Chapter 2
I noticed a few rapid changes shortly after being caned by Mr. Quackers. Despite trying my best to behave in my classes, it seemed like I was getting in trouble more frequently. I really was trying my best, but my teachers were showing less tolerance. I found that I was being sent for punishment for actions that my teachers had previously ignored. Other students were getting away with passing notes, but if I was, well let me tell you, straight to the library I went.
Thankfully, Mr. Quackers is a fair enough guy, well, for a teacher. He hadn’t caned me again after that first time. Instead my punishments were “more suited to the crime” as he put it. I spent a lot of time dusting off the books and shelves, standing in the corner, or writing. Actually, I felt I learned more from my punishments than my classes. All of my writing punishments were educational in one way or another.
It had been a little over two weeks since I’d been caned and I was getting frustrated with the constant punishments. I was in history class, and Mrs. Wilkens was droning on about some war. The whole lecture was so boring that I fell asleep. I woke when she cracked a yardstick on the desk, “Miss Cole, I’ll not have you sleeping in my class! Go to the library immediately.”
I’ll admit it, I should have complied, but when I’m jarred out of sleep, I’m not the nicest person in the world. I stayed seated in my desk and when Mrs. Wilkens turned around, I muttered, “Kiss my arse you old hag.” I’ve never seen an old woman move so quickly. She whirled around with hatred written across her face.
My arms crossed over my chest defiantly, “I’m not moving. So just go on babbling about whatever it is you were talking about and leave me alone, or better yet, why don’t you retire already? It’s not like anyone is learning a damn thing from your lectures anyway.” I groaned inwardly when she raised the yardstick above her head and braced myself for a blow.
When she lowered her arm and stalked back to the front of the room, I breathed a sigh of relief. My relief was short lived. Mrs. Wilkens picked up the phone on her desk and started dialing, “Yes, Mr. Quackers, Miss Cole is disrupting my class again. Would you kindly come and remove her? Thank you.”
I gulped and slouched further down in my seat. I knew I was in for more than standing in a corner this time. Mr. Quackers arrived within a matter of minutes and as soon as he entered the class and glared at me. I picked up my books and somberly walked over to the door. As we left the room Mrs. Wilkens shot me a triumphant smirk and continued her “attempt” at teaching. (I realize you might disagree, but it’s my story and that’s what I think of it!)
Mr. Quackers said nothing to me as I followed him down the hall to the library. He didn’t need to. My own guilt had already started taking over. Aside from the incident in the library when I’d seen him angry, he always looked sad when I was sent to him. I didn’t understand why.
Once we were in the library, I put my books down and went to “my corner” as he directed me to. As I stood there, I could hear him working, pages turning in books, students asking him for help, and the clicking of a keyboard as he typed. Oh yes, and the always present teacup when he set it back down onto its saucer.
By the time the last bell of the day had rung, I felt as though I was going to fall over. I heard other students leaving the library, and then after silence for about five minutes, he finally called me over. As I stood in front of his desk he handed me a book entitled “World War II and You.” I groaned at the title and asked if he was serious. He nodded, “Dead serious Miss Cole. Sit down and read. I have a meeting to attend, and when I return I want to see that you’ve made an outline of at least the first chapter.”
My personal definition of an outline consists of the chapter title and all of the bolded sections in that chapter. Sometimes I would throw in the occasional term or an important name, but rarely. Mr. Quackers’ definition of one varied quite a bit, a fact I’d learned the week before. He made me redo an outline 4 times until he was satisfied with the content. I took no chances this time, and had barely started on chapter two when he returned.
If it’s possible for someone to age ten years over the course of an hour, then this was the case. Mr. Quackers looked older, tired, his face was drawn and his expression grim. He sat down on the chair next to me and picked up my outline. I glanced over, but continued working on chapter two. He made a few agreeable sounds as he was reading, and I hoped that he was pleased with the outline. I really did not want to have to redo it.
When he placed the papers back down on the table, I stopped writing and looked up. He forced a smile at me, patted my shoulder and got up. I’d opened my mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. Something was going on, and it scared me. I turned in my seat to look at what he was doing.
