Why go to the woodshed?

[Alpo]

Guy on another board was talking about how he had his woodshed full - he was ready for winter.

 

The term woodshed made me think of the Andy Griffith episode with the spoiled kid, and Andy offered the father the use of the woodshed behind the sheriff's office.

 

And that got me to thinking - if you're going to whoop your kid why take him to the woodshed?

 

I had always assumed, I suppose, that there would be switches. And that's what you going to light the boy up with.

 

But the wood shed should have dry wood-seasoned - ready for burning. A switch is green wood. Also it is thin and flexible. It just hasn't seem like it would be something you would want to put in the fireplace. Maybe use it for kindling, if it was dry. But it needs to be green so it'll swing better. So it makes no sense to have a switch in the wood shed.

 

So why take him to the woodshed?

 

Thoughts?

[Marshal Mo Hare, SASS #45984]

Not a switch….

[Stump Water]

Because in the 19th century south, where the phrase originated, corporal punishment wasn't meted out in public... in front of the rest of the kids/family.

 

On one grandparents side the threat was, "I hope we won't need to take a trip to the garage."  The garage being a low shed where the tractor and other farm machinery was kept.

 

On the other grandparents side it was "The coal bin".

 

On the rare occasion I got my but beat we didn't go anywhere.  Dad used his hand and did it right where I stood.

[J-BAR #18287]

A split of kindling is as effective as a wood ruler.

 

We didn't have a woodshed but Dad wore a belt.

[Cypress Sun]

In woodsheds....no one can hear you scream.

[Hardpan Curmudgeon SASS #8967]

Growing up in Texas (1950's - 1960's) corporal punishment was till practiced in public schools; something of which I had first-hand knowledge and indelible memories.  

 

First experience was weird.  We'd moved from Port Isabel, on the coast, to Waco, mid school year of third grade (1959 - 1960).  An hour into my first day in the "new" school, the teacher wrote a long division problem on the blackboard and instructed me to work out the answer in front of the class.  Well, evidently, they had a different curriculum schedule in the "new" district - the Waco kids had been working on long division for at least a couple of weeks, but we had not yet been subjected to the misery in the PI school.

 

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I don't know how to do this.  We haven't studied it yet at my old school..." I explained.

 

Well, the teacher immediately grabbed me by the collar, dragged me to her desk, had me lean over that desk, procured a paddle from somewhere, and in front of the entire class (some shocked, some delighted!) proceeded to whomp my bottom in a most impressive manner.  "I'LL teach YOU how to do long division!"  Well, although I certainly did not agree with her methodology, I will admit that I did experience an extremely strong desire to learn long division as expeditiously as humanly possible.  And, as a matter of fact, that memory has popped into my head with every long division problem I've encountered since then.  

 

There were other applications ove the years, but my LAST such experience was springtime, 1967, in my sophomore year of high school in Dallas.  Just happened to be Carter High, the setting of the movie by the same name, but twenty-two years earlier.

 

Anyway, there was a rule that when we finished our lunch, we were to clear out of the cafeteria - no loitering!  But there wasn't really anyplace else to go; just wander about the campus, outdoors.  So one day, I found myself behind the gym as a spectator to a sprited game of "penny pitching."  In the unlikely event that there may be someone somewhere not familiar with the activity, the participants stand behind a line - real or imaginary - and pitch pennies toward a wall.  Whoever has their penny stop nearest the wall wins all the pennies!  Anyway, on this particular day, the game was interrupted by the untimely arrival of Mr Anderson, the God-fearing Vice Principal.

 

Gambling!  He had caught a bunch of kids red-handed, GAMBLING on school property!  Wow, the dressing down he gave us (mind you, I was but a spectator - too broke to be a participant) was epic!  And he declared that if he EVER caught us pitching pennies again, there would be Hell to pay!

 

Not surprisingly, the very next day, the same gang of miscreants (and spectators) were again assembled behind the gym when Mr Anderson hove into view from the same direction as the previous day.  But the players were NOT pitching pennies, nosiree Bob!  They were pitching NICKELS!  And this one burly football player had just lost his last nickel, which precipitated a very untimely outburst of really bad words.  Just as the Pious Mister Anderson rounded the corner.

 

HORRORS!  Not only were these Children of Satan again GAMBLING (it evidently did not matter that he had previously specified there would be no more penny pitching, and these were nickels!), but they had actually raised the stakes and augmented the sin with PROFANITY!

