In elementary school in the early 1960’s, I often was locked in a “quiet” room because I was frequently not the perfect little drone that incessant indoctrination required. And said room wasn’t padded, either. It was some kind of combination storage room and electrical distribution room full of large electrical distribution panels and dusty shelves full of old text books and other dusty old crap. I was frequently told when locked in said room that if my behavior didn’t improve I was likely headed to the electric chair. I suppose the electric panels were supposed to play on my imagination in combination with such admonitions.
However, I was a tough little kid, so that kind of nonsense didn’t make too much of an impression on me, even at that those tender ages, and I found the quiet storage room was actually rather pleasant compared to being in class. I had no trouble passing the time, since I merely disappeared into a delightful fantasy world of my own making.
I would have never occurred to me to complain to my parents about these punishments, since of course they would simply have added their own whippings to top off the earlier school punishments.
Ah, the days of yore of government education in the deep South in the golden olden days.
At least you didn’t get prankish and shut off all the school’s lights!