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Forced Back To School In Shorts

 

I guess this is where my love hate relationship with school uniforms and t-bar sandals began and it is as near as I can remember bearing in mind this happened back in the early 1970’s. I don’t know if this will strike a chord with anyone else, but if it does I’d love to hear about it.

 

So on to my story.

A week or so before the school broke up for the Easter holidays when I had just turned 13, I was going into the last lesson of the day, which was English. While we waited outside the classroom a couple of my friends were egging me on to slide into the classroom. I was wearing my army cadet boots which had hobnails in the soles, and I loved to slide on the concrete with them showering clouds of sparks. Never one to back down from a dare, I charged into the classroom and slid towards my desk.

Unfortunately Mr. Ellis, the teacher, was already in the classroom and saw exactly what happened.

 The floor was wood and the hobnails left some large scratches in the surface. To make matters worse, I tripped and landed on my knees, tearing a big hole in my school trousers. Mr. Ellis was incensed and I thought he was actually going to hit me as he charged out from behind his desk to where I had fallen and yanked me to my feet.  

What do you think your game is he bellowed in my face? I tried to stammer out a reply but words failed me. There was no way I could try to defend my actions in scratching the floor by making it out to have been done accidentally and I just hung my head in shame. Mr. Ellis marched me by the scruff of the neck down to the Headmaster, Mr Weadon. 

 He explained to the head what I’d done and left me to go back to the class. Mr. Weadon read me the riot act then gave me 6 of the best across the seat of my trousers. I was then made to stand in the corner of his office while he phoned my parents and explained the situation to them. I could hear on the phone that my mum was not best pleased and dreaded the consequences when I got home.

 If that wasn’t bad enough, Mr Weadon then went on to tell mum that he had been going to ring her regarding another aspect of my behaviour, that of bullying one of the younger pupils at  the school. I had no idea what he was talking about until he started to tell her about young Paul Irvine. He explained that I had been one of the ringleaders in making the boy’s life a misery at school by continually taunting him because his parents made him wear grey short trousers to school. I just thought it was a lark not really bullying because I never hit him or anything. Not only that I used the teasing of him to deflect the teasing away from myself because at a smidgen over 4 feet 10, I was one of the smallest kids in school.  

I couldn’t hear what was being said, but had grave misgivings for the near future. When he’d finished on the phone Mr. Weadon told me to come back to his desk. He again read the riot act and told me that if there was any further bad behaviour from me he would not hesitate to expel me from the school. He then told me to sit down and take off my army boots. I didn’t dare argue, and gingerly sat on my tender bottom as I undid the boot laces and took them off.

 Mr. Weadon picked up the boots and put them into the cupboard where lost property was kept. He rummaged about in a box then pulled out some footwear for me. I couldn’t believe it when he handed me a pair of black plimsolls with an elastic gusset over the foot. These were only worn by really young kids and I didn’t want to put them on, but Mr. Weadon told me that if I didn’t I would not be coming back to school at the end of the Easter Holidays as he would expel me.

 With my eyes stinging from the tears I slowly slipped my feet into the plimsolls then made my way back to the class. Mr. Ellis made sure everyone knew what I was wearing so there was no way I could try to hide the fact. After the lesson was over I made my way through the throng of pupils to Mr Weadon’s office to get my boots back. Many of the kids poked fun at me and I began to regret making fun of young Paul as I now knew how he must have felt.

 Mr. Weadon wouldn’t give me back the boots and told me that I had to go home in what I was wearing. He also told me that my mum had agreed and that it was to be part of my punishment. With tears in my eyes I once again left his office and began the long walk home.

 Mum was furious and when she asked why I wore my army boots to school, I lied and told her that I didn’t have any other shoes as I had outgrown them. She already knew that my shoes were okay so I got another dose of the cane for lying, then got sent to bed without any supper and my shoes were thrown away.

 I thought the incident had been forgotten with the exception that I had to wear the horrid plimsolls all the holiday. The Saturday before we went back to school however, I discovered that I had been sorely mistaken.

Mum took me into town for some new trousers and shoes, ready to wear to school on Monday. We went into the schools shop in town and mum told me to go into the changing room and take off my jeans and t-shirt while she got me some new shirts to try and some trousers.

I had gotten down to my socks and underpants when she stuck her head through the curtain and told me to take off my socks as well because I was getting me some new ones. I did as she said and took off my socks. She stuck her hand through the curtain and handed me a new grey shirt. I put the shirt on then the tie which was next through the curtain, followed by a pair of socks. Not ordinary socks, these were grey knee socks and had a light blue band surrounded by two navy blue bands around the turn over. The only boy I knew that wore them was Paul Irvine though others probably did, but under their long trousers. I started to complain to her, but she told me to be quiet and put them on unless I wanted some more of the cane.

I sulked a bit but did as I was told figuring it didn’t matter because nobody would see them under my trousers anyway. Next mum gave me a grey jumper that like my new socks had blue bands around the cuffs and neck. This had been part of the uniform up until the previous year but was now being phased out. The new uniform was just plain grey as were the socks.

This paled to insignificance however, when the next item came through the curtain. I took the trousers that mum gave me and shook them out to unfold them, but then realised she had given me a pair of grey school shorts.   I stuck my head out of the curtain and called her back. She walked over and asked me what the problem was? You’ve given me a pair of shorts I said in a hoarse whisper. I know she replied, because that’s what you are going back to school in, now get them on and come out here so that I can see. I told her no I wouldn’t wear them because they were for little kids. She gave me a menacing look and told me that I had behaved like a little kid, by bullying a younger boy and tearing my big boy’s trousers and that from now on I would only be wearing little boy’s short school trousers. She also told me to be quick about dressing unless I wanted another dose of the cane.

