for any damage I could inflict on these fine upstanding Catholics. And I have never ever bought a Tuf shoe!

 

[Harry Wilson's tackle]

Not sure this is a great thread. When I read people saying they 'deserved it' (being beaten as a kid) I think about others, like women in abusive relationships, who convince themselves they 'deserve' it (a slap or worse). Sorry but it is child abuse and it can't ever be condoned.

I was slapped hard twice in the face by a French teacher (Mrs Levy) at St Nicks when I was about 8. A few days later she did the same to another kid - this time ten slaps. He walked straight out of the scool and home. His mum came back with him and a short while later the teacher was escorted off the premises never to return.

At home I go the 'come here or I'll hit you' bollocks, and got hit whether I came there or not. Then when I was 15 I'd had enough. Lamped the old man. It happened again a few rimes and ince my mum got the police round. Nothing happened, If it were now he'd have been banged up.

It is tmpting to remember the good times, and all the kindly acts the old man did. But I feel its more honest to face facts. He was a thoughtless chauvenistic ****.

 

[Weststander]

Not sure this is a great thread. When I read people saying they 'deserved it' (being beaten as a kid) I think about others, like women in abusive relationships, who convince themselves they 'deserve' it (a slap or worse). Sorry but it is child abuse and it can't ever be condoned.

I was slapped hard twice in the face by a French teacher (Mrs Levy) at St Nicks when I was about 8. A few days later she did the same to another kid - this time ten slaps. He walked straight out of the scool and home. His mum came back with him and a short while later the teacher was escorted off the premises never to return.

At home I go the 'come here or I'll hit you' bollocks, and got hit whether I came there or not. Then when I was 15 I'd had enough. Lamped the old man. It happened again a few rimes and ince my mum got the police round. Nothing happened, If it were now he'd have been banged up.

It is tmpting to remember the good times, and all the kindly acts the old man did. But I feel its more honest to face facts. He was a thoughtless chauvenistic ****.

Good to be honest with yourself. It sounds like you knew it was wrong, even as a kid, and ended up being a kinder person (possibly) to the perpetrator?

And a lesson to us all that "the good old days" was flawed in many ways. Much safer now, overall, for the vulnerable.

 

[marlowe]

Never had the cane at school although it was in use at the time.
At home experienced a variety of physical punishments from my dad some adapted to fit the crime. When I trod on the flower bed to retrieve my ball my dad gave me what he considered a suitably appropriate punishment and stamped on me as I lay on the ground in the side alley. One easter holiday was spent being taught the times tables by him in his own inimitable way. I had to recite each table with my hand held out flat while he sat opposite me holding a ruler. Everytime I got one wrong or hesitated for too long I got a whack. This was a daily regime for the whole of that holiday but when I returned to school I knew each table by heart up to 12x12. After a conker collecting session with a friend we sat at the kitchen table divvying them out one by one. When I jokingly tried to take two at a time my friend made the mistake of light heartedly announcing it to my dad. My dad's response was to launch into me punching and kicking me because I had broken one of his three cardinal rules which were "no lying, no cheating and no stealing". This was done in front of my friend who stood there shocked and stunned and feeling guilty that he was somehow responsible for what was happening to me. My dad also used to enjoy luring me into telling a lie so he could administer one of his punishments for telling lies which usually involved punches, kicks, jabbing me in the ribs with sticks amongst other things. However he didn't live by his own cardinal rules as he often lied and cheated on my mum and then psychologically and emotionally abused her after she finally found the courage to throw him out after putting up for months of him living with us one week and his other woman the next on an alternating basis. He couldnt stand the fact that my mum had finally stood up to him after years of timidly putting up with his domineering behaviour. His response was to start a campaign of stalking her which included following her around her local supermarket, waiting till she was at the till and loudly asking if she was still on probation for shop lifting in front of everyone in the queue. By this time I was in my late teens so when my mum came home in tears i grabbed a lump of wood and i was going to go looking for him but i was held back by the husband of my sisters friend who happened to be visiting at the time and who also happened to be a policeman so I didn't think it was a good idea to resist too much. I know i would have done some serious damage to my dad if i had gone and found him as I was really wound up. I contented myself by phoning up my dad's work where he was the manager and I left a message with his secretary and asked her to tell him to stop following my mum around supermarkets. When the secretary asked who was phoning i delighted in saying it was his son. I did this for the embarassment factor it would cause him rather than as a warning. This was the first time i had directly retaliated to his behaviour and my actions obviously had the desired effect because when he found out about the call i received a message that i would have to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. After years of having lived in fear of him this threat meant nothing to me and i actually relished the idea of him coming after me because i knew i was prepared to do more damage to him than he could do to me even though he was still physically stronger than me. By then i knew his limits but he didn't know mine. He never did come after me which i found a tad disappointing because I would have liked to suprise him. For all the beatings I received from him as a child i have never borne him any grudges but I will never forgive the psychological abuse he gave to my mum. After my mum died i received a message that he would like a reconciliation with me. He had no chance, by then it was too late as I felt I would have been betraying my mum although my mum would never have objected if i'd wanted to see him. If he had tried to make amends with my mum when she was still alive and apologised it might have been different but he never did. I haven't seen him for over 35 years. Probably never will.

