My very popular and well-liked 11th grade English teacher had a pie thrown in her face between classes, for no real reason. She didn’t see who did it as she’d been turning a corner at the time. It was meant to be this great practical joke, but a lot of students were outaged on her behalf, and I never heard from the rumour mill who did it.
In my old highschool, there was a regular substitute, a nice old lady named Mrs. Dove. For some reason she was famous for always picking up any spare change on the ground. I don’t know why this was such a hot topic with everyone, but it was. So whenever she’d be subbing, kids would just throw coins at her all during class. It was excruciatingly awkward cause she was so nice. I’d feel so bad whenever a coin would hit her, plus it wasn’t all that funny a joke anyway.
Nothing to do with me, but a great prank nonetheless, which I heard about from a friend recently…
A bunch of pupils from his all-girls private school printed hundreds of leaflets protesting at the proposed cost-cutting merger with the boys school in the same town. They handed these out all over the town, and the local press got interested, many angry parents, etc etc.
Of course, no such merger had ever been contemplated.
We used to always have the same sub for my high school geometry and algebra classes. My teacher would always request the same guy, a former math teacher who must have been born a year before Moses. He couldn’t hear well, which he covered for when being asked a question by answering the question he thought he heard. It was never what was asked and confused the hell out of us. Our teacher always had this bell on her desk, the kind from hotels where you hit the top of it. It wasn’t there for any reason, maybe it was an old prop or something. One student had a habit of hitting the bell once in a while when our teacher was talking, which made everyone laugh and created havoc for a few minutes. One day our usual sub was there and he pulled the same stunt. The sub instantly stopped talking, quickly strolled to the back of the room, and picked up the phone, thinking that it had rung. Class never got back on track that day.
There was a kid a year ahead of me in high school, Lenny, who was an absolute master at imitating sounds. By October, every teacher learned that the first response to the fire alarm was to check the back of the room and make sure it wasn’t Lenny throwing his voice (he still managed to get at least a half-dozen classrooms to evacuate as far as the hallway).
Another specialty of his was dog barks. He could do an impression of a medium-size dog that was good enough to fool most people and drive the equipment manager’s golden lab berserk. One day, we were on the bus going to a track meet (Lenny did the shot put) when we heard:
WOOF! WOOF! WOOF-WOOF! WOOF! thump YIIIIIIIIIIIPE!
The poor bus driver nearly had a heart attack while slamming on the brakes.
I don’t know where Lenny is today, but I’d be willing to bet he’s been kicked off an airplane or two because of his performances.
The worst thing I ever saw students doing to a teacher nearly made me sick, and still makes me sick to this day.
One of my math teachers had been engaged to a guy for years, when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She married him, of course, because she loved him and wanted his final days to be happy ones.
Day after day, the students in my class (high school, grade 11) heckled her and taunted her, saying she married a dead man, and that she was stupid and she wasn’t doing anything good for anybody, just marrying a dead man. They said she had no future, and no man would ever marry her again. After the third day of this, when she got up and ran from the classroom, crying, I got up and walked out - I didn’t see her in the hallway. So I went downstairs to the office and told them to transfer me the hell out of that class.
It pisses me off still that I was too cowardly to stick up for her, though some of the guys doing the heckling had threatened to run me over in their car next time they saw me walking home if I opened my trash mouth again - for other reasons, not related to the teacher. They were just nasty. I feel guilty and ashamed, even though I know the threat was real and I was scared to death of them. Being braver and 3000 miles away from them today makes me talk bigger than I could ever have acted back then.
Poison, poison, poison town…
We had an english teacher who took a bit of abuse from students. There were persistant rumors that she had more than coffee in her coffee cup as a result.
One day she came in rather upset because they had been digging a ditch on her property and unearthed a skeleton. The police came in and roped off the area and began an investigation. It turned out that it was not a recent murder, but in fact was an indian burial ground.
She had a tendency to sit at her desk and lean back against the blackboard, drinking her “coffee”. The next day, someone drew an indian head dress on the blackboard. They managed it perfectly. When she sat back against the blackboard, the headress was perfectly placed around her head. She couldn’t figure out why most of the class was laughing at her until someone told her to look at the blackboard.
She seemed a bit more “medicated” for a few weeks following that incident.