I was stunned, as I sat back on the small chair and with tears again stinging my eyes put my feet into the grey school shorts noticing as I did, that the label inside stated that they were for ages 8 to 9 years. I drew them up and to my dismay found they were a perfect fit. I summoned all my courage and stepped out into the shop where I could be seen. Mum and the shop assistant told me how smart I looked in my new uniform and the assistant then got a new blazer for me. Again I couldn’t believe what I was given to wear. The new school blazer was just plain black, but the one given to me was navy blue wool with sky blue piping, which was the old style that was again being phased out.

Mum told me to put my plimsolls back on and as I did so she bought lots of pairs of new socks a couple more jumpers and 3 more pairs of grey school shorts. When I had the plimsolls on I came back to the counter where she was waiting to pay. She turned to me and gave me a school cap which matched the blazer and was again something that was being phased out and not worn by many of the other kids. The look she gave me prevented me from saying anything I just placed the cap on my head with tears in my eyes.

The last item I was given to wear was a double breasted gabardine raincoat. It was sunny outside so once I had tried it on mum took it off me and placed it on the counter with the rest of my new school uniform. I was mortified when the assistant asked if I needed a new cubs uniform too as they had a sale on. Ah now there’s an idea mum said and told him to sort me one out. I just hung my head, I couldn’t believe it, mum was going to get me a new cub-scout uniform despite the fact that I was over 13 and in my second year at senior school. I didn’t have to try it on but the thought that mum had actually bought me a cub-scout uniform had me wondering what would be next. As it turned out I didn’t have long to wait to find out.

Mum gathered up the purchases and told me to come on as we were going to get me some new shoes. I asked her if I could change back into my t-shirt and jeans but she told me no. I followed her out to the car fully expecting people to start ribbing me about my uniform, but nobody seemed to notice and I relaxed a little.

We drove over to the other side of town to the large shoe shop which sold both Clarks and Start-rite shoes. We went in and bumped straight into my school friend Steve Jennings. He laughed when he saw me and started ribbing me about going back to primary school. I hoped mum would say something, but she just smiled then said it’s not nice is it?

Steve’s mum looked a bit shocked at first when she realised who I was, but then smiled and complemented me on my smart appearance. Then turned to Steve and told him that unless he wanted to end up going to school dressed like me, he had best watch his step and not be nasty to me. She then propelled my evilly grinning mate outside.

When Steve and his mum had gone, I agreed with my mum and told her I was sorry I had bullied Paul Irvine and that I really didn’t want to go back to school like this. She laughed at that and told me that I had better get used to it because that is how I would be dressed from now on or at least until I showed her that I was grown up enough to go back into long trousers.

She told me to sit on the chair take off my plimsolls and wait. I did as she said and she went over to find an assistant. When they came back to me the assistant was carrying several boxes that he placed on the floor. He had me stand on a measuring gauge as he measured my feet, then selected one of the boxes and took off the lid. He told me to sit down and pulled my foot up to the stool he was sitting on. He took the shoe out of the box and I looked on in abject horror as he began to buckle a brown Clarks t-bar school sandal onto my foot.

I looked at mum and pleaded with her, but she just said it’s either this or I will take you over my knee remove your shorts and pants and spank you right here and now in this shop. You will then still end up wearing those sandals to school. I sobbed as the assistant finished off buckling on the other sandal and he then had me stand up and walk up and down the shop. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and realised my fears were justified, I looked like a 9 year old.

I pleaded with mum again for some shoes to go with the sandals and she told me that I was going to get a pair of shoes. I breathed a sigh of relief, at least I thought I could get out of the house in the sandals then change into my shoes before I got to school. If only I could figure a way of getting some long trousers as well I would be okay.

The assistant came back with another box, which he opened and took out a shoe. My face must have been a picture as I again looked with horror at the shoe he was holding. It was a girls single bar Mary-Jane shoe in navy blue leather. Noo I cried I cant wear those. Mum snarled at me and told me to be quiet and that I would wear whatever she decided from now on. I wiped away the tears and sniffled as the assistant first took off my new sandals and fitted the Mary-Jane’s onto my feet.

I was ordered to walk up and down the shop again and this time noticed that several other parents and children were watching with some amusement at what I was wearing. When I sat down mum told me that I would be wearing them at my cousins wedding in two weeks time. She said that when my cousin had asked if I would be a pageboy with her younger brother Michael, she had told her no. That despite 9 year old Michael and myself looking similar in stature I was too old to wear the white sailor suit with short trousers that my younger cousin was going to have to endure. Because of my trouble however, she had decided that I was now going to be a pageboy with Michael and that I would wear the same clothes as him. She then asked the shop assistant if he had any white knee socks in my size.

The assistant went out to the stockroom and when he returned he had 2 packets of white socks. I couldn’t help but notice that they were labelled girls school socks. We only have these he told mum, to which she replied they would be fine. The assistant sat at the stool and removed my shoes and socks, then replaced them with the white socks. I was mortified at having to once again walk up and down the length of the shop but this time wearing what were quite obviously little girl’s shoes and socks.

