Van, BCA, and Mrs. Malone

When Tina moved back to town with Gordy and Dex, I spent some time researching the Bransom Christian Academy before we decided to send Gordy there. I was really impressed by them. Many Christian schools seem to give short shift to education in exchange for doctrine. The BCA, while a little questionable about some of their science education, was great in most every other area. Instead of curtailing other areas for religion, they ran a little longer than public schools. I also really liked that they were a non-denominational school, that didn‘t try to indoctrinate or require any particular beliefs. They were also more liberal about corporal punishment than public schools have been for a while. What I liked best, though, was that the class sizes were kept to under 15 students. As a matter of fact, I liked it so much that I decided to send Van there.

The first time I spanked Van, it had been because he’d been acting up in school. It wasn’t the only time I’d spanked him for that. It also became apparent that Van had a real need for attention. It wasn’t that big a surprise. The boy had lost both parents and was now the youngest of a large family. He really seemed to love it and he fit in well, and his older brothers loved him too; but, when he got to school and was only one of a group of kids, it was really hard on him. He did much better in the smaller classes, especially with a teacher that could spank his little bottom for him, when he needed it.

Not that he didn’t still need to make some adjustments, which explained why I was walking into his first grade classroom at 4pm on a nice, fall afternoon.

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"Hi, Daddy," Van told me, looking up from the map he was coloring. He withered a bit under my glare, but I couldn’t stare him down for too long. I couldn’t let him keep getting into trouble at school, but I couldn’t forget the things I’d done at his age either. When he saw me smile at him, he smiled back - as much in relief as in good cheer from seeing me.

Instead of answering him, I just gave him a quick wave, then turned to the woman sitting at the front of the classroom.

"You must be Mrs. Malone," I said, smiling at her. The woman was probably a bit younger than me. Maybe a little short and just a tad heavy. She had long, dark hair that hung straight. She was a pleasant looking woman, and she had a nice smile, but there was something about the area around her mouth and the lines between her eyes that let you know she wasn’t someone you really wanted to cross.

"And you must be Mr. Wells," she replied, smiling back at me, then frowned a bit and gestured me to a chair by her desk.

She started explaining to me both the good and bad points of Van’s behavior. Most of it was about what I expected. Everybody has little character flaws that they have to work on improving. The only real problem was that his lack of success in correcting his caused him to get his cute, little bottom smacked. The real problem he had was that she’d called me in because she’d spanked him once before. That wasn’t a real problem except for the fact that he’d forgotten to tell me about the whole thing.

The conversation went about as I expected, except that, a few minutes into it, the door opened and a cute little fellow entered. I thought he was a first grader, judging by his size. He was very lean and had a long face with a matching nose and sharp chin, brown hair and blue eyes.

Mrs. Malone looked up when the door opened.

"Donnell James Malone! Are you going to tell me that you missed the bus again?"

The boy looked down at the ground before answering. "Yes, Mama."

"You are so lucky that Mr. Wells is here, else you’d be getting your bottom busted right now. You go wait in the hall while I talk to him."

I could see the boy’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed and his face went pale, even while his cheeks went red. I could see his eyes shift to Van for a minute, showing his obvious embarrassment at the threat. After a second's glance, he turned towards the door and reached for the knob, but then turned back.

"I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean…" he got out before she cut him off.

"I know you are, honey," she said more gently "and I know you don’t mean to, but you do. Now go on."

"Why didn’t you spank him again?" I asked, after the boy had left, returning to our previous conversation. From where I was sitting, I could see Van’s head pop up with worry.

"I intend to, but I prefer to talk with the parents before I give a second spanking; especially when the parents don’t have older children in the school."

"Why’s that?"

"Well, all the parents are required to read the guide book and sign it, but they really don’t read it that well, and…"

"You mean the part about teacher’s being allowed to lower the students pants for spanking?"

Her eyes went wide for a moment. "Yes, that’s exactly what I mean."

"It’s part of the reason that I chose to send him here. You know his history?"

"Yes, and I try to work with him, but we can’t…"

"No, you can’t. It’s not fair to you or the other kids. He’s seeing a grief therapist to work with his problems, but he also has to learn to get along in public."

"Then you don’t have a problem with me doing it?"

"Only that he needs it, not with him getting it."

She nodded her agreement, then turned back to the room.

"Van, come here."

The boy walked to the front of the room, nervousness plain on his face, even though he wouldn’t look at us.

"Van," I told him, "I want you to understand that I’m not mad at you. Okay? I love you."

He looked up at me, relief plain on his face as he assured me he loved me too.

"But," I continued, bringing a frown back to him, "I am disappointed in what Mrs. Malone has been telling me. Did you disrupt her class today, after she told you to settle down?"

"Yes, Daddy," he answered, rather piteously.

"And has she spanked you before, but you didn’t tell me about it?"

He opened his mouth, but just squeaked, so nodded his head instead.

"All right, I think Mrs. Malone has something to say to you."

With my hand on his shoulder, I turned him slightly to face his teacher. She and I’d already discussed the way we wanted to approach it. With any boy, but especially one this age, it’s very important not to overload them with the lecture. She very briefly reviewed the class rules that he’d broken with him and had him tell her why the rule was important. She finished by having him turn back to me.

As Van turned back to me, I realized that his eyes had been fixed on the paddle laying on her desk. It was probably specially made. It looked somewhat like a wooden spoon, but the handle was shaped for a better grip, the spoon part was flat and a bit larger than most wooden spoons. His attention snapped back to me when I started to speak again.