In 9th grade, we all had compulsory “Introduction to art as a form of expression” or something like that class. Drawing class, in other words; most of us had just moved from “the Nuns” (co-ed) across the street to the Jesuits (equally co-ed), we’d had drawing class in 5th grade but with no actual attempt to teach, it was just a time when the teacher graded other stuff and we drew whatever we wanted to. We’d also had draftmanship 6th to 8th grade.
9th grade was the first time someone actually told us about drawing with dots, with lines, with spaces and about the use of color. The teacher was real scary: there was a boombox in the classroom and we’d heard rumours that he let the 11th grade students play it but we couldn’t believe the rumours… this guy was like Cerberus with colored pencils. He taught us a lot and taught us well, though.
10th grade, we could choose between draftmanship and accounting. Turns out his behavior in 9th was basically a method to make sure that people who didn’t like to draw went over to accounting 
He wasn’t Mr Fun but he didn’t bark at you from behind suddenly anymore like he did in 9th.
11th grade, the drawing class was divided in three groups, all having class at the same time in the same room: draftmanship (which I chose, since I meant to go into some kind of engineering), art (meant for people who just wanted it as a hobby, future art students, future history students) and science (copying anatomy books and later making drawings of plants and animals, for future biology and medicine students). And yes, he did let us play music on the boombox, alrighty!
He had a stroke in October. We’d already turned in our drawings for the first “term” but he hadn’t started grading.
The sub for 10th and 11th was an asshole. First thing he did was get rid of the scientific drawing, which got him into an argument with a student who said if she hadn’t had that option she would have stayed in accounting thank you much. He insulted students: the old teacher had been scary but never, ever, said anything our grandmothers wouldn’t have agreed with. The old teacher would say “kid, you draw like shit” and it was true: this one said “you’re a piece of shit”.
When his car’s wheels got sliced, he accused one of my classmates. We backed the student: we knew that there had been a couple times when he hadn’t given the teacher a new face because his neighbors had held him down, but hell, when the teacher says you “are a piece of shit and won’t ever be able to make any money except by selling your mother’s cunt”, we consider the student is fully justified in giving said teacher a new face. We claimed that the wheel-slicing was a childish thing and that our classmate would be likely to get into a punching bout with the asshole of a teacher, but not to do crap like that.
Turns out that it was a 9th grader: the 9th grade sub was this guy’s wife, she was a match to her husband, and gee, they happened to share the car! The 9th grader 'fessed up during the original teacher’s funeral, in february, about 3 weeks after the car got messed up.
The sub never apologized although his accusations almost got my classmate expelled, neither did his wife. Neither of them has been able to get a job in the area again: they tried to open small businesses but when people heard that art school and, later, this boutique, belonged to those people, they went bust fast. Haven’t seen them around town for years. If they come back and run into their old students they run the risk of ending up in an irrigation ditch.
My second grade teacher was older than dirt. She had thick, Cokebottle style glasses, and they didn’t help all that much.
At least once a week, someone would take a piece of chalk and draw a line about three inches long on the floor under the blackboard. We would then laugh ourselves silly as she tried to pick up a piece of chalk that wasn’t there.
I had an English teacher in HS that drew abuse like a magnet draws iron filings. She was weak and the class knew it. They’d given her one nervous breakdown, and were working on a second when I had her class. It was horrifying. Some subtle abuse, like presenting her with daily bouquets of lilacs when they knew she was allergic. She didn’t have the fortitude just to tell them she was allergic and couldn’t take them. And some not so subtle, such as super-glueing her classroom door while she was inside. It made going to class painful.
StG
At my Catholic high school the geometry teacher was the most boring man on earth. He spoke in a droning, nasal monotone. His favorite expression was, “When you look at this theorem you will say to yourself, ‘Self, this is how I’ll solve it.’” Every Friday he would where this red and white abomination of an outfit because those were the school colors.
He was also a religious freak to the nth degree. He wouldn’t let his kids trick-or-treat because it was a day to celebrate the Devil. He gave trick-or-treaters little prayer books. I heard his house received the brunt of the eggs, shaving cream and TP.
He also didn’t celebrate Christmas with his kids because you were supposed to remember Jesus and what he brought to the world. Instead they spent all day, and I mean from midnight mass until the last mass of Christmas night, at church. His kids didn’t get presents.