Worse was to come though because mum then bought a pair of bright red girl’s sandals for me to play in and I was forced to go home in my new school uniform with girl’s white school knee socks and a pair of Start-rite navy blue leather Mary-Jane shoes.  

When we got home I was told to stay in my uniform and also stay indoors to keep clean as we were going back out in about an hour’s time. I pleaded with mum to let me take off the Mary-Jane shoes and girls socks, but she told me that we were going to the bridal shop to get me fitted for my pageboy’s suit. She went upstairs and told me to watch tv for a while. Feeling thoroughly dejected and really not looking forward to school on Monday I did as I was told.

Twenty minutes or so later mum came down with some bin-liners and put them in the car. She made us some lunch and we sat and ate it. All the time we were eating lunch I begged and pleaded with mum not to make me go to school dressed as I was when she told me not to worry that I wouldn’t be going dressed like it. A flood of relief washed over me until she told me with a laugh that I would be wearing my sandals and my grey school knee socks.

After lunch we headed out to the bridal wear shop. On the way we stopped at a Red Cross charity shop and she had me help her get the bin-liners out of the boot and take them in.

When we got there my cousin was waiting for us and she smiled at my appearance. She gushed over how smart I looked and the fact that she was so grateful for me agreeing to help out with her brother as pageboy. Mum just glared at me so I didn’t say I was being forced to. The shop was quiet so they had me ***** to my underpants without going into a changing room. I started to protest but mum just gave me that look.

When I was down to my underpants white knee socks and Mary-Jane shoes, the lady owner measured me for the suit and told me to cheer up. When the measurements were done I got dressed again and we went home. When we got home mum told me to get changed into the clothes she had put on the bed for me to wear and hang up my uniform.

I went upstairs to my room and looked at what mum had put out for me. I sat on the bed and cried for about ten minutes when I saw the clothes then, with new resolve I decided that I was not going to wear them. No, I thought, I am going to wear my jeans and t-shirt and went to the wardrobe to get them out. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I opened the cupboard. It looked like a seven year olds wardrobe. All my clothes were gone and in their place was a whole lot of new stuff.

There was not a pair of long trousers in sight and all the shirts were like little kids would wear. There were things like a yellow Winnie-the-Pooh t-shirt and the short trousers were all pastel colours.

I stood there with my mouth open unable to believe what I was seeing when a noise behind, made me turn around. I turned to find mum behind me with a smile on her face. You haven’t changed she said, in a matter of fact manner. What did I tell you about obeying the rules from now on she asked? I just stood and looked at her then shouted at her for putting all this stupid kids stuff in my wardrobe. I demanded to know where my clothes were and told her that there was no way I was going to wear these clothes.

Mum grabbed my wrist and dragged me over to the bed. Without any trouble what-so-ever she quickly had my school shorts and underpants off and me draped over her knee.

I received the hardest spanking I have ever had for the next five minutes. She must have smacked me thirty times on each of my bum cheeks, which were on fire by the time she had finished.  She stood me up and told me that I had helped her take all my old clothes into the Red Cross and these clothes were the only ones I had so I had better get used to wearing them, because my punishment had just increased by six months. She told me that she had intended to let me back into clothes more suited to a boy my age at the start of the autumn school term, but because of my outburst, that duration had just been extended to this time next year, by which time I would be fourteen.

I stood howling from the spanking and pleading with mum, but she simply said I can extend it by another six months if you like. Realising I was on a loser, I quickly changed my tune and through my sobs I agreed to do as I was told. Good she said and started to take off my school sweater tie and shirt. She had me sit on the bed and took off the Mary-Jane shoes. She then put the red sandals on over my girl’s school socks. She had me step back into my under pants and then slipped a t-shirt over my head. It was a pale yellow one with pictures of The Clangers on it. She had me step into the pale yellow shorts that matched the shirt and pulled them up. These were definitely a young child’s shorts as they had a fully elastic waist and no fly, which meant I would have to pull them down to have a pee.

She told me to go and play outside in the back garden until tea and warned me not to get dirty. Fortunately the back garden was fairly secluded so I had no fears about going out dressed as I was. I played on my own until she called me in for tea at six-o-clock. After tea I was told to get in the bath and she would come up to wash me. I started to argue and she just raised her hand to shut me up and said I can extend your punishment. I said no more I just went up and took off my new clothes, which I left on the bed and went through to the bathroom. She came up just after I had gotten in and washed me all over.

Finally she got me out and dried me off them sprinkled talc all over me before leading me naked into the bedroom. In the bedroom, she took some new pyjamas out of the dresser and put them on me. I just hung my head in shame at the Winnie-The-Pooh motif on the shirt and shorts. I was so traumatised by the day’s events I didn’t even think of arguing when she had me get into bed kissed me on the forehead and drew my bedroom curtains. I guess the day must have worn me out because I went straight to sleep despite it only being about seven thirty.

Sunday morning came around and mum woke me with a cup of tea. She opened my wardrobe and got some shorts a top and a pair of white ankle socks out for me to wear. The shorts were fire engine red and she said that they matched my red sandals. She told me to wash my hands a face and clean my teeth then get dressed while she made us breakfast.

I did as I was told and realised that these shorts like the others I had on yesterday would have to be pulled down for me to pee. Not because they were elastic waist ones, no the reason was that these were actually shortalls and they had no fly. I played by myself again all day in the back garden and in my bedroom secretly worrying about the following day and going to school in my new school uniform.