 

[Harry Wilson's tackle]

Good to be honest with yourself. It sounds like you knew it was wrong, even as a kid, and ended up being a kinder person (possibly) to the perpetrator?

And a lesson to us all that "the good old days" was flawed in many ways. Much safer now, overall, for the vulnerable.

Cheers. I agree. I would like to think my son would have a kindlier word to say about me as a result.

 

[severnside gull]

As an adjunct I remember running in a cross country at Lancing College. They lost and afterwards in the showers took to flicking wet towels at their opponents' genitals.

They were so surprised when we turned round and punched them in the faces. Apparently it wasn't the sporting response doncha know

 

[Chicken Run]

Never had the cane at school although it was in use at the time.
At home experienced a variety of physical punishments from my dad some adapted to fit the crime. When I trod on the flower bed to retrieve my ball my dad gave me what he considered a suitably appropriate punishment and stamped on me as I lay on the ground in the side alley. One easter holiday was spent being taught the times tables by him in his own inimitable way. I had to recite each table with my hand held out flat while he sat opposite me holding a ruler. Everytime I got one wrong or hesitated for too long I got a whack. This was a daily regime for the whole of that holiday but when I returned to school I knew each table by heart up to 12x12. After a conker collecting session with a friend we sat at the kitchen table divvying them out one by one. When I jokingly tried to take two at a time my friend made the mistake of light heartedly announcing it to my dad. My dad's response was to launch into me punching and kicking me because I had broken one of his three cardinal rules which were "no lying, no cheating and no stealing". This was done in front of my friend who stood there shocked and stunned and feeling guilty that he was somehow responsible for what was happening to me. My dad also used to enjoy luring me into telling a lie so he could administer one of his punishments for telling lies which usually involved punches, kicks, jabbing me in the ribs with sticks amongst other things. However he didn't live by his own cardinal rules as he often lied and cheated on my mum and then psychologically and emotionally abused her after she finally found the courage to throw him out after putting up for months of him living with us one week and his other woman the next on an alternating basis. He couldnt stand the fact that my mum had finally stood up to him after years of timidly putting up with his domineering behaviour. His response was to start a campaign of stalking her which included following her around her local supermarket, waiting till she was at the till and loudly asking if she was still on probation for shop lifting in front of everyone in the queue. By this time I was in my late teens so when my mum came home in tears i grabbed a lump of wood and i was going to go looking for him but i was held back by the husband of my sisters friend who happened to be visiting at the time and who also happened to be a policeman so I didn't think it was a good idea to resist too much. I know i would have done some serious damage to my dad if i had gone and found him as I was really wound up. I contented myself by phoning up my dad's work where he was the manager and I left a message with his secretary and asked her to tell him to stop following my mum around supermarkets. When the secretary asked who was phoning i delighted in saying it was his son. I did this for the embarassment factor it would cause him rather than as a warning. This was the first time i had directly retaliated to his behaviour and my actions obviously had the desired effect because when he found out about the call i received a message that i would have to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. After years of having lived in fear of him this threat meant nothing to me and i actually relished the idea of him coming after me because i knew i was prepared to do more damage to him than he could do to me even though he was still physically stronger than me. By then i knew his limits but he didn't know mine. He never did come after me which i found a tad disappointing because I would have liked to suprise him. For all the beatings I received from him as a child i have never borne him any grudges but I will never forgive the psychological abuse he gave to my mum. After my mum died i received a message that he would like a reconciliation with me. He had no chance, by then it was too late as I felt I would have been betraying my mum although my mum would never have objected if i'd wanted to see him. If he had tried to make amends with my mum when she was still alive and apologised it might have been different but he never did. I haven't seen him for over 35 years. Probably never will.

