I can confirm the flatulence of nuns, even of senior level nuns. When I was about 12, my siblings and I went swimming with my aunt, a Reverend Mother. (She changed into and out of her swimming costume, a Victorian-era burkha-style ensemblage, in the holiday house,and walked down to the beach in a dressing gown, since someone is doubtless wondering).
On the way back, discreet but definite ecclesiastical fartage ensued.
I couldn’t say now. The issue made its way around class while I had her as a teacher (her comment: “please put that away until later”!!), but I have no idea even what year it was from. Judging by her age at the time (mid-late '30s in the mid 1980s…) I’d say it was some time in the mid '70s.
My (female) English teacher used to take me and a buddy to the pub and get us drunk, we’d hang out at her house drinking wine, and she once took us to London and paid for us to go to a dildo-show peepshow. When I flunked my English exam, she never spoke to me again.
I learned about six years ago, after the fact, that a science teacher at my old school had had a four-year affair with one of my classmates, starting from the summer between 8th and 9th grade. Apparently he resigned from his position when she graduated and moved abroad to be with her while she went to college. She dumped him about a month after the move. She told me about this over coffee while visiting.
Meh, if we’re including simply ‘eye-rollingly-bad’ teachers, I submit a college prof of mine. I was taking a class in screen lighting (Film major, doncha know). The first half of the symester was actual teaching (yay!) where we learned how to light for various effects, and what types of lights were used for what types of shots. Then something changed, and lord only knows what. The mid-terms were coming up, and there was a concept I didn’t quite understand. I noticed on the syllabus that the instructor had stated, “Hours by appointment.” So, after class I went to him and said, “I’m having a bit of trouble with (x). I know you have hours by appointment. Can I make an appointment to talk about this?”
He said to me, “No. If I had time outside of class, I’d be looking for more freelance jobs.”
It left me stunned. I managed to struggle through the mid-term, and then class got easier… Mainly because he just stopped teaching. Each class, he’d give us a film magazine with pictures from current films, and say, “Re-create the lighting in this scene.” Then he’d leave. The next week we’d watch our shoots from the magazines, he’d make disparaging comments, and give us that session’s magazine. Lather, rinse, deplete.
No, you’re not.
I had a literature professor who was a creepy old lecher, and he didn’t bother trying to hide it. He’d look down the girls’ shirts whenever he had the opportunity, especially if we’d go see him in his office (because he never answered questions after class, he told us to come to his posted office hours).
He also managed to make everything, in every novel, about sex. Everything. Candles? Penises. Especially if the wax was described as dripping. Pillows were boobs, of course, and any reference to lying down, or bending down, or crouching, was actually about sexual positions. so for our end-of-semester essay, which was worth about 50% of our final grade, most of the students in the class picked a sex-related topic. Sexual symbolism in this-or-that novel, changing social attitudes toward sex as shown in this-or-that novel, etc. Those smart enough to pick a sexy topic almost all got A’s. Yeah, he was inappropriate, but at least it gave us all an easy way to play him for a good grade.
He never got fired, though, as far as I know. Nobody ever complained about him.
The one we did get fired was the French literature professor who, instead of actually having us read a French novel and discuss it, brought in separatist propaganda and told us that immigrants were ruining the country (“country” being Quebec, in her mind). Considering that we were going to have exams at the end of the year on actual French literature, we weren’t really being adequately prepared. We complained, and she was canned.
Band name.
ducks and runs
You’re a douche
You just directly called another poster a douche in MPSIMS? Really?
And what, exactly, was douche-like of RachelChristine in that situation? It is not appropriate for a high school student to hit on his teacher, and it is doubly not appropriate to tap a teacher’s ass. Teacher-student sex is a two-way street sometimes, and that doesn’t make it any better from the perspective of the school, the district, the parents and the other students, or, in harassment cases like the above, the teacher.
Insults are not allowed outside the Pit, Alex_Dubinsky. Please do not do this again.
Huh?! What brought that on? Apparently she felt she was being harassed by a student and had him removed from her class, or at least that’s how I read it. What else should she have done?
ETA: Looks like this has already been addressed. Funny, no reply for 20 minutes, than, bang, three posts.
Where did you grow up? I grew up in the western suburbs of Chicago, and my junior high had a dance class like that (this would have been in the early 80’s), and I’ve heard vague rumors that the respected/creepy teacher was arrested for something unsavory.
Be careful…that guy give me the worst vibe I’ve gotten off anybody in this Thread.
I hope he does ever show up again.
And in southeasternmost NC, the 40-YO cross-country coach marries his 16-YO student, and the custodians also messed around
http://www.starnewsonline.com/article/20070620/NEWS/706200482
It’s not every day you hear a nun saying “fuck”, but my A Level English teacher was a nun and the book we were reading was a 20th century novel. She read the passage without flinching. Not at all inappropriate if you come to think of it. 
Let’s see…didn’t happen to me directly, but the HS creative writing/drama teacher was pretty blatant about looking down the shirt or up the skirt of a friend of mine. She was his teacher’s aid, and would take every opportunity to place his stuff on the floor so he could peek under the table. I believe he was fired years later for something similar.
I did however have a spanish teacher that had some interesting ideas. We were back after the summer and the (new) spanish teacher was going over some of the basics from the year before. She called on one of the jock-type guys and asked him how to say “I speak”…pretty basic stuff. When he had trouble remembering, she tilted her head back, positioned her hand as if she was holding something rod-like, and moved it back and forth towards her mouth. I’ve never forgotten “Hablo” again.
See, you just proved it. Nuns have no family, just God as their husbands. Your Aunt was an imposter. Lalalalalalala [fingers in ears] lalalalalalala! I can’t hear you! Next you’ll tell me that she has real hair under her veil and that she goes to the bathroom, too. Nope, just don’t believe it.
Wait a minute, if God has all those nuns as wives, is God a Mormon?
Ding ding ding. We have a winner. I’m sure we’re talking about the same ‘gentleman’.
If you have any specifics, or a link to a news story, I’d appreciate it if you could drop me a line. I know a few people who’d be interested (including my parents, who will be thrilled to know their money was well spent).
You can reach me at:
tvanmeir -at- gmail -dot- com