Mr. Quackers walked unhurriedly to his desk and picked up the box of tissues from it, before returning back to the chair beside me. He placed the tissues in front of me and loosened his tie a bit while clearing his throat. I started to shake in fear and anxiously leaned towards him, needing to know what was going on, “Mr. Quackers, what…”
He interrupted me, “Miss Cole, the meeting I was just at was your expulsion hearing with the board.”
My mouth dropped open and I gasped loudly. I knew I was a troublemaker, but didn’t think I’d caused enough to warrant that! I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and was grateful for the tissues. My world seemed to stop as I snatched a few tissues from the box and buried my face in them. As I cried, I inwardly yelled at myself to stop. Crying in front of someone was something a baby would do, a weak pathetic baby, and I hate showing any signs of weakness.
When the first set of tissues was completely soaked through with tears, I reached for more, and tried my best to wipe the mascara streaks off of my face. I was intentionally avoiding looking at him, but he was obviously still watching me, “Miss Cole, why do you insist upon wearing that rubbish? You’re a beautiful young woman and you do your best to hide who you actually are from the world.”
Now I was looking at him, “Huh?” He flushed crimson and shook his head, “Never mind. We’ll talk about that later. Now, I have to tell you about the meeting.” I nodded and grabbed more tissues as he continued to speak.
“Your teachers believe that it is in the best interests of the school and the other students if you were expelled. They feel that you do not fit in here, and your troublemaking has proven that. Many of them in fact do not believe you have the intellect to even do well, without the attitude problems.”
My head jerked up in surprise and I started to speak, but he held up his hand, “Let me finish and then you can speak.” I sighed, but closed my mouth.
“Now, I’ve seen the sort of work you are able to achieve when you put your mind and efforts into it. I showed the board the reports and work you have done for me. Your intelligence is no longer in question. Rather, your motivations now are. It is clear that you do not want to be here. However, I was the only one to speak on your behalf. I’ll not waste time going into all of the details, but you have three choices.”
He looked at my face carefully before continuing. I’m sure that it was as pale as it felt. I felt sick to my stomach and wondered if I would throw up. I put my head down on the table to stop the room from spinning. Mr. Quackers patted my back sympathetically before continuing, “Your actions alone caused this Miss Cole. Now sit up, act like an adult, and take the consequences for your behavior.”
It took me a moment before I was able to sit up. I still felt sick, but he was right and what’s worse I knew it. Have you ever been guilt tripped? That’s how I felt at that moment, only worse. Ten times worse. I couldn’t imagine why he would stick up for me. I was chewing on my lip in contemplation as he explained my options.
“Your first choice is to leave the school on your own free will. You’ll have no record of expulsion in your file. The second option is to be expelled, record and everything. Your third choice is to remain in school, but I will take over teaching all of your classes. You will obey my every rule or be expelled. Even I do not have infinite patience. Be forewarned though, the third choice may seem like the easiest, but in fact it will be the most difficult one of all.”
He paused to let the choices sink in. I knew that I really did not have a choice. My parents would disown me if I got kicked out of yet another school. I was afraid of all the stipulations to the third choice, but knew I truly had no other options. I licked my dry lips slowly and tried to speak. The sound emitted certainly wasn’t English, in fact it sounded more like a frog croaking. I cleared my throat and tried again, “I-I chose the third choice. I’m frightened, but I know I have no other real options.”
Mr. Quackers smiled warmly at me. Suddenly he didn’t look so old, though the warm smile was still serious. He stood up and pointed to the table where he’d caned me, “Fetch the cane from the shelf, and get into position with the cane resting in front of your fingertips and wait. I have to go inform the board of your decision.”
I sighed deeply to myself as I stood and watched him walk out of the room. It was odd to have someone care about my future. My own parents didn’t actually care. They only cared that I had wasted their money getting kicked out of boarding school after school. I walked over to his desk and picked up the cane from the shelf. It was surprisingly light for something that left such harsh marks.
I didn’t want to risk being out of position when Mr. Quackers returned and quickly set the cane on the table. I walked around to the side, pulled my panties down to my knees and bent over the table. My palms were sweaty and I dried them on the side of my skirt before flipping it up onto my back and stretching my hands out. If I’d thought I would have to wait long, I was mistaken. Footsteps were headed towards the library. It wasn’t just one set though, it sounded as though there were several people. I could hear voices as the footsteps got closer; Mrs. Wilkens’ voice was loudest of all.
