Spank Bingo: Lewis Watkins

I was writing a problem on the chalkboard but glancing up at the framed black poster that hung just above it. Call it cheating if you will, but there were twenty-something of them in each of my classes and normally just one of me.

"Hold the noise down, guys. Mr. Watkins, step out into the hall, please."

There was a noise like an ‘oh’ coming from twenty-one throats, which was probably accurate, since I’ll bet Lewis Watkins was the only person (besides me) in the class who hadn’t been joining in. I turned around and watched him stand up, looking more resigned than anything, and start towards door.

"Lewis," I added before he got too far, "take Number Two with you."

This time, the class was dead silent. I don’t know if it was respect for a peer who was taking the last walk, or fear of drawing my attention onto themselves.

I waited quietly while Lew walked across the room, obviously not happy about the way things had turned out (and certainly pondering how I’d known what he was doing with my back turned, which was the reason for having a highly reflective poster up there in the first place).

A few moments later, I’d finished the first part of the instructions and left the kids working on the first twenty problems as I stepped into the hall to deal with my problem child.



Lew was standing just outside my door, trying to look as innocent and inconspicuous as an eleven-year-old boy holding a paddle can, which is not very. Holding the paddle was obviously not very comfortable for him. He’d been studying it intently when I came to the door but had soon switched to trying to totally ignore it. He couldn’t just hold it, though; first it was held between both hands, then it was swinging in his left, and then behind his back in the right. I stared at him for a moment, but he didn’t even try to meet my eyes. I let the silence drag on a few long seconds before speaking.

He was really a good kid. Big for his age, but still cute. Lew had medium-dark brown hair that he always wore fairly short. His face was full, but not too round, and his high forehead would have been better served by longer hair. He features were nice and even, making him cute and boyish despite his size, and he had a wonderful smile, with beautiful gray eyes.

Unlike a lot of boys at that time, I never saw Lew wearing anything but jeans, mostly Wrangler or Lee, but he wasn’t too Western. This day, he had a Bat Signal t-shirt tucked in with a short-sleeved yellow and black shirt over it. He looked pretty sharp. That wasn’t his only Batman shirt, either. He’d gotten big into the Caped Crusader since the movie was released, was a regular customer at the comic store, and had bought several shirts from me.

This wasn’t the first time I’d caught Lew in some minor mischief, even though we were barely three weeks into the year. However, I still considered it a pleasure to have him in class. Lew was very energetic. I’d had trouble stopping him from talking until I finally spent the first couple of minutes every Monday morning, letting him lead a brief discussion of the week’s Cowboys game. Then I’d use some stats from the game to lead into our work for the day. He might be a challenge, but he was fun.

"Do you know why I sent you out here?"

He jumped when I spoke but did finally look up at me. After a second’s consideration and a not bad innocent look, he shook his head and answered, "No."

It was a nice attempt, but he couldn’t know that I’d actually seen him doing it. Still, it was obvious to me that he wasn’t a very experienced liar.

"Hold out your hand, Lew."

The paddle rested in his left hand, and he held out his right. I reached forward and dumped several paper wads that had been lying on his desk into it.

"Now do you have an idea?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, grimacing. You saw that?"

"Oh, yeah. I did. Was there anyone else involved?"

"Will I get more swats if I tell you no?"

"Nope," I answered him, shaking my head. "In this situation," I continued," I think three swats are appropriate, whether you were the only one or not."

"There was no one else," he replied, sounding a bit relieved, and not realizing that he’d already told me there was someone else simply by asking.

I was okay with that. I’d spent a lot more time as a schoolboy than as a teacher, and I wasn’t going to ask someone to break the schoolyard code without a lot more provocation than a few paper wads.

"Let’s see. I suppose I should remind you that throwing things in class—or in the halls for that matter—is a violation of school rules. It’s distracting to the other students. It’s rude to your teacher, and it’s potentially dangerous, though I doubt you’re going to put someone’s eyes out with one of those." I rolled my eyes as I said the last part, and he smiled.

"Do you have to say that?" perking up a bit at my irreverence.

"It’s not quite a rule, but I do want you to know why I’m going to paddle you, instead of just saying you broke a rule." I paused for a second, letting my voice drop back into serious mode. "It all sounds kind of silly, but it really is rude and distracting. I know you probably thought you were just playing, but it would be a problem if I let everyone do that, and I’ll bet you knew that was against the rules; didn’t you?"

He shrugged, then nodded. "Yes, sir, I guess I did."

"One last thing. This isn’t required by school rules, but I prefer to err on the side of caution…."

"Huh?" he interrupted.

"I mean I would rather not make a mistake I can help."

"Oh." He paused for a second, digesting that or maybe storing it away. "Okay," he added then, nodding.

I had to shake my head to remember where I was.

"If you think I’m being unfair with you, instead of paddling you right now, I can send a note home to your parents, explaining the situation and either asking their permission, or for them to call me to discuss an alternate punishment. Do you want me to send a note home?"

It didn’t take Lew a second to think about that. "No! Way!" he replied, very firmly and with no doubt. "If you send a note home, Dad might just tell you to go ahead, but he’d probably do it himself." He paused a second and cocked his head to the side. "Heck, he might do it himself and tell you to do it. At least if you do it, I get to keep my jeans on."

"Well, that’s a pretty good reason to take care of it now. On the other hand, you just told me exactly what to do if you ever start giving me any real problems."

Lew’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head. "Don’t even joke about that, Mr. Wells."