Monday morning came and I slowly got myself dressed. Mum had put my uniform out while I slept the night before. As I pulled on the shorts I realised that these had no fly either, and would have to pull down to pee. I wiped away a tear and stepped into my Clarks T-bar sandals. I did up the buckles and then looked at the nine year old looking back at me from the mirror on my wardrobe door. I picked up my blazer and cap and went down to breakfast.

Mum was pleased that I hadn’t argued and she told me that It had been a good thing that I hadn’t. She told me that ii I had argued this morning she would have made me wear my white schoolgirl socks and Mary-Jane shoes to school. It was raining that morning so after breakfast, mum had me put my sandals into my new satchel and wear my new wellies to school. As I listened she telephoned my form master and explained my situation to him and told him to make sure that I changed into my sandals once in class, so I knew there was no getting out of it. She helped me on with my raincoat and placed my cap on my head before giving me a peck on the cheek, and sending me out the front door to my fate.

I trudged through the rain towards my school highly conscious of what I was wearing and how I looked. Nobody paid the slightest attention to this little primary schoolboy making his way to school in his raincoat, school cap, junior style blue wellingtons that had a yellow splash protector around the top and the tops of his grey knee socks poking up above them. I knew however, that this would all change when I got to school.

Half a mile from the school I bumped into my friend Steven Jennings. He didn’t recognise me at first, but soon burst out laughing at my misfortune. When I burst into tears though, he stopped laughing. At first I was inconsolable, but eventually he calmed me down and even offered to take me back to his house and lend me some long trousers. I was so grateful for his offer, but was too scared to take him up on it and explained the reason why. He told me that he thought that it was a joke at first and that he expected my mum to let me off and allow me some long trousers and couldn’t believe it when I told him about the rest of my wardrobe. He actually started to feel sorry for me and promised he would stick by me, which was no small comfort.

When we got to the school, things were as bad as I’d expected. I was ribbed mercilessly and to be honest, just as much as I had ribbed young Paul Irvine in the year below me. I had to endure the taunts of most of the other kids in the school, but Steve was true to his word and stuck up for me. It only quietened down when we had to line up to go into our classes when there were a lot of teachers around. We filed into class after hanging up our top coats in the cloakroom. I got to my desk and sat down without changing my wellies, hoping that my form master, Mr. Waller, would not notice. That was a mistake that I only realised when he looked at me when he called my name out as he was taking the register. When I answered that I was present he looked up and asked if I had changed my wellies? Then after looking at my legs under my desk he said obviously not. He told me to change them and to put my wellies in the cloakroom and that he would wait for me to do so before carrying on with he morning register. So there I was the focus of everyone’s attention as I reluctantly took of my wellies. Tears pricked my eyes as a ripple of laughter went round as I took my Clarks t-bar sandals out of my satchel and put them on. I then had to walk out to the cloak room, with my wellies in my sandals to put them into the cloakroom. Mr Waller ordered quiet and carried on with the register when I got back.

Things were as bad when I got into the playground at break and then again at lunch. On the way home I had at least a dozen kids mocking me as Steve and I walked back to my house.

This was the lead up to and my first day at school in grey school shorts, but it was by no means the last. Things didn’t really get any better for me as the year wore on either as mum, who was Akela of the local cub-scouts pack, had me go with her on Wednesday evenings… in my new cub-scouts uniform because she felt I could no longer be trusted at home on my own.

I’d love to hear about others experiences so if you have some please post them for us all to read.

Thomas T-bars.   

 

 

 

thomastbars thomastbars 51-55, M 35 Responses Nov 19, 2009

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Enjoy wearing shorts as a youth while u can....such luxury wont last

Hi Kevin, what a fascinating, and sad account of your formative years. I'm guessing that this was a long time ago, and much of the raw emotion of that situation has passed? How do you feel about the situation now, when you look back? Did the unintentional humiliation affect you, or did the trauma of losing your dad, and to all intents and purposes, your mum, overshadow your attire and eye-wear? Has this period in your life left you with multiple fetishes for things like, Clarks t-bar sandals and wire rimmed glasses? Thanks for your story, but I'd love for you to elaborate on what prompted you to write it, in the first place. Thomas

Actually 1961 was even more tumultuous than I probably suggested. My dad committed suicide rather than face personal bankruptcy. Some I moved from an apparently quite prosperous home in the South of England to a council estate on the edge of a Northern industrial city. I think the way I was outfitted was in a way a preparation for the very suddenly changed circumstances of my life. In may have sounded a little heartless but it was far from that. My gran was doing her best to help me adapt to my new circumstances, rather than hankering after what was lost.

I think that how you are first perceived by your peers at school has an important and enduring impact. I think that it is easy to be pigeon-holed and it is difficult to change an initial impression once it has been made. I think also unconsciously you also adapt to meet the expectations of others. The nerdy way I looked and the unfashionable, rather juvenile way I was dressed, elicited quite a predicable response. I was not so much bullied as pushed around and made the butt of jokes. Being shy to start with I became more reclusive and less socially adept. Lacking self-assurance I became something of a loner and quite bookish; also conforming to a stereotype of the lad with thick glasses. During breaks and after dinner time, I used to find a quiet place away from others to read. I read assiduously and always had a book in the pocket of my jacket or anorak. When I started making friends, they tended to be in the year below me. I suppose there was less stigma being associated with me.

