Dear Head Teacher,
How are you? You probably are very old now and have many grandchildren. Perhaps you have great grandchildren. I think at the time you thought you were doing your job. But were you really?
I know that you knew I did not have any consistent parents to keep me safe. When you would take your cane and strike me I could see the look in your eyes. I think you actually enjoyed it. The humiliation and fear that you gave me. The looks that the other students would show me were of fear and pain.
I never had anyone that I could tell, so you kept at it and made sure that every day, I received another whack with your cane.
I remember that you would cane me for being late. Even if I was only a few minutes late you would cane me. You never once stopped to ask why I would have been late. Did it ever occur to you that I was up all night while my grandparents argued, by the time I would fall asleep it was time to get up again. This would continue on and repeat and you would just continue to cane me.
I remember because I hated being caned so much my only pleasure was walking along the path and feeding the birds and picking flowers. I wish that instead of caning me you would have stopped to talk to me and get to know me. Perhaps you could have then discovered what was happening in my life. I could have explained to you that I was being abused by those horrible boys and you could have helped me.
But instead you hit me. You abused me. You caned me every day. You only did it because you knew I did not have a mum and dad at home that would have kept me safe. You enjoyed every sadistic whack of the cane. You probably even smiled inside knowing that you were hurting me. What does hitting a child accomplish. Nothing!
So when you go to sleep tonight, or forever remember this.
You were a horrible despicable person and a sorry excuse for a head teacher.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Regards,
Dorothy Maude