This is a truly horrific account of your childhood and I can only hope the demons inside have slowly dissolved over the years. I wish u well.

 

[marlowe]

Not sure this is a great thread...........

Nor was I, and I had my doubts about starting it. I was just curious to learn how "normal" my childhood experiences were. I think it may be the case that many of those who suffered the worst experiences have not wanted to contribute. The thread title gave sufficient information for them to choose whether to open it or avoid it.

 

[Insel affe]

I'm surprised all that was allowed by the mid 1980's. I wonder if that little lot was illegal by then?

I'm a product of the 80-85 secondary school system and apart from maybe the duct tape incident I would say the rest is pretty much bang on.

 

[Insel affe]

Never had the cane at school although it was in use at the time.
At home experienced a variety of physical punishments from my dad some adapted to fit the crime. When I trod on the flower bed to retrieve my ball my dad gave me what he considered a suitably appropriate punishment and stamped on me as I lay on the ground in the side alley. One easter holiday was spent being taught the times tables by him in his own inimitable way. I had to recite each table with my hand held out flat while he sat opposite me holding a ruler. Everytime I got one wrong or hesitated for too long I got a whack. This was a daily regime for the whole of that holiday but when I returned to school I knew each table by heart up to 12x12. After a conker collecting session with a friend we sat at the kitchen table divvying them out one by one. When I jokingly tried to take two at a time my friend made the mistake of light heartedly announcing it to my dad. My dad's response was to launch into me punching and kicking me because I had broken one of his three cardinal rules which were "no lying, no cheating and no stealing". This was done in front of my friend who stood there shocked and stunned and feeling guilty that he was somehow responsible for what was happening to me. My dad also used to enjoy luring me into telling a lie so he could administer one of his punishments for telling lies which usually involved punches, kicks, jabbing me in the ribs with sticks amongst other things. However he didn't live by his own cardinal rules as he often lied and cheated on my mum and then psychologically and emotionally abused her after she finally found the courage to throw him out after putting up for months of him living with us one week and his other woman the next on an alternating basis. He couldnt stand the fact that my mum had finally stood up to him after years of timidly putting up with his domineering behaviour. His response was to start a campaign of stalking her which included following her around her local supermarket, waiting till she was at the till and loudly asking if she was still on probation for shop lifting in front of everyone in the queue. By this time I was in my late teens so when my mum came home in tears i grabbed a lump of wood and i was going to go looking for him but i was held back by the husband of my sisters friend who happened to be visiting at the time and who also happened to be a policeman so I didn't think it was a good idea to resist too much. I know i would have done some serious damage to my dad if i had gone and found him as I was really wound up. I contented myself by phoning up my dad's work where he was the manager and I left a message with his secretary and asked her to tell him to stop following my mum around supermarkets. When the secretary asked who was phoning i delighted in saying it was his son. I did this for the embarassment factor it would cause him rather than as a warning. This was the first time i had directly retaliated to his behaviour and my actions obviously had the desired effect because when he found out about the call i received a message that i would have to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. After years of having lived in fear of him this threat meant nothing to me and i actually relished the idea of him coming after me because i knew i was prepared to do more damage to him than he could do to me even though he was still physically stronger than me. By then i knew his limits but he didn't know mine. He never did come after me which i found a tad disappointing because I would have liked to suprise him. For all the beatings I received from him as a child i have never borne him any grudges but I will never forgive the psychological abuse he gave to my mum. After my mum died i received a message that he would like a reconciliation with me. He had no chance, by then it was too late as I felt I would have been betraying my mum although my mum would never have objected if i'd wanted to see him. If he had tried to make amends with my mum when she was still alive and apologised it might have been different but he never did. I haven't seen him for over 35 years. Probably never will.

