It was the start of third grade and football season was just about to get underway. I was pretending to be a punter one morning, and I had my brown bag lunch in my hand. I did an invisible kick and the lunch slipped from my hand, flying across the room. I got detention for “trying to hit another child with my lunch.”
In high school, the teacher was fed up with the class acting up, so he said the next person that talks will get a 0 on the day’s test. The kid behind me kept badgering me about borrowing a pen. After about the tenth request for a loaner, I said “No, he said shut up!” I got a 0, a lecture, and a lunch detention.
My brother wanted my video game and I told him no. He bit his own arm and told my mom I did it. I was grounded to my room without TV privileges, and my brother played my games all week.
1st grade. Nap time. (I think the teacher just wanted a break) But some kid behind me was humming. But I was called up and given smack on the hand with a ruler.
My mom raised hell to the principal and the teacher had to apologize. She was, of course, a total bitch to me after that for the rest of the year.
Once when my brother and I were about five and six, respectively, my mother found a dried-up little Flintstones vitamin in the rug. She decided we had been helping ourselves to the yummy, candy-like pills, and proceeded to browbeat us mercilessly in an effort to get one of us to confess. We both denied taking any, but she didn’t believe us. Finally, she told us to get in the car because she was taking us to the hospital to have our stomachs pumped (a fine old bluffer she was). My brother and I were all the way out in the driveway, crying as we got into the car, when I heroically confessed to the deed and saved us both.
Years later, when I felt sufficiently removed from the crime, I told the truth but it was too late. I’ve lived my life branded a Flintstones thief. And no gratitude from my little brother either.
When I was 8 or so I was playing hide and seek with my 4yo brother. I was counting to 10 when a horrible scream shook the house. My brother was going around in the otherwise empty dryer. To this day my mother believes that I shut him in but the truth is that I had taught him how to climb in and close the door from the inside about a week before. He had just forgotten to close the door before he got in to make sure there was no time left in the cycle.
First grade. Our teacher had told us it was time to be quiet and read. The girl behind me kept pestering me for some reason. I turned around and told her to stop and I’m the one who had to stand in the corner for the first (and only) time. I was mortified.
Seventh grade band class; I played drums. The instructor asked me to keep rhythm on the bass drum while the snares stayed silent. My friend, sitting behind me, kept beating a tattoo on the back of my legs while I was playing. After enduring this for a couple of minutes, I turned and clocked him with the bass drum stick. The band teacher only saw my action, of course, and I was kicked out of band. ::shakes fist at Raymond::
About 8, my mother stormed into the house accusing me of etching my name onto the boot (trunk) of her car. She was FURIOUS, and dragged me outside to look at the terrible deed.
When I pointed out to her that my name was misspelled, and if I wanted my name enshrined on her car I’d at least spell it right, she backed down immediately.
Third grade. 7-8 yrs old. My teacher accused me of cheating on a test, when I was the one being cheated from. I had no idea that I was** supposed** to sit with my arm curled protectively around my paper so that the girl sitting next to me could not copy my answers. I had no idea that anyone would need to copy my answers, we had learned this information while sitting in class, so it never occurred to me that she would not know it,** OR** that she would look on my paper for the correct answer. I got a 0 on the test because I “let the other girl cheat.” (I had never gotten a 0 before.) Oh, the shame!!
My mother was a teacher in the same school system, and that teacher made me feel so mortified, I never told my mother… it must have been my fault… And FUCK YOU, MISS LEOPOLD!!! :mad:
Grade 6…A friend at church showed me how to wet a wad of toilet paper and toss it up on the bathroom ceiling where it would stick indefinitely. That being a really cool trick, I showed it to a friend at school and we stuck a couple on the ceiling. The next day, the principal was asking everyone if they knew about the tp on the ceiling. Being a little square and figuring it was a minor prank, I fessed up and was ordered to get a stepladder from the janitor and remove it. You can imagine my surprise when I went into the bathroom and the entire ceiling was covered with wads of wet tp. Took a while to take it all down, let me tell you. Some friend I had.
I once came upon my friends playing with fire and told them to stop doing that and a neighbor lady came upon us a few seconds later and concluded that I was one of the culprits. She had called the SFFD and they gave us a short lecture, which must have gravely disappointed the lady.
People don’t care if they have the right person to blame as long as they feel superior.
Once when I was around 6, school was about to finish for the day and we were all sent to get our coats. Obviously, noise ensued.
After most of the kids had got their coats and were heading back to the classroom, the headteacher pulled me aside and accused me of making excessive noise. She said I was shouting and screaming for the sake of it.
Now, I suppose it’s possible that I did something like that so absent-mindedly that I didn’t even realize it (I would make weird noises as a kid), but it doesn’t seem likely. She insisted I had done it, so I was quite confused.
When I was a few years older, a teacher wanted me to admit I had had “help” with a poem I had written. I most certainly hadn’t. In the end she let it go, but it was clear she didn’t believe me when I said it was 100% my own work, which was kind of irritating.
Actually, I got punished almost every week for stupid things I didn’t do. Unfortunately, I was supposed to do be doing that stupid homework.
I don’t think I got punished, but my mom was convinced that I had taken a bite out of this fig cake that was on the counter. She thought I’d picked my way through the plastic and took a bite and turned it around so no one would notice.
A couple days later she saw the mouse scurry out from under the fridge. As if, mom!
