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My mom never whacked us with a rubba slippa. She preferred a hanger or a yardstick. I preferred getting hit by the yardstick. The hanger hurt like hell and the yardstick usually broke, cutting your lickings short.
Mr. Nitta, my 6th grade teacher, possessed a huge paddle although he rarely used it. When he did use it, it would be just one loud whack on the butt in front of the whole class. And you had to sign the paddle after your punishment. No girls ever got hit, only boys.
Off the subject, but talking about Mr. Nitta's class - one of the projects we had in Mr. Nitta's class was to put together an insect collection. We each had to collect a minimum of 20 different insects. I used a cardboard cigar box to house my collection. Jason Arakawa's dad constructed a wooden display case for Jason, complete with a glass top . . . sooooo show-off. I had accumulated quite a nice collection, but on the day before the project was due I still only had 19 insects. I saw a mosquito flying around on the window screen, and although I already had a mosquito I caught it. I labeled one "male" and the other "female" . . . soooooo smart, yeah. I got a C-.