One day when he stepped out of the classroom we all wrote 666 on our foreheads and buy the time he got back we all appeared to be studiously working on our papers. Then boy raised his head, then another, then another. With the appearance of each Mark of the Beast ™, his eyes got bigger and bigger. Finally he just ran from the room. It was worth the detention just to do that.
The worst abuse I saw was one teacher who had been a Viet Nam vet and suffered from Traumatic Stress Disorder (of course we all called it shell shock). One day he had his back to us writing on the board. One kid dropped a heavy dictionary on the floor so it made a loud BOOM. He then yelled at the top of his lungs, “Incoming!! Get down!!” The poor teacher hit the deck screaming and crying and crawled under his desk. Several teachers finally pulled him out.
Kid Pulls Teacher’s Pants Down
I hope that child and the one video taping it(and laughing like an idiot) were expelled the next day.
So did I win?
10th grade. I had an English teacher that was fairly old and had a vision problem. She had zero peripheral vision, and blind spots looking dead on at times. I loved her, she was sweet, and I was her aide for years, but everyone was pretty mean to her. Mostly the would get her distracted then get up and leave because she wouldn’t see them walking by out of the corner of her eyes, and she didn’t hear well anyway. Once a class convinced her there was a bird in the room by making noises and throwing things, She took a vacation, to get surgery, and didn’t tell many people. I knew, and didn’t say a word, so when she got back they tried the tricks again, and many got suspended. All in all it was pretty harmless. Last I heard she had retired, it was long over due.
Nope. Anastasaeon and erie774 are currently leading.
Anastaseon I agree with, but I think ripping earrings out beats erie774.
In our HS during the last week of classes, a senior girl also did the pie thing to a “fun-loving” teacher (a teacher she had and supposedly got along with quite well), but instead of finding it funny, the teacher had her “suspended” from graduation activities; including the graduation ceremony itself.
I dunno… I think the story that erie774 was nominated for was the Vietnam vet one, and those are some pretty heavy emotional scars…
Oddly similar to my story. We had a very well-liked and beloved English teacher who was known for his Viet Nam stories. Some smartass thought it would be fun to throw a fake grenade into his classroom and trigger a flashback. Kids are so sickeningly cruel somtimes.
As for a specific teacher, I had never forgiven the school Physics teacher for not only refusing to give me an ‘A’ (I had the grades to earn it), but for refusing to let me take any additional Physics courses for ‘personal reasons’. So one day, 10 of us decided to enter the room by alternative means. In a prior period, another student had unlocked the outside window in the back of his classroom. (it was about 8 feet off the ground. at the top of a cinderblock wall) After the bell rang, one at a time in single file, we all crawled through the window, climbed across the lab tables, and took our seats. Sure we got detention. But the look on his face was priceless.
As for general mayhem, I created a fictitious student in my during my Senior year. He had medical records, a disciplinarian card, a student registration card, and was registered for several classes, which he never managed to attend. If someone had to go to the nurse, here’s $5 and a card to slip into that rolodex. Office detention? Here’s another $5 and a another card. Class registrations? I nearly went broke on that one. Basically, every event in school where we had to fill out paperwork, he was included and by different handwriting each time.
‘Ezekiel’ had a name, an address (an empty lot in a poverty stricken area near the border of the town) and a home phone number. It was back in the days before caller ID and phone tracing technology was pretty much limited to cops. The number was to an unlisted phone of my sister’s (back when unlisted was almost untraceable) on another floor of our house, as she was away at college.
Towards the end of that school year, the Asst principal called that number and tried to speak to ‘Ezekiel DeLoach’ or to his parents. Now, my HS AVP was a smug little prick; one of those people who you just know had only gotten his job through political patronage or naked polaroids of the superintendent in a safety deposit box. Somehow I always knew he’d be the one to actually call. I stayed on the line and I played with his head for almost an hour, and finally he demanded that I (‘Ezekiel’ ) report to school the next day for detention.
I told him I’d think about it. 
Whenever I got tired of dealing with him, or had to go to school or to bed, I’d just unplug the phone, so no calls from him or his staff ever did get through (and when they’d call when I was home, I’d always answer “Oh, its you again. What’s your problem anyway…?”
There were literally Hundreds of kids in the HS, but he never could match my voice. 