We used to get a ruler across our fingers, and if you pulled your hand away or flinched, you got it again. This was in primary school.
In high school we didn't get physical punishment, just detention, lines or extra homework. We did get the wooden blackboard cleaner thrown across the room at us if we were talking.
If we were seen anywhere out of school even at the weekend with our school blazer on and not our felt hat complete with elastic under our chin, we'd get a detention!
It was like this but in blue. We were 14, 15, 16, at the time! I can just see it now! 
Don't talk to me about getting the cane! 
I "got the wack" so often, in the end it had absolutely no effect on me whatsoever! Towards the end I just took it as the school curriculum that every Monday morning I would be caned. It was a private boarding school in the early '60's. We were put into three "houses" with the best marks attained academically winning a coverted prize. Unfortunately fellow boarder and bosom pal Kipper - not his real name, was in the same house as me, so between us we pulled everybody else down, so out house never won! If you picked up three bad house marks or more per week, you'd "get the wack". Neither of us were any good at Latin which was where all the bad house points used to come from. It was a ridiculous system - they didn't offer help, they'd just cane you, to which you'd proudly display your "stripes" as you changed for bed. Dispite everything else - it was the best school I'd ever been to. It was a school you'd be proud of - I know that's a dirty word these days, but the school teachers really did care. There were nogrills - no 8' high gates. It was a school - not a prison. Some did well at Latin and carried on to become doctors, dentists and vets, but not me. I never lost out though. I've had a good life, working for the same insurance set-up in the City - London for forty-one years before taking retirement.
Unfortunately now you can't even raise your voice to a child, let alone a cane. If you misbehaved - and you did, you were caned. Simple as that. Now you've got an army of social workers, child pshchaitrists and God knows who else all jumping on the band waggon. Left to their own devices, most kids will progress normally, but if every time some highfaloutin anylist wants to know why little Johnny was kept in after hours, his prognosis is going to be negative.
One week just after I had joined the school, one of the hkids saw my a bit quiet in the playground. Like a fool, I told hime I was due to be caned on Monday. He gritted his teeth and shook his head.
"Christ, Woody, you're gonna scream! Blood's gonna run down the back of your legs "
When some kid asked me what it was like, I told him matron would pour vinegar on the backside to heal where the weals had cut into your legs! !!!
It shouldn't affect anybody negatively. You grew up fast in boarding school - very fast lol. If Sir liked his porridge with a touch of salt instead of sugar to bring out the full flavour, so did you, even if it made you want to throw up!
You were young adults. You'd never see a prefect in the library with a comic - he'd be reading the Telegraph or something.
You were never homesick. You enjoyed your end of term holidays, yes, loved your parents? Mmm... possibly - in an abstract sort of way, but you never actually missed them. That might sound strange - hurtful even, but you were all in the same boat, metaphorically - you all had carreer parents. I'd spent most of my life commuting between Cyprus and the UK where my late father worked overseas to put us through private school, and later I used to fly out to Burma to see him during the long school holidays, so being away from home was nothing.
The second you walked through those school doors, your fellow boarders became your brothers. We used to talk about our parents' respective jobs but there was no boasting. We all accepted our parents were that bit better off with properties in Golders Green and Hampstead.(arty London suburbs). It wasn't until we tried to get jobs of our own did we find we couldn't fly halfway across the world first-class, and we very quickly came down to earth with a bump! .
Junior school we got slapped on the back of the legs with a ruler. Boys got the cane and some male teacher used to slipper the girls on the bottom!!!!! good job I wasn't in his class.
In high school, I didn't get physical punishment, but emotional was just as bad, one **bleep** of a teacher. I don't think it damaged me in any way. The emotional and physical trauma at home was worse.
I was belted once, for not getting an algebra test right in secondary school. The teacher (maths Mr Chisholm) was magic as a rule and used to flick sixpennny bits to anyone who gave a really intelligent answer.
He so wanted for me to do well at maths, but I could not get my head round algebra. He belted me because he said I was capable of passing.
I gave up maths in 3rd year and when I used to meet him in the school I would always say 'you were a right sh*t for belting me then' (you could say that to him, very eccentric), and he would laugh.
My husband has an OU Maths Degree and reads weird books, and quotes bits to me and I want to die of boredom. Still cannoit do algebra. What's that all about a + b = some bleeding thing, nuts 
That must have made you feel a right knit oops, sorry, nit.