But there have been advantages too. Being bookish I became the class “swot”; it was a natural role for me as it conformed to people’s views of me. It gave substance to the teasing I received. It also resulted in my being one of the few boys to go on to college. By that time I had become comfortable with the way I looked and dressed so I continued that way. Somehow it had become my identity and I am happy with that. In fact it is difficult to think that my school and college days could have been any different to the way they turned out. May be I was that person all along.

My story is not the same as yours. The causes are different; the result quite similar.

My dad died suddenly when I was eleven and my mum suffered a nervous collapse soon afterwards, so for a number of years I was essentially brought up by my grandparents with mum making the occasional appearance. This meant moving to another part of the country and, as a consequence, I started at a new school in a place I had yet to make any friends.

In outfitting me for school my grandmother did not in any way want to punish me or inflict embarrassment; she was just old-fashioned and thrifty. School outfits needed to be hardwearing and value for money. Style counted for nothing.

A few years earlier I was found to be short-sighted so I needed to wear glasses. Before school my eyesight was tested again and I needed a new stronger prescription; each time, always stronger. To my horror I was supplied with a pair of blue plastic framed NHS glasses with curly wire earpieces. I was given no choice in the matter. However much I hated them I needed to see clearly so I had no option but to wear them.

We did not have school uniforms as I was sent to the local secondary modern, which like many others had not adopted a school uniform, so my grandmother designed a passable imitation: white shirt, grey pullover and grey shorts, cotton or flannel depending on the season. In summer I wore short socks and in winter long ones. Initially I was provided brown plastic sandals and then, as they did not wear that well, typical Clarks ‘t’ bar sandals with crepe soles. Just before going to school I was despatched to the local barber and given a savage short back and sides which left me with a fringe and a tuft of hair on top.

While there were boys who still wore shorts at school, long trousers were certainly the norm. So on my first day at my new school with my self confidence drained out, I looked exactly like a primary school pupil who had accidentally strayed into the senior school. Being small and slightly built, I looked much younger than I was. I also looked like a complete nerd. Unsurprisingly I was treated accordingly and found myself at the bottom of the food chain.

By about fourteen I graduated to long polyester grey trousers; again very practical and hard-wearing. I was the last in my class by a year to have continued to wear shorts, not just to school but throughout the holidays as well. I still had short back and sides but the blue plastic frames had been replaced by mottled brown ones in the same NHS style. Also Clarks sandals had given way to sensible Tuf lace-up shoes which with their thick rubber soles were even longer lasting. I still looked younger than my years but as I was in my penultimate year at school I was no longer at the bottom of the heap and had made some good friends along the way. For all that my appearance and the way I dressed certainly had a profound effect on how I was treated at school.

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Yes you're absolutely correct strictsir. I deserved everything I got and I got everything I deserved. I didn't see it at first because I didn't think what I had done was bullying. However, having been put back into short trousers, and experiencing for myself what I had subjected the other boy to, I realised the error of my ways, as it were. As for complaining, I did at the time, but not now, these days I wish I could go back and experience it again.

I think I had a fetish for short trousers even when I was wearing them. Until I got longs I had never owned any and was more than happy in shorts. I remember people asking if I wanted long trousers even though according to an old diary I still have, I was 5' 9'' at thirteen. My answer to the question was always no. I started secondary school with cap, knee socks and Clarks sandals but did lose the sandals in the winter forever these being replaced with TUF shoes for boys. I have many memories relating to short trousers like getting a new suit at 11, being turned down by a girl I fancied because she wouldn't be seen dead with a someone in school grey shorts and being refused half fare because the ticket clerk didn't believe I was 13 and said don't think you can just put on short trousers and get half fare. I also had an Aunt who when I stayed with her, would insist that everywhere we went I had to put on my green three piece Short trouser suit which I was more than happy to do, as I loved that suit. I have relayed other stories about my short trouser experiences elsewhere but strangely enough when I did eventually pluck up the courage to ask Mum & Dad for long trousers it was not through me really wanting to wear them or pressure from close friends at school I made the change but other kids beginning to push me to go into longs. Why I changed I don't know but the first day out on a school trip in longs I was as miserable and uncomfortable as could be and was going return to shorts but Mum said after spending the money on long trousers that I was now to continue wearing them. I did contemplate damaging them so I could return to shorts but my parents were so hard working and had forked hard earned money on new trousers for me and I just didn't have the nerve. As soon as I was alone in the house though I would often put on kneesocks, my suit or grey shorts and enjoy the wonderful feeling again and when I stayed with my Aunt a year on when I was 15 she said Oh where is that lovely suit - how I wished I had stowed it away in my case but sadly my Mum had given all my short trousers and kneesocks to the rag & bone man. These feelings and memories have never left me even though I'm now in my mid 60s

She did the right thing by you as you did taunt the younger boy and now you too was made to measure to be the 'other' young boy in your new attire.<br />
You faced the music and got roasted for it but had I been your best schoolmate then I would have gone back to grey shorts for two years just to say that we liked being healthy with the suns rays hitting our legs and giving us good vitamins.

some mothers have a real talent for dressing their boys in excrutiating ways, in my case my mothers choice of shorts was skin tight lycra in the 1990s!

I think short shorts are sexy. I like to wear them even though I am grown up now.

I think short shorts are sexy. I like to wear them even though I am grown up now.

Join the club, or to join the club properly, you have to don the rest of your school uniform too.