"Van, Mrs. Malone is going to spank you now. You deserve a spanking for not telling me about the last time you got in trouble; but, I’m not going to give you a separate one for it. Instead, after Mrs. Malone finishes spanking you for what you did today, I’m going to add a bit to it for that. Do you understand?"

As I spoke, I reached for his pants. Without me saying anything, he lifted his shirt to give me easy access. I didn’t lecture long, but by the time he was nodding his head yes, his khakis were puddled around his ankles.

I stood and turned the chair to face Mrs. Malone. She lifted the paddle from her desk and directed Van to lay across the seat of the chair I’d just vacated. Van is not one of those chubby little kids, but he’s not all angles and bones, either. Leaning over the seat of the chair like that, his little bottom filed his briefs.

I watched Mrs. Malone as she very carefully lined the paddle up, brought it back and forth in a couple of tests swats, then gave a very firm swing, drawing an immediate yelp from the boy. His little cheek condensed and came back and he gave his bottom a little wiggle.

The paddle came up and down again and his yelp was a little louder. For some reason, it was hard for me to watch him getting spanked. As the paddle came up and down a third time, I looked away from him. It was interesting that I had, because Donnell was peaking in the window. He had a big grin on his face, right up until he saw me watching him. Then his face suddenly vanished.

I watched the window for another moment, then turned back as the next swat land firmly on Van’s little rear. I looked back to see the next swat land. Van was still yelping with each swat, and crying hard by the time the last few landed. It wasn’t an especially long spanking, but each swat was a lot harder than I gave him. The paddle was larger than a regular spoon, but still didn’t entirely cover one of his little cheeks. She moved back and forth between then, working her way down, starting from nearly the waistband of his briefs. The last couple of swats came down just above the leg bands - eight swats in all.

I kept glancing back at the window, but didn't see the boy again. Then I saw Mrs. Malone stand up from the corner of my eye, so I moved to take my turn. Van was crying loud and hard, but not really any worse than when I spanked him. There was something a little different about the sound, but maybe I was just reading a little guilt into it. Maybe I just wanted to be spanking him myself, or maybe he was really a little disappointed that I was allowing someone else to spank him. Either way, I do know that the few swats he’d just taken were harder than I’d ever given him.

I took Mrs. Malone’s place and reached forward to slide the back of Van’s undies below the curve of his bottom, then placed my hand across his little cheeks, feeling the heat already rising from them.

I reached back and gave him one, two, three hard smacks on his left cheek. They weren’t as hard as I could give, but were still harder than he was used to, and they pushed his crying to a new, harder level. Three more smacks on the right nearly had him howling, and I was sure that he’d had enough for this time. It’s amazing how much more effect even a short spanking can have when it’s not what we’re used to getting.

I helped him up from the chair, and he threw his arms around me. I picked him up so he could cry on my shoulder, and held him there for a few moments. Casually, I glanced at the door to make sure we weren’t being observed again.

When Van had settled down a bit, I put him back on his feet, then helped him fix his clothes. Between drumming his feet and my picking him up, his slacks had nearly come off, and we ended up having to take them off to put them back on properly. He wasn’t wanting to hold still and kept trying to rub his rear, which didn’t make things easier. Mrs. Malone was trying not to smile at it, but not succeeding too well. At least she had the good manners to cover her mouth when Van looked towards her.

Once we had his clothes fixed and he’d settled down a bit, the three of us talked a bit more. Actually, this time, we listened while he talked. He explained to us again why he’d been spanked.

"Van, your spanking’s through; but, when we get home, we’re going to have to talk about what you need to do to stay out of trouble. Okay?"

"Yes, Daddy."

We finished the conversation and said good bye to Mrs. Malone. As I led Van to the door, she asked me to send her son in.

Donny had stepped away from the door, but wasn’t too far away. I motioned to him, but spoke to Van.

"Van, you’ll feel better if you go get some water."

Van headed towards the water fountain, and I turned to the boy.

"You’re Donnell?"

"Yeah. Donny."

"Your mom wants to see you inside, Donny, but let’s talk just a second."

"Did you tell my mom I was looking?"

"No. Do you want me to?"

"Please don’t."

"I’ll tell you what, Donny. I won’t tell your mom you were looking; but, I’d better not hear anything about you teasing Van. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. Anyway, I’m gonna get spanked in a minute, too."

"Okay. Then you’d better go on in."

I opened the door and shut it behind the boy, as he started the long walk. About the time Donny walked back into the classroom, Van came back to me. I knelt down and fixed his shirt.

"Did that help a bit?"

"Yeah, but my bottom’s still sore."

"Well, it’s supposed to be. Would you like me to carry you?"

He had to think about it for a minute. After all, he didn’t want any of his friends to see his daddy carrying him. On the other hand, he still loves to be carried. He finally nodded his agreement. I gave his clothes one last twitch, then picked him up. As I did, I turned to look into the classroom.

Mrs. Malone had taken a seat in the chair that Van had just been laying across and Donny was standing in front of her. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I’d say she was obviously lecturing him; based both on the way that she was waving the paddle at him and by the fact that his pants and briefs were around his ankles. He was turned sideways to me, so I couldn’t see much, but it looked like he did have a pretty nice bottom.

I watched a minute more, as his mom sat the paddle down, took him by his hips, and pulled him around to go over her lap. As she lifted the boy into position, I headed down the hall. Before we’d gone more than a few steps, I heard the distinctive sound of wood smacking skin.

"Daddy, is that other boy getting spanked, too?"

"Sounds like it, doesn’t it? For now though, let’s think about ways to keep you from getting another one. Good idea?"

"Really good idea, Daddy."