There Is A Time To Read, And a time to pay attention

So when I was a kid I loved to read. More than anything else, I adored books. My mum was an english teacher, so I learned to read pretty fast, and learned to appreciate it. Problem was, I appreciated it too much. Yes, I was the odd child who would rather read a book than play hopscotch. Sometimes if I was in the middle of a really good book, I wouldn't do my homework. My poor mother was a single mum trying to get her child to put the book down and do my homework. She said she was very confused, she was after all, and english teacher, and she thought it was terrible to tell her own child not to read. I had to keep my grades up though, and she had no idea how to punish me. If she sent me to my room, I would just read a book, if she took them away, I would go to the library. Mmmm, predicament.
Overall I was pretty polite, since I didn't want to risk my mum being disappointed. She was a sweet woman who cried at the sight of rude children. She was catholic and believed that children should respect their parents. She would give me this disappointed look that just melted my heart and humbled me to the point where I shrunk into a ball and swore to myself I would do better for her. She may have been catholic, but she didn't believe in spare the rod and spoil the child. She never raised a hand to me, but when I was being a little brat, how was she supposed to deal with me?
The answer was when her boyfriend ( A science teacher working at the same middle school) became her husband. He was pretty cool. I was seven at the time, and both he and my mother were pretty young. He was thirty two at the time, and she was twenty nine. He had never had children, and she didn't know much about parenting, having had me the year she graduated college. She didn't grow up in the best house when she was little, so she didn't exactly have anything to model after. She promised herself and me that she would never do what her parents did though. Mr. Bartlett was his name, and he had grown up in a pretty good childhood. His parents (My grandparents after he married my mum) were loving and kind, but wouldn't take any crap from a rude little bugger.
The first spanking I ever got was when I reached sixth grade, and he happened to be my science teacher. He had been my dad for a while now, and we were pretty close, but I had never had to be punished further than grounding the while he had been with my mum. He caught me reading a book in class while he was explaining punnet squares. And yes, I do remember what the lesson was about. I also remember what book I was reading: A morbid taste for bones, the first in the cadfael series, and I was completely absorbed in it. He asked me a question and I looked up from my book about three seconds after he had called my name for the second time.
"Huh?" I asked.
"Elijah I asked you a question. Answer me please." He said. I gulped, I hadn't heard the question.
"Can you repeat the question?" I asked, hiding my book between my legs.
"Can anyone tell Elijah what the question was?" He said in a disappointed tone. I found out I couldn't stand his disappointment either.
"If two people are heterozygous, what is the chance they could have a baby with both recessive genes?" Some girl repeated.
"25% Sir." I said. He had his hands on his hips and was looking pointedly at the book under my desk. He beckoned with two fingers to me. I put the book down and got up and walked over to the front of the room.
"Elijah go back to your desk and get that book you left please." He said, glaring like thunder. My whole body was shaking with cold sweat and anticipation.
"Yes Sir." I said and got the book. I had to give it to him, and thought the punishment was over with that. I was wrong.
"Elijah, you're riding home with me today." He said at the end of class.
"I'm not taking the bus Sir?" I asked. It was not unusual that he would drive me home or that my mum would drive me home, but this was tuesday, and he had to stay and grade monday's papers. I took the bus on tuesdays. I knew something was up.
"No, you are not taking the bus. I need to talk to you." he said without looking at me. He had never hit me, but I feared it, because he never said he wouldn't either. He was very strong, having been on the varsity football team in high school, and run a marathon in college. He was built, and powerful. My motor was thin and I feared she might shatter if someone pushed her over. If she hit me, it wouldn't hurt, but if my stepfather did, I was in deep sh***.
At first it was like detention, I just stayed there while he graded papers. Then he got up and packed his things. I started to do the same, and he put up his hand to signal stop.
"No Elijah I said I needed to talk to you, sit down." He said. I sat.
"What makes you think it is appropriate for you to read or do something else during my class. I think it is rude and disrespectful. Not only am I your teacher, I am also responsible for you as a father. If you disrespect me and other teachers in this way, I have failed as both teacher and parent. Understand?" He said. I think he said something along those lines, but hey, it was forever ago.
"Yes Sir." I said, knot forming in my stomach.
"This isn't the first time, we need to fix this."
"Yes Sir."
"I am going to make sure you remember it too, and I expect nothing less of excellence out of you Elijah. I know you're capable of it."
"Yes Sir."
"Good, you understand. Bend over the desk." He said. I was petrified! Mortified! I had never been spanked before, and wondered what would happen if I argued and begged.