The same is true about having to wear black gusset school plimsoles

I liked the story very much - excellent It reminds me of being that age round the same time - to answer about where the boots came from I would guess you were in the combined cadet force as were many public school and grammer school boys at the time.<br />
I had a school hellish experience as bad but endeded up liking it in my case I had been a really horrid spoilt brat so some might say I deserved it. Perhaps you can take a look later and give your opinion. I'm going to start writing now - all the best

I had become out of control and a very naughty between the ages of 12 - 14 but mum decided not to put up with it anymore and had a drastic cure for my very bad behavior.<br />
I was made to write an apology to her and sign it saying that I would behave in future - I took little notice at the time.<br />
Following monday she asked me to go shopping with her in town so I did - not knowing what was to come. She told me that I would be sent to boarding school if I did not do every thing she told me to.<br />
At this point I was marched into the boys school outfitters where mum asked if they stocked grey school shorts that would fit me and navy blue knee lenght school socks - I was shocked as I was quite with it and dressed grown up till that moment - I had to change in the shop and mum told me I would dress in them every day until she decided that I was behaving.<br />
This was bad enough but the worst was still to come. I was marched out in my new shorts and socks - I hoped no one I knew would see me - but this was only half of my punishment for being such a rotton spoilt boy. We walked down the road and stopped at the girls school outfitters - mum asked the sales lady if they had a girls navy blue gaberdine mackintosh with a hood and tarten lining to fit me - I felt quite ill at hearing this and just wanted to run away.<br />
The shop lady returned with a girls navy blue gaberdine mackintosh with a hood and it had an extra twist because it was rubber backed cotton with a tarten lining. Mum told me to try it on then fastened all the buttons including the top one - then the belt was pulled tight and tucked under to keep it tight. Mum put my hood up and I wanted to die but she just fastened it under my neck and pushed it down round my neck so everyone could see my tarten hood. The mac smelt of rubber and made quite a noise I didn't know weather to laugh or cry as I stood in the shop with people looking on. My mum said that it was a big improvement on the clothes I'd been wearing and told me she would sell them. " Thats much better you look like a different boy now - you must dress like this from now on and when I think you are behaving I might let you take your hood off but not til then in fact I'm going to sew it on properly when we get home so you don't loose it or have it pinched at school". I was shaking and saw myself in the mirror - being slim and a bit pritty for a boy I thought that I looked very girly and childish which is what my mum wanted - she new I'd be no trouble from now on and that she was back in control.Wearing my girls rubberised school gaberdine raincoat caused scraps at school and I was called a sissy and worse but to be honest I fell in love with it and wanted to wear it as much as possible which I did for the next few years - it was worth all the embarressment and humiliation and if I had my time again would gladly wear it again

I was put back into grey school shorts as a punishement when I was 14. This lasted for two whole weeks. My mother decided I was getting above myself and so as a punishment made me wear grey shorts and knee socks back to school. This was probably the most humiliating thing that ever happend to me. All the other boys totally took the mickey out of me. It was worse as I did ( and still do) have a fetish for schol shorts. The teachers seemed to take it as an excuse to single me out and punish me even more, the games master was the worst and he seemed to enjoy slippereing me in my shorts. I also got my legs slapped on a couple of occasions and it was so embarasing that people could see the red splodges on my bare legs. I was driven to school each morning and collected at the end of each day to ensure that i didnt get changed on the way to school. I was really thankful at the end of the two weeks and I could return back to Longs. The teasing took a whole term to finally die off. Now I look back and it is a huge turn on for me

Well I went to a semi private boarding school, I say semi private as I was sent there by my welfare officer for not being in a good family situation.<br />
I myself didn't have to wear school shorts although I wish I had and wanted to so much that I owned 3 pairs of boys school shorts. The year was 1968/9/70. I was always in trouble at school and one of the punishments with the cane was to be put back in small boys school shorts. Dam it never happened to me. For me it was very difficult because not onyl did I have a fetish at 12 for school shorts, but also for wearing nappies/diapers under them and being forced back to babyhood.