Life can be horrible at times, this has obviously affected you and as you indicate proves violence towards young minds never results in anything positive. Yes sometimes memories hurt more than pain at the time, but the old saying revenge is best served cold is actually true, after visiting my dad last weekend who had just had a stroke, I travelled up to Cumbria and sat next to him and looked at him, held his hand and could see the why in his eyes... The why is I'm better, I'm stronger, I'm confident, I'm forgiving....

 

[Hampden Park]

hit on the head with a golf club (3 wood?) by my teacher 'Bodge Malin' metal work, caned, slippered (pump), hit on the head in technical drawing with a 't square', Ronny Ladbrooke (Economics teacher) used to launch the blackboard duster at us so we used the desk lid as a deflector. i could go on, loved school ;-)

 

[sussex_guy2k2]

Never had the cane at school although it was in use at the time.
At home experienced a variety of physical punishments from my dad some adapted to fit the crime. When I trod on the flower bed to retrieve my ball my dad gave me what he considered a suitably appropriate punishment and stamped on me as I lay on the ground in the side alley. One easter holiday was spent being taught the times tables by him in his own inimitable way. I had to recite each table with my hand held out flat while he sat opposite me holding a ruler. Everytime I got one wrong or hesitated for too long I got a whack. This was a daily regime for the whole of that holiday but when I returned to school I knew each table by heart up to 12x12. After a conker collecting session with a friend we sat at the kitchen table divvying them out one by one. When I jokingly tried to take two at a time my friend made the mistake of light heartedly announcing it to my dad. My dad's response was to launch into me punching and kicking me because I had broken one of his three cardinal rules which were "no lying, no cheating and no stealing". This was done in front of my friend who stood there shocked and stunned and feeling guilty that he was somehow responsible for what was happening to me. My dad also used to enjoy luring me into telling a lie so he could administer one of his punishments for telling lies which usually involved punches, kicks, jabbing me in the ribs with sticks amongst other things. However he didn't live by his own cardinal rules as he often lied and cheated on my mum and then psychologically and emotionally abused her after she finally found the courage to throw him out after putting up for months of him living with us one week and his other woman the next on an alternating basis. He couldnt stand the fact that my mum had finally stood up to him after years of timidly putting up with his domineering behaviour. His response was to start a campaign of stalking her which included following her around her local supermarket, waiting till she was at the till and loudly asking if she was still on probation for shop lifting in front of everyone in the queue. By this time I was in my late teens so when my mum came home in tears i grabbed a lump of wood and i was going to go looking for him but i was held back by the husband of my sisters friend who happened to be visiting at the time and who also happened to be a policeman so I didn't think it was a good idea to resist too much. I know i would have done some serious damage to my dad if i had gone and found him as I was really wound up. I contented myself by phoning up my dad's work where he was the manager and I left a message with his secretary and asked her to tell him to stop following my mum around supermarkets. When the secretary asked who was phoning i delighted in saying it was his son. I did this for the embarassment factor it would cause him rather than as a warning. This was the first time i had directly retaliated to his behaviour and my actions obviously had the desired effect because when he found out about the call i received a message that i would have to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. After years of having lived in fear of him this threat meant nothing to me and i actually relished the idea of him coming after me because i knew i was prepared to do more damage to him than he could do to me even though he was still physically stronger than me. By then i knew his limits but he didn't know mine. He never did come after me which i found a tad disappointing because I would have liked to suprise him. For all the beatings I received from him as a child i have never borne him any grudges but I will never forgive the psychological abuse he gave to my mum. After my mum died i received a message that he would like a reconciliation with me. He had no chance, by then it was too late as I felt I would have been betraying my mum although my mum would never have objected if i'd wanted to see him. If he had tried to make amends with my mum when she was still alive and apologised it might have been different but he never did. I haven't seen him for over 35 years. Probably never will.

