That was my third grade teacher. We had to write some sentences for science using the terms we had learned, all related to extinction. So, I used the dodo, the guagga (type of zebra), sea cow, and some other extinct bird, instead of the usual dinasaurs. All written in Spanish, of course.
She took a cheap Spanish dictionary (not the almighty, all containing Diccionario de la Real Academia Española), searched for the animals, and when she couldn’t find the definition, she said I was inventing the animals
During my first year of college I worked as a bartender a couple nights a week at a tavern that was owned and operated by my French professor. On the first test that I took in his class (admittedly I was not properly prepared) he wrote “Don’t quit your night job!”
I was in the homecoming queen court my senior year, along with four other girls. It was an odd year for court–no cheerleaders, none of the “It” girls made it, etc. Who knows? Anyway, out of the five of us, four (including myself) were out-of-district transfers, meaning that we lived in the hoodier areas but took extra classes in order to attend this relatively safer and better school. A friend of mine was in math class listening to the teacher (who happened to supervise the homecoming parade) talk to another teacher about the court.
“Look at these adresses,” she sniffed. “Let’s just hope our Amy wins it.”
The crazy part is I’d taken her class the year before and done really well in it, I never knew I was an undesirable in her eyes. That stung. And for the record, Amy didn’t win it. Hah! Suck on that, you snobby bitch!
My sixth grade math teacher told me on the first day of school that I’d never be able to do math, since I was publishing poetry. Since I was so obviously a right brain sort of person, she’d understand that I was awful at math and science. I went on to ace every math class I took until college Diff Eq. I’m an undergrad in Chem Eng and Philosophy.
Thus began my hatred of the right brain - left brain theory. (I know, I know, that’s not how it works. People can and do use both sides of their brain. She was just an idiot.)
The 2nd year of chemistry in my high school was the easiest of the upper-level sciences, and thus was filled with juniors, mostly males, who wanted the easiest way out. I took biology by junior year, and decided to take chemistry my senior year. It was awful. The students were loud and impudent to our teacher, one of the sweetest in the school who never says anything unkind. Toward the end of the year, when things were at their worst, one of the two other seniors in the class said, jokingly, “Mrs. Pitts, are we the worst Chemistry 2 class you’ve ever had?” She looked up with a straight face and nodded.
That wasn’t necessarily a personal insult, though. Earlier this year I was talking with one of my biology professors who has taken an interest in my graduate school plans. Now, I know that sometimes I seem a little ditzy. But when he asked what my GPA was, and I said 4.0, he didn’t have to say, “YOU? really? Are you sure?”
Honors English 10, this year. My teacher asked which project was mine, and I told her that mine was the one with my name by it. She responded to this with, “You should hope you never need extra points because I wouldn’t want to give extra points to a smart alec like you.”
I had a teacher at intermediate (i think that’s the same as junior high) hated me with a passion. I was “the naughtiest girl in the class” and she spent all day every day telling me this (I wasn’t that bad really I just had verbal diorrhea sp?). I just about lived at the “bad desk” outside the principals office but when I wasn’t there me and the “naughtiest boy in the class” had our desks joined to hers, while everyone else sat in groups.
The “naughtiest boy”, thanks to living on a commune, was more ummm sexually aware then your average 12 year old and spent much of the day trying to get his hand up my skirt and generaly being a pervert. Whenever I tried to complain I was told off for “talking too much again”.
Well oneday “naughtiest boy”, despite me pinching, scratching and bending back his fingers, managed to get his pervy hand as high as my knickers. I stood up and SHOUTED “I will not sit here anymore…he keeps groping me!”. Mrs Sensitive proceeded to put my desk on top of the rubbish bin and then announced to the class “That’s where she belongs” BITCH
I long to see her crossing a road so I can run her over.
Yes unfortunately bitch-features still made me sit next to perve (even after my parents complained). But perve learnt that a kick in the nuts every lunchtime after he groped just wasn’t worth it.
You mean you had to kick him in the nuts more than once? Geez this guy must have really been perverted to endure nut kickings just so he could grope you
In third grade, my health teacher was talking about abusive friends. My best friend sat across from me, so everytime our teacher would list a sign of peer abuse, we would giggle and jokingly point to one another. Apparently, this didn’t sit well with dear ol’ teach, who stopped what she was doing, looked at me, and yelled, “PUT THAT ARM DOWN, GIRL, OR I’LL BREAK IT!”. That shook me up a bit.
Freshman composition class (English 030 to you Penn Staters), fall of 2001. I had written an essay that began with a quote from a song. The teacher also liked the song, but told me that it was “a pity it all went downhill from there.”
Jackass.
I had a Latin teacher who would express her dislike for students by writing “Stupide” [sic] on a piece of cardboard, with an arrow, and pointing it at them. Cracked the rest of us up.
My history teacher in junior year of high school was known as a real curmudgeon. He was actually really funny, but was not afraid to give unruly students a piece of his mind. One time he walked up to a particularly annoying student, lifted the desk he was sitting in so they were looking eye-to-eye, and yelled, “If you were my kid, I’d beat you within an inch of your life!” Then he dropped the desk and went right back to the lecture.
This guy was also known to empty water bottles over the heads of sleeping students, and he had a big sign over the blackboard that read, “I HATE PEOPLE.” He retired when I graduated. The history department at that school will never be the same.
I had to take a vocational course my senior year in HS to get enough credits to graduate on time. It was “Cooperative-Career Development” and was basically a course exploring different careers…Anywho, towards the end of the year the teacher pulled me aside and proceeded to explain how I “could fuck up a wetdream.”
Other gems from him were centered around how I took care of my friend who was living with me (I had my own apartment my senior year too). Somehow he thought that since I was the slightly older of the two, that I should keep my friend in line…So when my friend showed up hung-over one morning, guess who got threatened with a failing grade?
I once got kicked out of a spelling-bee because the kid behind me was acting up…the teacher runs over to me and grabs me by the neck and hauled me out of the room…to which I promptly collapsed on the floor in pain because I had a neck injury from a skiing accident about a month before. Should have sued, should have sued.
I once played viola and had the music teacher from hell…Things got so bad between us that we openly fought in class daily. I got sent to the principal’s office and refused to go…the principal came to get me, and very calmly told me that he didn’t like her either, but if it came to firing her or expelling me, I would lose because she was union. He and I spent the rest of the period chatting and I never had to go back to class (and I got a C)…
Oh, too many more to relate. I have always questioned authority and been stubborn to boot.
