Modding: No warning, but the post was flagged, as that “even” bespeaks borderline racism. As though Blacks are less sensitive to pain.
I had interpreted it to mean that all of the children were ignorant of how unpleasant the job was, even the ones whose grandparents had worked the job.
If one isn’t cognizant that whites work in cotton fields, too.
I had an 8th grade teacher that did weird things. Does that count?
We’ll just call her Miss S. She wore way too much makeup and jewelry. And her perfume literally made me gag once, when she walked by my friend and me.
Now this was against school policy (I went to an RC school). But somehow they tolerated it.
Otherwise she was pretty popular. Oh, and I just read in the paper that she died, a couple of years ago. I had nothing her.
Yes, that’s the obvious meaning of the post, unless you’re a fucking asshole looking to find something to object to.
yeah thats hwat i meant they assumed it was grandpa giving then the " school up hill in the snow "treatment
No they found out it really does suck… at least we were spared the picking and killing of weevils by hand …
And at that your cotton plants probably weren’t infested with stinging boll caterpillars like cotton usually was in pre-pesticide days.
Moderating: that’s completely inappropriate for this forum. Warning issued.
Never a teacher of mine, but a friend mentioned that one of his teachers let a Playboy get passed around.
I don’t know if it would qualify as weird. But my HS French teacher (whose first language was French, I believe), used to dance around the room, joking and saying random things in French.
The odd thing about it, I guess, was it obviously wasn’t going to be on the tests or quizzes. She was just trying to entertain us. And, yes, I think it was rather entertaining. I enjoyed that class. 
I had an English teacher in high school who would randomly go in and out of her affected, fake English accent. And I had an English teacher in 7th grade who told the class, “I don’t make mistakes.” Um, everybody makes mistakes.
Probably trying to get across the point that French can be fun as well as, "The pen of my uncle is on the table.
.10th grade, World Cultures. Two very bizarre incidents from this teacher thought to come to work a bit tipsy now and then.
First one she showed up for this 1st period class, late as usual, wearing sunglasses and carrying a box that she set on her desk. She announces everyone would be sitting quietly until the period was over, there were to be no questions, no talking at all, what she was doing was her own business and we could just forget about it tomorrow. She spent the rest of the class taking sunglasses out of that box one by one and polishing them with tissues from her purse. We all read stuff, I continued my opus of decoration on the old wood top desk where I sat. The class ended and we never heard anything more from her. We assumed she just had a hangover at the time, but perhaps she was up all night crying as the result of some great tragedy in her life.
Next incident started with her out in the hall clearly talking to Mr. Montgomery*, the young handsome, unattached teacher that had his own rumor mill operating, and then Mrs. Crawford (just remembered her name!) giggled and said way too loud “Oooooo, Jim, you haven’t attacked me like this all week!”. She then came through the door to the classroom, almost in a stagger, and began to talk about ancient Egyptian artwork even though we thought we were done with ancient Egypt the week before. She proceeded to tell us about the style of artwork where people were shown with the their feet and faces turned to the side while the rest of the body was seen front on. And then suddenly she was standing on top of her desk to demonstrate why people couldn’t actually pose that way while we worried she was about to fall off the desk. She of course reminded us that she used to do modelling a subject that comes up often in teaching world cultures. She managed to finish demonstrate the impossibility of those poses, then a few more that didn’t seem at all relevant. Finally, she seemed to realize she was precariously perched on that desk, crouched down to get a hold with her hands, and slowly made her way down to the floor.
*I am now reminded of the weirdness out of school with Mr. Montgomery. The next year I became friends with a young woman of around 20 who was friends with this teacher who was probably still not 30. So I ended up hanging around with him at parties where he’d be drinking and smoking weed, and talking to him about Nam and music and the like. All without him ever realizing I was student at the school were he taught. I never was in one of his classes so it’s not like he’d recognize me in particular.
Seventh grade homeroom: One day a teacher came into the room and started to scold a student. It quickly escalated and wound up with the teacher striking the student (not really, read on ). Then our homeroom teacher started to yell “GET OUT YOUR PAPER AND PENCILS AND WRITE DOWN WHAT YOU SAW, YOU WERE ALL WITNESSES.”
So this was some sort of exercise (the student being scolded was “in on it from the start” and wasn’t really hit) where our accounts would be compared and we would all learn how unreliable eyewitness accounts were.
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That’s when I started to believe that some adults were batshit crazy.
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I wish I had written that down in the report I handed in. Along with “I’ll never trust you again.”
I had a similar power. I could sit facing the class and point anywhere I wanted on the whiteboard behind me with my meter stick. Kids were amazed.
Eventually one would figure out the glass doors on the cabinets in the back of the room helped.
I dream of this being a zombie thread a decade or so from now because of one of my students seeing it.
Ahhh, a tasty tangent: What would you guess they’d say was the “weirdest”?
I can apparently do that without even thinking about it. It surprised the heck out of me when someone complimented me on it.
I remember taking Russian in ninth grade with Ms Cham, who had started her teaching there as Mrs Hendofar the Spanish teacher. Apparently, something about the divorce process made her decide to teach Russian (even though she was Ukrainian). I joined the second year, in a split class. She would occasionally teach one half or the other, but mostly she sat at her desk reading from a diary she had found in a bathroom at the beach and let us do what we wanted.
I think she still taught Spanish classes, but Russian was more or less an extended break. I did learn the alphabet and a few basics, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.
Just before the war started Russian was the first language of about 30% of the Ukrainian population. Almost all the rest know some Russian, from broken form to complete fluency. So no surprise if your teacher could teach Russian. Many Russian speakers in Ukraine now may be disassociating themselves from the Russian language.