 

Needless to say, the dressing-down reached a new level.  And the more he pontificated, the angrier he became.  Finally, he reached a point where he could only splutter, point toward the administration building, and order us to "MARCH!"  We did.  And upon arrivial, we were instructed to line up along on wall in the hallway.  As I recall, there were nine of us - gamblers and participants alike - and I was number three.

 

He took the first kid into his office; moments later, we could hear the loud *SMACK!* of the "board of education" being applied multiple times - five, if memory serves.  The door opened, the victim was instructed to start a line on the other side of the hallway.  When my turn came, Mr Anderson was not impressed at all with my claim of being only an innocent bystander; obviously, "guilt by association" is a real thing!  So, I received my five whacks, then fell in across the hall.

 

Unfortunately for those who followed, for some unfathomable reason, with each successive reprobate Mr Anderson's anger waxed.  And with his increased acrimony, he found additional strength to deliver the blows.  Indeed, the last two strapping football player types exited his office with tears the size of road apples streaming down their cheeks and rubbing their butts.

 

As a final point, the red-faced and by now exhuasted VP delivered one last truncated lecture, then ordered us off to class and retreated to his office - where he slammed the door and most likely settled in for well-deserved nap.

 

And THAT was my last personal experience with "woodshed justice."   

 

 

                   

 

 

 

 

Edited October 15, 2025 by Hardpan Curmudgeon SASS #8967

[Cold Lake Kid, SASS # 51474]

My school, in Northern Alberta, (Early 1950's) seemed to attract "teachers" who couldn't make a go of it in the more "southernly" school districts.

They seemed to rely on the strap to beat knowledge into their students, since they didn't seem to be able to get through to them.

It may have been great fun for some of them: that was until one kid went home with her inside of her wrists bruised and swollen, with damaged veins, necessitating a trip to the clinic for treatments.

A complaint to the local authorities by her parents seemed to go nowhere, until one of her relations paid the "teacher" a visit.

Another type of lesson was taught and learned: Don't try that with FN or Metis students.

 

Edited October 15, 2025 by Cold Lake Kid, SASS # 51474

[Forty Rod SASS 3935]

3 hours ago, J-BAR #18287 said:

A split of kindling is as effective as a wood ruler.

 

We didn't have a woodshed but Dad wore a belt.

The most terrifying phrase in my young life was when Dad handed me his pocket knife and told my to "go out there and cut me a willow switch."

 

Wood shed?  No, we had a huge basement where no one could hear me.

 

To be honest, though, Dad only used a switch on me twice....and I think he "pulled his punches" both times.

 

Edited October 15, 2025 by Forty Rod SASS 3935

[Cowtown Scout, SASS #53540 L]

Mom was the one that utilized the BELT even though she did not wear one.    It was never good when she invoked your full name including middle name.  

[Blackwater 53393]

Only ever received one paddling in school! That resulted in another one when I got home!

 

There was one assistant principal who thought that I was fair game for his meanness. He was dismissed the end of that year for being unfit and abusing punishment.

 

He was a little banty rooster of a guy and he tried to bully lots of students.  He grabbed me one day and tried to make me go to his office, telling me that he was going to paddle me for having my shirt tail out, (it was against the dress code) but I was wearing a knit shirt that was not meant to be tucked in. I calmly told him that if he thought that he’d get away with paddling me, he’d better talk to the principal first.  When he asked me why, I explained that if he padded me, he’d better talk would have to face “my old man” and that he wasn’t equipped to deal with that!

 

He asked the principal about it as we walked into the office.  The principal laughed and told him that there was nothing wrong with my shirt and then he said, “If you paddle him for that, you’d better plan on spending a night or two in jail!”

 

Little man started to question the principal and he just laughed. “His dad is a criminal court officer and will discipline him if he deserves it, but if he doesn’t deserve it, that man will discipline YOU!!”

 

Dad would beat the devil out of me if I was wrong, but if I was right, he’d more than stand up for me!

 

Every new school I went to, he’d take me to see the principal on the first day. He’d introduce himself and me and then he’d say this, exactly! “This is my boy! If he gets outta line, you bust his ass! Then you call me and when he gets home, I’ll give him double what he gets from you!”