"Dad please. I'll never do it again." I said.
"It's too late Elijah, arguing will make it worse, and I wouldn't try my patience if I were you. Bend over, now." He said, pointing. Butterflies were forming in my stomach and my head was swimming, trying to understand that I was going to be hurt, by my stepdad.
"But,.." I stuttered, voice on the verge of cracking.
"Don't make me tell you again. Bend over." He said more severely, but not yelling yet. I gulped and walked over to the desk. I looked at him, and his expressionless face, pointing to the desk. I put my hands on the desk and bent over it. I heard him taking off his belt. A jolt of fear ran through my back and I gasped.
"Next time you'll pay attention when I'm talking to you." He said even toned.
"Yes Sir! I promise!" I begged.
"I want to be proud of my stepson Elijah, do not disappoint me." he said, and I caught a twinge of emotional reaction out of his words. He was sad that he had to spank me. I couldn't fathom why, after all, it wasn't hurting him. When I grew up and now have a stepson too, I found out where he was coming from. I am 30, a second year medical resident, and married to a beautiful woman named Katya, a nurse who has a son named Pyotr. I totally understand, and laugh at my ignorant former self.
"Yes Sir." I whimpered. I remember hearing the belt whistle and hit my bum with a smack! The pain came a moment later, and I gave an involuntary groan. I arched my back, and wanted to rub the already forming welt. He hit me again, and my eyes watered. I put my hand on my backside, and he hit my hand with the belt. He told me not to do that again. After the fifth time he hit me, I was in tears, and by the seventh, I was sobbing. He stopped at ten.
"Alright, you can get up now. It's over." he said, kneeling by my side and pulling me into a hug. He shhd me and patted my back, telling me it was over, and that is was alright now. He told me not to cry, and that I had been brave. I cried on his shoulder for a while and buried my face in my hands. He stood up and took me by the shoulders.
"Don't you make me do that again, understand?" He said harshly.
"Yes Sir." I said, nodding vigorously.
"Good. I'm proud of you, you just need to understand that when an adult is talking, you're paying attention. You need to take that advice the rest of your life, because I am not going to be there all the time to give you a spanking when you need it son, so from now on I don't want to see any disrespect from you. If I do, you know exactly where you'll end up. Understand?" He said, making sure I was keeping eye contact at all times. All I could do was nod. I had stopped crying now and he gave me another hug. I forget what we talked about on the way home, but I think he gave me a review of the lesson he had been giving that day on genetics. We ended up having an okay rest of the night. When my mum asked what had kept us so long, we exchanged a look, and I said that my stepdad had given me a review of that day's lesson, and that we were sorry we were late. They kissed, I made a disgusted face (I was pretty immature, and kissing grossed me out when it was between my parents). I think he must have told her after dinner, and she took away my book. She still never hit me, but my stepdad gave me a couple more spankings before I was grown and gone, but they were pretty fair. I will freely admit I was a little brat sometimes, but not after he reminded me of my place. He ended up being a pretty good stepdad, and a great grandpa to Pyotr. Pyotr is four, and never gets tired of visiting his grandparents who spoil him then give him back to Katya and I with wide grins, knowing we won't have enough room in our house for all the new things they bought him. Pyotr was Katya's child with her boyfriend who just didn't want kids, but still sends his love during holidays. Pyotr will always be my son though, and Katya will always be my lovely wife. My lovely mother and my Stepdad are still married, and she still teaches English. My stepdad is still a science teacher, and he and my mum have been married for 23 years now, going on 24 this december. I thank both parents for making me who I am. I wanted to share the story show people how much a person can influence your life. I don't know how it would have turned out if they hadn't met.

PS. I still love books, and can read them late at night as much as I want now. Lol

Princelegolas Princelegolas
26-30, M
2 Responses Sep 12, 2012

It always amaze me, how many persons remember a strict, but well deserved punishment from their parents with fondness, love and respect! You should be traumatized for life, at least according to the child health experts.

I'm not traumatized at all. I think overall I had a pretty good childhood, even if I was a brat sometimes. Sure there are patches and parts when I thought it sucked, but then again, that is the same for a lot of people. I don't resent my parents or anything, in fact, I parent after their model. If you add up your whole life, usually you see that it rocked most of the time, and when it didn't, it didn't last very long.

That's a priceless story, so well told. Wish I had met my adoptive parents long before I experienced my first discipline at age 17 and then I seemed to make up for lost time given my sexual interest and pee brain thinking that got me in trouble through the rest of high school and into early college. Hope you check out my stories. I rated up your story.

cool. I'm glad you think it was well-written. I can't even fathom how many grammatical mistakes I must have made though. I will read your stories. thx.