That's some pretty horrific stuff. The scary thing is that this is still the norm for some children - it all depends on how lucky they are with the parents they're born to. Like some of the other posters have said, I hope you've come out the other side positively.

For my two cents, just the odd whack around the bottom when I'd really crossed a line.

This is a real ethical debate though. On the one hand, children need protecting. On the other, children need to learn discipline and respect, and it's clear many don't understand either of these principles now. There has to be a safe middle ground somewhere?

 

[Harry Wilson's tackle]

Nor was I, and I had my doubts about starting it. I was just curious to learn how "normal" my childhood experiences were. I think it may be the case that many of those who suffered the worst experiences have not wanted to contribute. The thread title gave sufficient information for them to choose whether to open it or avoid it.

Not criticisng you for starting it . . . . especially after reading your longer post. Was just musing aloud. I developed an almost pathological hatred of bullying and oppression which extended to fairly trivial things one might best describe as 'being put upon'. Last year I met up with someone, now in his 80s, who was involved with my PhD supervision. He gave me a long look and said 'you were an angry young man' (35 years ago when I was in my early and mid 20s). That came as a shock. Thinking about it (a lot), yes I was very difficult.....I am generally conciliatory these days, and have a wide range of acquaintances who span the social and political spectrum. But when I was younger I had a 'person filter' set at a very high threshold, and anyone who had views or behaviours I didn't take kindly to were pretty soon 'dead to me' as they say. Probably a survival reflex. My experiences were trivial in the great scheme of things, and getting angry at injustice may feel like an explosion within (when you're age 11 to 15) but this is nothing compared with other stuff which, as you say, was suffered by people who will almost certainly not want to read or post on this thread. I hope all those who suffered back before society thought anything much of these things can and have found some way to survive and enjoy this wonderful life, although I fully appreciate plenty haven't. All the best.

 

[BLOCK F]

I was a boarder at public school in the early '60's.
We would be beaten by our housemaster for various misdemeanours, often quite frivolous. Usually in his study, bending over the chair and being whacked by a slipper. You had to change into your games kit before a beating.......I don't know whether this used to turn him on or made it easier for him to hit a bit of bare leg. He also used the cane for what were deemed more serious offences and once again you had to change into games kit. There was one particular lad who was always being beaten and I swear the master picked on him (make what you will out of that!). He used to come out with blood coming from lashes on the upper thigh and buttocks!
Additionally, in those days , the head prefect of your house ( probably aged 17!!) could also beat younger boys. If you were due what was called a 'prefect's beating, it would always happen after lights out in the dormitory. You were summonsed from your bed and taken to a bathroom, told to bend over the bath and duly whacked with a slipper, whilst being watched by a further 3 or 4 house prefects. You weren't allowed to wear a dressing gown, only pyjamas.
Quite extraordinary what went on in those days, behind the walls of respectability. It was totally wrong even in those days.
Don't let people say public schooltypes are big spoilt softies, we certainly weren't in my day and always reckoned if we ended up in prison, we were ideally equipped to cope!