 

I went to nine different schools before I graduated high school. I heard that speech nine times! 
 

He came to the school one time! He never had to go a second time and other than that one incident, I was treated fairly!  I didn’t get a paddling that day. The day I DID, he wore my ass out that evening!!

 

The “WOODSHED” is where musicians go when they’re working on a new song!

[Forty Rod SASS 3935]

3 hours ago, Cowtown Scout, SASS #53540 L said:

Mom was the one that utilized the BELT even though she did not wear one.    It was never good when she invoked your full name including middle name.  

My Mom had a secret.  She'd just stand there slumping over with a tear in her eye and sadness all over her face and say "I am SO disappointed in you."

 

She never scolded. spanked, punished us in any way....just tore my heart out with a sad look and a tear.

[J-BAR #18287]

For me it was mom saying, "Wait until your father gets home."

 

Scary stuff.  As well as prophetic.

[Alpo]

1 hour ago, Forty Rod SASS 3935 said:

My Mom had a secret.  She'd just stand there slumping over with a tear in her eye and sadness all over her face and say "I am SO disappointed in you."

 

She never scolded. spanked, punished us in any way....just tore my heart out with a sad look and a tear.

Mama told me about a woman done that.

 

We had like a daycare, a nursery school, at church. The little kids was in there during church, so they weren't disturbing the service.

 

One day we have been doing some serious hellraising back there at the daycare, and Mama had explained to us that she was going to tear our butts up when she got us back to the house. And this other woman was talking to her kid who had been part of hellraising.

 

She was squatting down so they were face to face to each other, and she was telling him, "Mama is so disappointed in you. Mama knows you know better than this. Mama is just so disappointed".

 

Mama told me that as far as she knew that woman never hit her kid. And he growed up to be a fairly decent person. "Mama is just so disappointed in you."

[Pat Riot]

No woodsheds for me. 
 

I recall being paddled several times and slapped twice by teachers and principals in elementary and middle school. 
Paddlings were usually done in the hall or the principal’s office.

I was an ornery kid. 
I was slapped once in third grade over my insistence that I needed a picture of an octopus. The teacher kept saying “What do think an octopus looks like?” Over and over again. As she was away I mumbled something about her being hardheaded and WHAM! She knocked me out of my chair then drug me to the hall for a paddling. The principal heard the ruckus and came out and intervened. It was a small school. I am pretty sure the teacher was reprimanded for her actions. 
The second slapping was in 6th grade English class. My teacher had the nickname of “Posey”. I don’t know where this nickname came from, but she had it when my Dad was in her classes years before. I was told that if you called her this name that she would flip out. 
That rumor was true. 
I was having a really bad day. Ms Smith (not her real name) was having us take a quiz. I raised my hand to ask a question and she came over. I asked my question and she, apparently having a bad day too, answered me in a way that ticked me off. I mumbled the word “Posey” along with my frustration about not understanding whet I was supposed to do with this question and WHAM! She slapped me in the neck and the next thing I knew I was on the floor and she was coming around the aisle to slap me again and I threw my hand up to block her blow and knocked glasses off. 
She ran out of the room and I got up and took my seat again. Not one person in my class made a sound. It was eerily quiet when The principal and Ms Smith came into the room. Ms Smith was crying. The Principal was not. 
I was escorted to the office and interrogated and sent home. I didn’t tell my Mon anything. My Dad was away in prison so no wrath from him. 
I thought about this for hours (probably minutes) when I went to bed. I decided I wasn’t hoping to allow Ms Smith to be punished in my behalf. 
The next day I was called to the office during morning announcements. 
when I got to the office my Mom was there. Bummer! She knew…

Long story short I fell on my sword and told the principal that I called Ms Smith a name knowing full well she would react badly. I apologized to Ms Smith for causing her such trepidation and I asked Mr Principal to let her slide. 
The principal agreed, Ms Smith smiled and apologized again.
Much to my surprise my Mom went off on Ms Smith for a little while, but in the end she said “I understand that you were upset, but if you ever touch my son again I will see that you are fired!”

And that was that. 
When  we were done I was sent to class. For the next two days I was badgered by everyone wanting to know what happened. I told everyone to mind their own business and to quit bugging me about it. People eventually forgot about it. 
 

