And sometimes it extends beyond high school years. Not fun for any involved.
Add me to the list wondering if it was a bunsen burner in the wrong place or if someone swiped a crock pot from Home Ec that’s caused the boiling.
You drink to remember?
Well, damn. Had I known you were still in high school, I would have been more lenient with you.
Sure, why not? May not be effective but I am building up some emperical evidence on the matter.
Lenient with my Lib? That somehow implies your mewling has had some impact.
You’re so mean to my.
That was actually pretty good. I didn’t get it for a few moments.
I’ll admit to curiousity about what this is all about–Great One (and you don’t know how difficult that was to type), you’ve had 24 hours to get a grip, so please give us details. We who live vicarious lives need to know.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but this is the funniest thing I’ve read today.
Don’t you remember those lyrics from Hotel California?
How they drink in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some drink to remember, some drink to forget
If the OP isn’t going to tell what this teacher supposedly did, I’m just going to assume that TGO probably deserved it.
Key lime please.
Not that they’re not an asset to the world, but, well, we survived several million years without them…
Um, it’s DANCE, not DRINK.
You know what really makes me frothing mad? Those two hot women in the Char-Broil commercial. You know, the one where the guy is walking his grill in the park and the two hotties show up and invite him to a party? Why can’t they be here with ME? It makes me so angry that they aren’t!
And Guin? I’m pretty sure Ino knows the correct lyrics. 'Twas a joke, girl.
You saying I was whooshed?
Oh, I’ve been whooshed! I think I shall take 24 hours to reevaluate my life!
I would never say such a horrid thing. And I’m insulted you think I am of such low class as to do such a thing.
Sorry about not providing details yet…my stupid computer freaked out (hmmm…sounds like another thread) and all I"ve been able to do is simmer for awhile…well…here goes:
Let me explain what we’ve been doing in history class lately. My teacher instead of actually teaching, decided to have us “teach our classmates” meaning we had to do the work and come up with stupid lessons as well as quizes. A good idea in theory but when you have to visit 10 history “stations” and take 10 quizes in…oh…about a week, you freak a little.
This is not what I’m mad about.
AFter the 7 alloted days, this teacher decided that instead of writing his own test over all 11 sections (me and my partner had to do one as well–yes I can count) that he’d use questions from our quizes. So he had each group hand in 10 questions from their quizes and stations.
This also is not what I’m mad about.
My partner (a very sweet girl) went around to each of the groups and had them tell her which questions they had turned in. She then typed them out and gave them to me and a couple of other friends (she’s not that nice–I think she had the kids she’s teaching to type do it 
). So then of course I, like a good student, procrastinated a bit but ended up studying for over an hour (during other classes like teacher aid, I’ll admit). But of course this teacher has another class who also turned in a whole bunch of questions…and he likes them better than us.
And this is where I started to get mad.
The other class took the test the period before ours and while passing each other in the hallway we exchanged news about English class and the history test, which they claimed was very easy. That is, very easy for them.
It turns out (I asked one of my friends from the other class afterwards) that almost every single question on the history test was word for word questions that they had turned in. And so the only people who actually did well in our class were the ones who got cheat notes from the earlier class (well, and this one history buff). I got an 85%.
That is NOT what I’m mad about.
The idiot, as my history teacher shall be called, was swamped with objections. He willingly changed this one question about who colonized SE Asia (France, but he said Britian was ok–I don’t think so, Britian colonized/took control of India for awhile). Consequently, I had gotten that question right the first time.
You must understand that I was not upset about my grade and so was trying to get a higher grade by whining (I hate whiners almost as much as the idiot). I thought one question was very unfair:
Q: What plan specifically helped increase industry in China?
The question wasn’t unfair, but his answer was. I put down “the Five Year Plan” while the “real” (derisive snort inserted here) answer was “the Great Leap Forward.” I raised my hand to try and make my case to him. He called on me, and as soon as I get to my third word, he figured out what I was talking about and started to talk, trying to drown me out. WHAT KIND OF IDIOT TEACHER DOES THAT?!!!?! My voice raised in retaliation. His rose as well.
Pretty soon, I was basically yelling at him, yet he continued to ignore me.
Just to let you know, my defense was this (you’ll have to imagine the increase in volume):
“The five year plan was To Increase PRoduction IN AGRiculture and INDUstry WHIle THe FIVE YEar PLAn WAS TO MODERNIZE CHINA!!!”
His whole argument was based on the fact that he had said only “industry” and not agriculture. After that yelling bout I shut up and he had one last little gem to pile upon me:
“I don’t see what your problem is. You guys are the ones who gave the questions to me.”
The inner demons within me rose to breaking level.
To my left I heard a friend say very quietly, “From the other class.”
My search for an appropriate retort was over. Very loudly, I said “Yeah…FROM THE OTHER CLASS!!!”
I’ve never seen anyones cheek twitch before.
My history teacher burst out in anger, “[Great One] say, ‘I apologize…’” I opened my mouth (I knew I somewhat deserved it) “…For my snotty attitude.”
The room got very, very quiet.
I was so made I could no longer think. Ever read the Redwall series? My eyes must’ve been blood red.
In a very sarcastic and very loud voice I said “I aplogize for my snotty attitude.” I can’t believe I actually said it. The idiot then leaned over to someone sitting in the front row and said (very loudly so I couldn’t miss it) “[The Great One] says it, but [The Great One] doesn’t really mean it.” No kidding, retard. I sarcastically, and of course very loudly, said “I know.” A sad retort.
But boy, if looks (and tone of voice) could kill, there wouldn’t be any pieces left.
So there you have it…my BBQ story. The idiot is merely pretending nothing happened. I kept hoping he’d attack me (he seemed almost ready to) so I could whack him in his big, fat pudgy stomache with my history book and get away with it. I guess what makes me the most mad now (not earlier) is the fact that I didn’t insult him any further. At lunch one of my friends said, “Why didn’t you say, 'I apologize for YOUR snotty attitude.”
I could’ve kicked myself.
Yeeha! Sorry it’s so long.
. . . As the bishop said to the chorus girl.
[Sorry, couldn’t resist]