Miss Brooks, the new English teacher, might have been young and very pretty, but it was a serious mistake to underestimate her. Jasmine - the class comedian - could not resist making just that error.
"I bet Jas will wind up the new mistress!" one of the girls giggled to another as they waited for Miss Brooks to arrive for her first class.
"I'm sure she will. Miss B looks as though she should be sitting with us, not teaching us. Talk about 'fresh out of the box'..." She got no further, as at that moment the new teacher swept into the room. None of the girls stood up. Miss Brooks walked up to the blackboard and wrote her name on it.
"Nice handwriting," someone whispered. There was a titter from her neighbours.
Miss Brooks turned to face the class.
"Good morning. I am Miss Brooks. In future, when I walk in to the room, you will all stand up to show respect."
"I've got a corn on my big toe, Miss. It hurts to stand. Can I just sort of bob up and down?" Jasmine had started. A snigger ran around the room.
"What's your name, young lady?"
"Jasmine, Miss. My friends call me 'Fragrant'." More giggles.
"Do they now? What's your surname?"
"Smithers, Miss, but you can call me 'Fragrant' too, if you like." More snorts of concealed mirth.
"No thank you. You'll be 'Miss Smithers' if I need to address you."
"That's rather formal, isn't it, Miss? I thought blondes were supposed to be easy going...well, 'easy' anyway," she added after a carefully stage-managed pause. Now there was outright laughter.
Miss Brooks said nothing. She simply opened the Gladstone bag she had been carrying, rummaged in it, and pulled out one of the wickedest-looking canes the girls had ever seen. If it wasn't a Dragon, it was certainly a very senior 'Senior'. There was a collective gasp from the girls as Miss Brooks flexed it.
"I always find it useful to stamp my authority on a class when I first teach it. Miss Smithers, perhaps you will be kind enough to step up here, lower your pants, raise your skirt, and bend over. You may grasp the edge of that shelf."
Jasmine gulped and licked her lips as she walked unsteadily to the front of the class. She knew her bluff had been called. Reluctantly, she did as Miss Brooks had commanded, feeling the rattan cool against her backside as the teacher took aim. She howled as the first of six swipes wrapped itself across her bare bottom, her knuckles white as she tried to endure the blazing sting, horribly aware that the class was watching in awe as the stripes etched themselves one by one across her smooth cheeks.
Miss Brooks had made her point.
Source not known
Image from Rearwarmer
Next illustrated story here