First, in reference to the posting above, I was 19 in 1982 and completely horny. What I wouldn't have given to see the 13 year old boy in school shorts - I bet he looked fantastic! I have a fetish for boys in grey or charcoal school shorts, preferably very short showing most of the thigh, with knee high socks - I have several pairs of shorts, socks, grey and white shirts, tie, cap and blazer. I also have a fetish for nappies and plastic pants so would love to meet someone who feels the same. My fantasy is that I would go out with a friend dressed as an incontinent school boy and have an accident in my nappy. I have to be brought home and changed and told off. Wow! But in reality my experience was similar, but slightly unusual. At primary school shorts were the rule but we wore our own clothes, so I usually wore checked shorts probably with a roll neck sweater. However, being partially sighted, I had to go to boarding school near Coventry (I am from Lancashire really) as there was no integration in 1973. I was put into short trousers (charcoal for school, grey for Sunday best and for going home in on the last day of term), but placed in the "middle" or "commerce" stream. I did well and was third in the end of year exams, so was then moved sideways into Prep II. I had been the youngest in the class in Commerce I and the only one in shorts, but I didn't really mind although was disappointed when I was actually given the shorts. During that year some of my contemporaries were 12 so got long trousers, including a certain boy called Matthew, who had been in Prep I. He moved up into Prep II with me, but, being 12, had long trousers. Because we went home in our posh school uniforms, I climbed into my father's Ford Escort in July 1974 wearing pale or mid grey school shorts, a crisp white shirt and the rest of the uniform. Because I had gone home in the uniform, I had to wear it back again in the September. My parents were pretty good and we would drive to a service station in my own long trousers, then change into the school shorts in the car before driving to the school. Well, the first thing that happened, of course, was that I was in a different room with two new boys and an old one - Patrick was the old one who had been in shorts but had got longs during the previous school year, and Michael and Ciaran were the two new ones. Michael was a bully and couldn't believe I was still wearing shorts. The minute my parents had gone after dropping me off he started on me, and never left it alone till after Christmas when I finally got long trousers. And that winter was a pretty cold one, too. My bare legs were absolutely freezing! But then, of course, the following day I had to wear the frigging shorts to school. I was the only one in the class in them and I could hear them all tittering to themselves. I was in the grammar stream now and still looked like a silly little boy. The bullying was merciless so I carried on going round with my best friend, another Michael, who was a bit younger than me so was still wearing shorts. This only made things worse as Michael (my friend) wasn't very clever and the new house matron we had in the house was completely merciless too. I guess that was why she made me wait till January 1975, when I was actually 12, to give me long trousers. They were lovely at the time, but now, with my fetish, it really didn't do me any harm and I think the world would be a much better place if all boys had to wear short trousers and knee high socks, till at least 13, but preferably all the way through till leaving, like Sedbergh School in Cumbria and Loretto School near Edinburgh did (Sedbergh till 1973 and Loretto a couple of years later, so I understand). Oh, how times have changed.....I think my fetish for school shorts started in March 1977, when I was 14, and hadn't really thought about shorts for a bit. But the school started cub scouts and I saw a rather large lad called Philip wearing grey school shorts, near the shoe lockers. I nearly had palputations. It was a Tuesday night and I had my piano lesson after "prep" or homework, and on the way down to the house after my lesson I casually looked around to see if cubs had finished. It had and there was Philip calling my name, saying he would walk with me. One of my biggest regrets is that I didn't take this situation further, but I was a weed in those days and, apart from commenting on how cold it was and how he must be feeling it in his shorts, I never bothered aboutit. Phil was a big land for 9 years old and had longs for school, so to see him in shorts was a real treat. A couple of other boys in the house were back in shorts for cubs but they didn't look quite as good as Philip. Still, at least I could get back to the house to my room mates. And one of those was a very severe bedwetter, with a latex draw sheet, rubber pillow and semi-transparent plastic mattress cover on his bed. Another wasted opportunity....

I really enjoyed your story, it's the grey vee neck jumpers that do it for me.

On the one hand I empathise with you having to wear short trousers, knee socks and t-bar sandals to school aged 13, as I too experienced being 13 and the only boy of that age sent to school dressed like that and it was purgatory. However I also think you thoroughly deserved it as I was the 'Paul Irvine' of my school, the boy whose parents simply didn't and never had allowed him long trousers. Age 13 1/2 and in the final year at my prep school I was the oldest boy at my school in short trousers by over two years but my parents simply were not interested, as far as they were concerned I was not old enough for longs and in any case I was still at 'junior' school and should still in their view be dressed to reflect this. It would have made my day if one of my tormentors had been put back into shorts, I was made to feel like it was my fault, as if there was anything in reality I could actually do about it and maybe experiencing being told they would have to wear shorts too might have made them think a little bit more what it was like being in my position. I doubt there were many other 13 year olds in 1982 who had yet to own their first pair of long trousers!

On the one hand I empathise with you having to wear short trousers, knee socks and t-bar sandals to school aged 13, as I too experienced being 13 and the only boy of that age sent to school dressed like that and it was purgatory. However I also think you thoroughly deserved it as I was the 'Paul Irvine' of my school, the boy whose parents simply didn't and never had allowed him long trousers. Age 13 1/2 and in the final year at my prep school I was the oldest boy at my school in short trousers by over two years but my parents simply were not interested, as far as they were concerned I was not old enough for longs and in any case I was still at 'junior' school and should still in their view be dressed to reflect this. It would have made my day if one of my tormentors had been put back into shorts, I was made to feel like it was my fault, as if there was anything in reality I could actually do about it and maybe experiencing being told they would have to wear shorts too might have made them think a little bit more what it was like being in my position. I doubt there were many other 13 year olds in 1982 who had yet to own their first pair of long trousers!

The school uniform for me in high school was shorts and long white socks in summer and grey trousers for the colder months of the year. This was the late 60s and early 70s.<br />
I have no sympathy for bullying anywhere, especially at school.

I feel you got all you deserved, your mother was quite right in the actions she took, and I would make her minister of discipline for schools. If I had my way all boys would be dressed in short grey trousers and knee socks until they had fininshed secondary education. You get no sympathy from me.

