In high school I had a history teacher who made everyone buy and read a copy of “Masters of Deceit” by J. Edgar Hoover. We had long classroom discussions of the book and all of the things those evil commies were doing to undermine our society, and we had an essay test on the book in which we regurgitated Hoover’s paranoid ideas. This was in the early 1970s and the book had been mostly discredited by then, but we didn’t know that and willingly swallowed everything J. Edgar and our teacher said. At the time nobody was even slightly perturbed at this but in retrospect it seems very creepy.
I won’t say creepy, but definitely surreal and a moment that has influenced me ever since:
Senior English, high school, we were studying Shakespeare’s Scottish play. In order to impress upon us the difference between studying Shakespeare as drama and studying it as literature, our elderly teacher (Catherine Hume, bless her sainted soul) had us put our desks in a huge circle; she then pulled down the window shades and turned off the lights, then donned a large crocheted shawl, took a lighted candle in her hand and stepped into the middle of the circle of desks and performed Lady Macbeth’s soliloquy (“Out, out, damned spot!”) Anyone who knows the play knows that Lady Macbeth was utterly mad at this point; Mrs. Hume played it to the hilt. We were absolutely spellbound the entire time. To this day, I think of it as one of the biggest risks a teacher ever took – it could have been a complete disaster, but she was so good that she pulled it off beautifully. It was surreal, to be sure – but in my mind it was a triumph of high school teaching.
We had a really odd swimming teacher when I was in primary school (5-11 yrs old) who made the boys get changed at the side of the pool whilst the girls used the changing rooms. I recall it wasn’t so bad starting the lesson - partly because we started wearing our trunks under our clothes but also because we could change whilst the girls were out of the room. Afterwards though, lots of the girls would get out of the pool early and be changed and ready, watching us from the other side of the pool! It was odd at the time (early 80s) but would be out of the question now!
Also, I’ll never forget Mrs Protheroe. She was an ancient, stick-thin English and Music teacher at secondary school. Our lessons always followed the same format - she’d arrive about 10 minutes late with some errant kids from other classes in tow and proceed to yell at them for the rest of our lesson. Her tactic was always the same, they’d invariably be older than us so she’d try to humiliate them as much as she could - making them stand with their noses against the board or hold up books and suchlike. She would also be seen trotting round in her red stilletos after the Head, who she clearly had a real crush on. If not, she’s be in her silver Cirocco, applying bright red lipstick onto where her lips would be if she had any!
I had something very very similar occur to me. One of my favorite teachers, always very happy, loved the job, very hands on. Just a great great teacher. One day, it all changed. To start with her attendance was real spotty… just didn’t show and wouldn’t notify anybody, so there were never any subs. When she was there she was really really loopy. She never remember the assignments, she kind of rambled about whatever was on her mind. Finally after 1/2 a year she was removed for, what we were told were “personal reasons.” Turns out she passed away a few weeks later. She had a brain tumor which had effected her personality and was why she had gone crazy.
Sort of a sad story: here’s the ones I was thinking of as I was reading this thread–
In 9th grade, I had a teacher who had an assortment of trinkets up on his desk. One of which was a wind up rabbit. When we had any sort of study time or tests or anything… he would spend the entire time winding up the rabbit and watching it go on his desk. Over and over and over and over all period long.
Also 9th grade: In french class I had a substitute teacher who clearly didn’t get what he was supposed to be teaching us that day, and instead went into this whole speech about his home country of Cameroon… including singing native songs, and drumming on the tables. It was interesting, but a little odd.
Not one month later, I had him again. (Coincidentally, subbing for the rabit watcher). Again, clearly lost with the lesson plan laid out for him he launched into the EXACT SAME speech about his home country of Cameroon… same songs, same banging on the tables. Clearly- this was his shtick.
Not too long after this, again for french class. We had this same guy! Only this time he was absolutely lost. A> He didn’t understand the lesson plan B> he’d already given us his Cameroon lesson. So he gave us bible passages and told us to translate them into French. Our regular French teacher freaked out and I never saw him again. Strange guy.
Last but not least… my Junior year I took Physics. The teacher was a good guy but seriously burned out. He talked openly of the day he retired, how little teachers made, how much he hated coming in to school. He had no desire to teach beyond the bare minimum. Mostly he would tell us about how much vodka he used to drink when he was younger, and general stories of his life.
I understand I may have been the last straw on his retirement and forced him out early as I broke his doppler football the previous year on the last day of school. I heard he flipped out in a profanity laced tirade and blew from the classroom… he was gone not a few weeks later.
Hmm…
Well, there was the grade 3 teacher we had. Mostly I remember our music class, which involved us singing songs from a purple duotang she had given us at the beginning of the year while she played guitar. This was a Catholic school, so all the songs in the book revolved around Jesus… except one song, which was her favourite and we’d sing it every music lesson though we’d always rotate through the rest of the songs.
The song you ask? Hotel California.
I also distinctly remember her sending one of the other kids to stand outside in the hallway and wait for her, but she only told him outside. She stayed in the classroom and continued to teach, at least until we saw him go by the window. She took off running out the classroom and next thing we see is her flying past the window after him…
Grade 5 we had a teacher who had a nervous break down. How he taught us was simple. Math was ‘I want you to do this chapter, every other page, hand in Friday.’ That was it. If we asked him questions, he’d send us to the guy who knew the most and he’d try to teach us. I think I can trace my hatred of math back to this. French class, was him writing on the board in French and us taking notes. Not a word was spoken at all.
Before Christmas he left and we got a sub, who was with us for a few months (and found our book money/checks from September order of Scholastic tucked into the very back of a drawer, so none of us got our books. 
). She went on a vacation to Bermuda and we got another new sub for the rest of the year, but the first one brought us back the 5 whatever coins and fish magnets.
Grade 6 we had a teacher who had a reputation for being so nice, but then she got married the summer before we had her and she got bitchy (or so it seemed to me).
Not so much strange stuff for me.
I don’t remember anything traumatic from school but I do remeber one teacher who was my all time favorite. His name was mr. Smallwood which isn’t that special unless you know he was quite stereotypically gay. Anyway, though he did spend most of his time trying to teach us, in the inevitable times where we sat around “working” I would go to his desk and gossip about other students, teachers, school goings on, etc. At one point during the year one of my friends who had mr. S the same period told everyone her sister had been attacked in school and currently was in a coma. We were all understandibly sympathetic. It wasn’t untill I talked to mr. S that I found out he had called her parents to offer his condolences and found out she didn’t even have a sister :eek: Even after I dropped out later that year I would occasionally stop by his classroom and gossip with him. He rocked!
I thought I had a couple good stories but dang, some of these are doozies.
My friend went to a catholic school, and one of the nuns made the class play ‘concentration camp’. Everyone would stand, and you would come up with reasons someone would probably have gotten sent to the concentration camps by the nazis. If you were a victim you sat down.
My own is mild. An 8th grade English teacher would be talking about some literary work and stroll back and forth in the front of class. Sometimes he would slowly, deliberately walk over to you, look you in the eye, and step on your toes, challenging you to acknowledge the invasion in some way.
Zombie.