The sunlight poured straight into the loud, hot and stifling classroom where I sat, waiting for the usual slam of textbooks on the almost archaic wooden table. Back and forth, back and forth. I rocked the chair as it creaked loudly against the pressure of my bottom. My hair bore two oily pigtails, which had been lubricated this morning, involving long fingernails digging roughly into my scalp and plenty of hair pulling, which I'm sure my Matron loved.

‘Torture’ was her middle name. The kids in our dormitory called her that! Really I’m not kidding! My sister said it was hell here, but when have I ever listened to her? Well now, I'm facing dire consequences...

Miss Crook’s voice drawled on in a perfect French accent as she spoke unrecognizable words. She was supposedly our French teacher although half the time we learnt nothing. What we did get though, was smelly breath as she leaned in close to speak and showers of spit as she shouted at Raphael, the plump boy at the back. Jeez, I don’t think the woman ever brushes her teeth! I was glad I’d taken the back row as my ‘all year round’ companion. I would be too far away to smell the horrible stench and eye the small hairs on her lip that were almost forming a moustache.

“Lesson One. Je m’appelle…!” The blackboard squeaked painfully as she pressed the white chalk against it, while the class tried to ignore her heavy scrutiny, copying the title instead.

“Do you know what that means, my little dearies?” As she said this, her spherical spectacles slid down her sweaty, porous nose and her eyes examined the class with pure hatred through her murky brown eyes, her gaze falling on me.

“Um… does it mean…’This is an apple’…?” I stared nervously back at her; my hands clenched and unclenched, my feet moving about nervously under the table.

Miss Crook’s face turned dark as the class erupted into a fit of uncontrollable laughter even though they probably didn’t even know what it meant themselves! Just sitting there, head drooped down, tears stung my eyes and a burning sensation filled my face
“APPLE?”, she bellowed, unable to believe the words that had rolled out of my mouth. Miss Crooks suddenly whipped around, searching for something.

“Where is it? Where is that stupid thing?” Muttering to herself, she knocked down a pile of dusty textbooks onto the concrete floor, while hurriedly looking for something… I knew what it was. However, I was just too scared to believe that this was happening on the first day! I’d only come back from my fantastic holiday yesterday and already, by tonight, I would have a bruise!

“Aha.” As she said this, a 30cm ruler emerged from behind the cupboard, held by Miss Crooks’ bony, white fingers.

‘Come on then girl, you know the drill. Two for saying the wrong answer, five for back chatting, ten for misbehavior and so on. Come on, I really haven’t got all day!”

I walked timidly to the front of the class, every step taking me closer to the dreaded weapon that could inflict pain as worse as a burn or a paper cut.

“Hands out first and then if you cry out, it will be your bottom. Understood?”

I nodded stiffly, trying to hide any signs of panic that could earn me another beating! Miss Crooks’ bony arms lifted into the air with the wooden weapon; as it came down, my eyes squeezed shut and I bit my tongue to help me get through the pain.

SLAP!

The ruler came down hard, harder than Miss Crooks intended it to, but I knew she wouldn’t pity me. Instead, she would relish the moment.
Unfortunately, I cried out in agony, receiving not one but two more whips on my buttocks. I couldn’t even walk to my seat as numbness took over my legs however I managed to somehow wobble my way through.

“That’s it for today, class. Find out what Je m’appelle means and DO NOT write down apple!”

The school bell rang as a crowd of pupils ranging from the ages of five to twelve, ran out of their classrooms into the sweltering playground.
Hannah, my best friend, helped me up as I limped outside, one arm around her shoulder for support.

More than anything, I was worried about how I would sit down during the Reading class this afternoon. Mrs. Evans, our librarian, was an extremely genuine and caring woman, but the problem was, she was on maternity leave. So, that left us with no one but Mr. Fernandez. Due to the fact that he was the male version of Miss Crooks, I’m sure no one would like to have a lesson with HIM! Especially not me! Not in this condition anyway!