Thank you for sharing your experience. As a schoolboy of the same era, I fully understand and empathize with you. I was the only boy in my year to be in shorts and grey knee socks at primary school. When I went t the grammer school in 1972, shorts were not allowed. Although relieved to be in long trousers at last, I would not have minded continuing in shorts if say 20% of the other boys wore shorts. But to return into shorts at 13 and be the only boy would be mortifying. <br />
I understand the feelings you must have had and still do. I had long hair as was the fashion at the time. Had I gone to a barbers for a short boys haircut before the new school, I may have ob<x>jected but thought nothing of it. But my mother took me to her Ladies hairdressers for a trim. I had very fair hair that stood out. About 6 weeks into the new term, I was told to have my hair cut. My mother feeling I was picked on because my hair was so noticable by it's colour took me to a barbers for a very short back and sides. I had to go to school the next day unrecognizable and looking like a new boy. Just like no boy wore shorts, no boy had hair this short. Even though the hair grew long again after a year, I was never able to live this short haircut down.<br />
After a year, my hair was looking untidy and I actually wanted it cut short again but could never pluck up the courage to ask for this. At this time I also wanted to be back in short trousers and knee socks. I felt that short hair, shorts and knee socks were smarter.<br />
Now I realise that I have a fetish for these things and I suppose it comes from being made to be the only boy in shorts at primary school and the shock of that short haircut when no boy had short hair.

u mistook me,what i meant was it cant be that bad as wearing diapers,like babies n toddlers,its still a proper set of clothes.i duno but try looking urself in the mirror n ask,if u ready look ridiculous like that or not,without taking social bias into account,u might see it in a different light.just my thought.<br />
its better to leave ur boots when u dont need them,too cumbersome.

The cadet boots were collected by my mother and after that I was only allowed to wear them for official army cadet activities. Mum was also warned not to let me wear them back to school or I would have them confiscated for good. <br />
<br />
As far as I am aware girls back then pretty much wore the same uniform throughout their school years with the only change being one away from the school pinafore dress and a graduation to skirts. Being that I was a boy and went to an all boy’s school I have no idea whether girls go through similar rites of passage. My sister never spoke about it to me so I can't answer that question. <br />
<br />
Also I never said that a boy wore diapers to school I said that my situation would not have been much worse if I'd been forced back to school in diapers.

i still dont quite grasp how changing the type/length of ur trousers count as a rite of passage/graduation,or even why theres one.im also curious,since boys mark that change in outlook as crucial for their age,what do girls that age do?do they change any part of their dressing as a graduation,and do not go back to the way they formerly dressed?<br />
still,comparing that other boy wearing diapers sound rather exaggerated,afterall u dont go to school till ur potty trained.

so since ur discipline teacher confiscated ur boots,how did u attend the army cadets activities?

Yes I was in the army cadets and I think the boots came from an army surplus store in either Cheltenham or Gloucester, sorry, but I don't remember which.

I expect he was in the Army Cadets. Its curious how times changed between the 50s and the 60s. I went up to Grammar School at the age of eleven in 1953. The rules about uniform specified grey flannel trousers and blazer (optional). I wore grey shorts with my black blazer with black & white piping and the school crest on the pocket. A photograph of the whole school taken that year shows almost all the boys in the first and second years in shorts.<br />
I was one of the last still wearing shorts in my form at the age of thirteen.<br />
When I left the school in 1958 most first and second year boys still wore shorts and it must have been the 1960s which saw the move to trousers for almost all boys over the age of 6 or 7 years.

one curious question,where did u get the army boots?obviously u couldnt have been in the army

Hi fabrizzo and thanks for your comment. I would hazard a guess that you are not British by the way you mention "short pants" and that suggests to me that you are American. <br />
<br />
Please excuse me if I'm wrong, but if you do come from America then it's understandable that you would fail to see the social concepts that accompany a boy wearing a school uniform with short trousers in secondary school. <br />
<br />
The story that you read happened in the early 1970's and at that time there were very few, if any, boys that went from primary school up into a secondary school and continued to wear a primary school uniform i.e. with short trousers. The use of short trousers in secondary schools had all but died out in the mid to late 1960's, so a 1st year secondary school pupil in short trousers would be the focus for the school bullies. This is most likely because the bullies were so insecure in their own world. <br />
<br />
This was certainly the case for me because of my height. Even though I was in year two of secondary school, my size would have been that of an average ten year old. Which I see now many years on was probably my reason for bullying this younger boy who’d been forced to come to school in short trousers. Not that I saw it as bullying to start with.<br />
<br />
However, my insecurity was such that I used that boy’s misfortune to direct the bullying away from myself. My mother’s punishment in forcing me back into short trousers after I had already undergone the right of passage and earned my long trousers would have been akin to the lad I bullied turning up at school in diapers. <br />
<br />
Short pants, yes you’re right what’s wrong with a guy wearing short pants, but when you add in the social hierarchy in school and the fact that short pants were most definitely seen as belonging in the primary school then maybe you will understand how humiliating it would be for a boy that has already gone through the rite-of-passage and graduated to long trousers, to once again go back to school looking like a primary school boy. It wouldn’t have been much worse to go back to school in diapers.<br />
<br />
Similarly, t-bar sandals were a symbol of primary school and very few boys wore them beyond primary school. Boy’s who wore them in the first year of secondary school were again the focus for bullies, but take it from me, for a year two secondary school boy to wear them with short trousers makes for a very humiliating time at school.

what the heck's so laughable about the attire u wore?u were only 13 then,thats not old at all.they must be damned shallow to laugh at u for something i would not have considered a big freaking deal.u shdnt have done that either,but i guess u were negatively influenced by ur surroundings.it takes a sensible n firm mind to act rationally n not be blinded by the vices of society.bullying just continues the disgusting cycle n protects no one in the end.<br />
why is wearing short pants such a riotous deal to u boys?does gals have any attire which they might be embarassed about in a similar way?

What a great story and I have to say you brought it all upon yourself. As a boy who had two strict parents and who went to an equally strict school I can certainly empathise with you. I wore for school until just short of my 15th birthday and always at home even after getting longs for school. And the only way I was punished at home was a spanked bottom.