 

[Eyesa Horg]

Rulers across the knuckles in my experiences! A couple times the Principal drove me home to waiting parents. Not good! Got the "strap". Learned early on that quicker you cry, the sooner the punishment ended!! No wonder I'm getting arthritis in my knuckles 🤣.

[Rip Snorter]

I don't recall hitting in public school except by one or two of the gym teachers, used sparingly on glandular barbarians.  Release time instruction was different - Sister Mary Elephant lived.  Public schools through '62.

[Eyesa Horg]

When I was in junior high school, the French teacher would stand in the hall between classes with a bull whip. God help you if he caught you running in the hall. Crrraaack!!

[Red Eye Jim]

My freshman high school science teacher was Mr. Rapp.  He had 2 boards.  A smaller one about 18" long and about 6" wide made out of pine that he used most of the time with a mild smack that got you to pay attention, and then a much larger one made out of oak that with "RAPP" engraved backwards so, in theory, his name could be read on your butt if he hit hard enough. Wes Orland was a 6' 400 lb. delinquent that was in his 3rd year of taking this class, and had a knack for not wanting to pay attention in class.  One day Mr. Rapp finally had enough and when Wes actually challenged him to hit him with the big board, Mr. Rapp took him up on it.  Hit him so hard, it picked him up a good 4-5 inches off the ground, broke the board in question.  Apparently, Rapp was readable for months.  Shortly after that incident, all the paddle boards around school were no longer seen in the classrooms and Mr. Rapp had to transfer out of the district at the end of that year, despite being one of most popular teachers in the district.  We still had him back as our commencement speaker when we graduated though.

[Dantankerous]

17 hours ago, Cowtown Scout, SASS #53540 L said:

Mom was the one that utilized the BELT even though she did not wear one.    It was never good when she invoked your full name including middle name.  

My mom would get so mad at my brother she'd accidentally call him by MY full name when getting ready to lose her cool with him. 

 

I always thought, "NOW what did I do?" when I heard mom getting ready to whip my always deserving brother. And little psycho he was, he'd just laugh.

 

By association I WOULD get in trouble when dad would get home just cause he figured I was somehow part of mom's bad day. 

 

I think I now drink alcohol because of my brother. 😁

[Forty Rod SASS 3935]

14 hours ago, Rip Snorter said:

I don't recall hitting in public school except by one or two of the gym teachers, used sparingly on glandular barbarians.  Release time instruction was different - Sister Mary Elephant lived.  Public schools through '62.

Was she related in any way to Sister Mary Dracula?  I never went to a parochial school but I had a friend in college who attended a Catholic school and told me about her.  Said she was tall and very slightly built and slapped some of the boys around.  He also told me of the day she slapped him and he slapped her back.  She apparently beat the stuffing out of him and he swore that after nine years he still woke up shaking after nightmares of her.

 

Must not have hurt him too much.  He retired from the Air Force as a Brigadier General.

Edited October 17, 2025 by Forty Rod SASS 3935

[watab kid]

growing up i heard A LOT ABOUT THE WOODSHED AND THE BELT, but  switch was the implement - a stick that held the ballon at the local fair , it left welts on the back of your legs and only employed on the couple really rare occasions i remember , we didnt have a woodshed just the woodpile - we went there to retriev4e wood , we did burn a lot of wood in the fireplaces , 

 

i think the WOOD SHED  got overused over time , but most likely because it became a symbol of misbehavior - there was tjhat boys reformatory that i got threatened with as well , that too i think was way more verbal than an actual threat , 

[Rooster Ron Wayne]

Drowned out the sound.

[Jiminy Cricket]

I can't tell you how many times I've been spanked, with a switch, paddle, belt, or hand, but it was a lot.  Mom's favorite tool was a wooden spoon.  Dad's, a switch I had to go get myself, and the principal's was a wooden paddle with 6 holes drilled in it.  Our hose had the policy of "If you get a spanking from someone, anyone, while dad's away, you get another when dad gets back.  

 

I never heard of the woodshed until I joined the USMC.  In bootcamp, that was a common threat that I didn't understand but I got the gist.  I always thought it was what Adults did when they had a disagreement and didn't want the outcome to be public knowledge.

 

Regards,

Cricket

[watab kid]

the nuns in catholic school liked the ruler but i didnt get much of that as in school i behaved , i agree with rooster here - out of sight and hearing for the most part , it goes back long before my 3/4 century of life so far ,