"What kind of paddle does your dad use?" I couldn’t resist asking him.

The Number Two paddle had been hanging, forgotten in his hand, but now he lifted it, examining it for a few seconds, before looking back up at me.

"About like this one," he said, "but with holes."

"Ouch!" I exclaimed. "That must really burn on your bare butt."

His head cocked to the side again, and he looked at me quizzically for a second before suddenly smiling and shaking his head. "Oh, no. He don’t make me drop my jockeys. Just my jeans." Then the smile faded and he shuddered just a bit. "Not that it ain’t bad enough like that."

I nodded, sure that he was right, before I spoke again.

"Dad still spanks my little brothers on their bare butts, but he only uses his hand on them," he informed me smugly; then he added, a bit more sadly, "I’m the oldest."

"Okay, well, as much as I enjoy talking to you, we need to get back into class. Let me get a witness," I said, as I turned towards Mrs. Rowe’s room.

"Not a girl, Mr. Wells," the boy objected.

"Mrs. Rowe always witnesses f… you just lucked out. Mr. Nash," I said, raising my voice.

The vice principal was just passing down the other hall, but heard me and stepped back.

"Can you spare a minute?"

"Certainly," he assured me. "Someone in trouble?"

"Yeah. I think math might have been boring him."

I turned back to Lew, planning on giving him instructions, but he’d already untucked his t-shirt, and was removing comb and wallet from his back pockets.

"Okay," I said, nodding at him, "if you’re ready…."

Before I could tell him to get a chair from the classroom, he’d handed me the paddle, turned away from me, and bent over to put his comb and wallet on the ground. Then he rocked a bit, to spread his legs to about shoulder width, and reached around to grab behind his knees, rather than just putting his hands on them.

"I’m ready now," he informed me, in case there’d been any doubt. Of course, he’d forgotten one thing but quickly fixed it by reaching up and flipping the tail of his shirt up to fully expose his rear, along with a bit of his back.

Well, we could skip the chair, I suppose.

I was enchanted to see that he really was wearing Jockeys and wondered if I’d ever have the chance to see him with those jeans down. By all accounts, Lew was great at peewee football, and I know he was looking forward to playing on the school team next year. With his shirt flipped up, I could see a swath of his back, and it wasn’t flat across; the kid had some definite muscle tone, so I didn’t feel the need to hold back.

"You’re getting three swats," I reminded him as I lined them up. Maybe I should have picked the Number Three instead, but it was very early in the year. I took a few seconds to measure out where I wanted the swats to land, then lined up the first one and let it rip.

The swat cracked loudly against his jeans, pulled tightly as they were across his rear, then echoed down the hall. His body jerked just a bit as the swat landed, and his head cocked to the side again. I heard a deep breath being drawn, then a slightly pinched, "One." I guess the boy’s dad really did have him well trained.

I aimed the next swat just a little lower so it was going to overlap about the bottom half of the first swat. I pulled it back and let it crack down again. Lew didn’t jerk as much this time, but his head jerked in, dropping his chin to his chest for a second. He squeezed his little butt tight for a few seconds and bent each leg a bit, then there was a quick pant of exhalation, and he counted the second stroke.

Seeing no reason to wait, as soon as his rear quit flexing, I brought the third swat down. This time, it was aimed for the top half to overlap the bottom of the second swat, and for the bottom half to catch the sit spots. He didn’t yelp, but did jerk, and there was a distinct, ’MMMMMM", followed by a few deep breaths. Both legs bent this time, and his butt was so tight, I doubt you could have slipped a thermometer up there with WD-40 and a sledgehammer.

I waited for a second, and he finally squeezed out, "Three."

I turned and nodded to Mr. Nash, who nodded to me and went back about his business. Then I turned back to Lew. As much as I regretted losing the view of that nice back and the waistband of his briefs (and I don’t know why a former gym coach would find that so exciting), I told him "That’s it, buddy. You can get up."

He carefully started upwards, and reached behind him to rub. Shooting me a rueful look, he shook his head. "I think you’re better at that than Dad."

"Well, I’ve been teaching guys like you for four years now. I’ve had more practice." I paused for a second, then added, "I’m sure he’ll get better."

"I hope not," Lew responded with a slightly amused, slightly nervous look on his face. "He’s already so good I can barely sit afterwards."

"Well, maybe he’ll get enough practice on you to do a lot better job on your little brothers."

"Now that," Lew said with smug anticipation, "would be cool."



Lew gave me very little trouble in my class after that. It occurred to me that his dad was probably a rough and tumble type that couldn’t say the words, but showed his love by spending a lot of time with his kids. I later asked Lew if they went hunting, and he not only assured me they did, but brought me some venison jerky after their first trip that fall.

I would later hear that some of the teachers had trouble with Lew in their classes and I reaized that Lew was one of those guys who had to test the limits, and if you didn’t effectively jerk him up short, he’d go on doing it. He was acting up for a new literature teacher that I liked, so I finally told her, "Next time he does it, bring him to me." He wasn’t quite upset with me, and even admitted it was only fair she witness since he’d been acting up in her class, but he definitely didn’t think it was kosher.

I also finally did get to see Lew, not only drop his pants, but get naked. Once again, one of the coaches was out, and they couldn’t find a male substitute, so they got a lady to handle my math classes, and I spent the day coaching. I managed to act like they were putting upon me terribly, but it was a nice change of pace.



So, 19 September, and I already have the first spot on my bingo card marked.







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