New Jersey. Also the place where people say “asterick”.
My Advanced Composition professor in undergrad dinged me because I referred to built-in furniture as being “permanently” attached. His exact words were, “Give me ten minutes with a sledgehammer and we’ll see how permanently they’re attached.”
:rolleyes:
Frak you, Dr. Rogers.
A former boss of mine, at a community college, of all places, pronounced it “febby-airy.” 
Never heard that before or since.
I’m wrong all the time. When I find out I’m wrong, I admit it, and try to reverse any effects from my wrongness. Sometimes it’s just a simple error in speaking/writing/calculating, which are usually easy to fix. But certainly there have been and will continue to be changes to some of the information that I teach over the course of my career. I try to stay updated on new discoveries and revisions to existing theories. I watch the science channel…I read from journals and magazines occasionally. Sometimes I’ll phone or e-mail an old professor and ask for clarification. (Not all teachers do this, they just keep teaching the same stuff they learned in college thirty years ago…) But, invariably, I will certainly miss a lot of things. It can’t be helped. I hope I don’t teach too much that is wrong, but the fact is it is just going to happen. If I’m ever made aware of it, I’m glad to be able to correct it.
Sometimes if a student tries to correct me and I brush them aside it isn’t that I don’t think their point might not have merit, it’s because I’m not sure if they really want to discuss a point, or they just want to provide a disruption. A lot of times it’s the disruption.
That’s why I love teaching History. Napoleon still loses at Waterloo, no matter how much time passes since my college days!
The “whys” may change, but it’s rare that the “whats” do. 
My Favorite Hate Teacher of All Time ™:
At my university, I was part of something called the Honors Program. One of the perks was that instead of having to take the giant-mob general freshman classes, we got our own Honors sections or alternative classes. One of these was the introductory Philosophy course that everyone was required to take, “The Philosophy of Human Nature.”
In the beginning of the semester, I avidly participated in class discussions, raising questions about and objections to various classic philosophical arguements. … Until the professor just stopped calling on me. I finally got so frustrated that I decided to keep my hand up until I was called on, and for a couple of classes I had my hand in the air for over half an hour straight.
Finally, I went up to the professor after class and asked if I’d done something to make him mad. He responded that I was, and I quote, “an unteachable student,” and that if I didn’t stop asking questions, he would dock my participation grade. (That’s right: I would **lose credit **for participating… if I participated.)
At that point, I said “fuck it,” ceased to do any readings, read other things during lectures, bullshitted my way through homework and exams, and walked out with, IIRC, a B. I learned later that the professor’s specialty was the history of philosophy. Why the hell they thought he’d be a good choice for an Honors section (i.e., a version of the course that’s supposed to emphasize discussion and discovery versus just straight-up rote memorization), I will never understand.
Best advice I ever got from a guidance counselor: “If you can get into a college’s honors program, you can get into a better college.” 
My Grade 7 teacher was absolutely convinced Labrador was part of Quebec.
It’s worth noting we had a big political map on the wall of the classroom on which Labrador was very obviously the same colour as Newfoundland, and a very different colour than Quebec.
Only one stands out to me. Taking a German A-level class, for some reason or other the teaching assistant (a German trainee teacher over in the UK as part of an exchange programme) insisted that the oldest underground train system in the world was in Budapest. I said no, it was London. We were just a few miles outside London and the tube had recently had an anniversary where it was often mentioned that it was the oldest such system.
That teacher bet me a tenner that he was right, and the main teacher offered to bring in an encyclopaedia next lesson so we could find out who was right.
Come the lesson, the assistant picked up the encyclopaedia, flicked to the right section, and handed me a tenner.
We were good friends for about ten years after that.
I make mistakes all the time. I’m human, and I get distracted (ooh, shiny!). I try to tell all my classes that if I’ve goofed, please tell me, and I’ll fix it. BUT, please approach me in a respectful manner, not with a snotty tone. It won’t make ‘brownie points’ with me.
My high school Physics teacher was a just-graduated Chemistry major, so maybe five years older than we were. My buddy and I sat in the back of the class, correcting her on things like which way sunlight bends when it hits the atmosphere obliquely, magnetism information, and other stuff. She really didn’t have the knack for Physics.
(Sorry, Nancy, for bringing this up.)
Come on, that’s awesome…
Okay, less awesome if you lost points, but you have to love that perspective.
No, you don’t, because from that reasoning, the phrase ‘permanently attached’ has no fucking meaning, since everything can be smashed enough.
Back in my college days, in my Philosophy class, the teacher announced that we were to discuss a subject he had been dreading (as most of the class was filled with students with an off-kilter, offbeat sense of humour, myself included)
the discussion topic that day was “What is the Meaning Of Life?”
over half the class said in unison…
“Forty Two!, can we go now?”
the professor was not amused, and tried to explain why we were “wrong”, but we knew better…
What does that even mean? If you take the atomic weight of February, is it pronounced with both "R"s? Is it somewhere in the Constitution that the "R"s need to be pronounced? If you say only the second “R” do you contract syphilis?
Jeez. The kindergarten teacher was much more correct than you were. Go apologize to your kid now.
This sort of thing happened to me many times in school, from the third grade teacher who wouldn’t let me do my African-animal project on mound-builder termites because termites aren’t animals, to my seventh-grade teacher who gave me D on a test (4-question test; miss one question and you go from 100 to 75) because I misdefined sharecropping, even after I brought in a dictionary and showed her that my definition was more accurate than hers, to the college professor who insisted that in the noun “cement,” the emphasis was on the first syllable (in her double defense, she was brain damaged, AND next week she gave me a lollipop and an apology; against her favor, I ended up keeping a record of the myriad similar errors she taught the class, up until the point where she disinvited me from the class, asking me to do an independent study instead).
As a second-grade teacher, I of course make mistakes. My most memorable one was for a weird-but-awesome kid who wrote a spelling sentence about the moon of Pluto. I was convinced–convinced–that Pluto didn’t have any moons, and I told him so, and basically argued him into submission on the point.
Next day, he had a letter on his desk apologizing for my error and telling him about Pluto’s second, recently-discovered moon. I felt pretty bad about being so insistent on something I had no business being insistent on.
I had a good experience with correcting a history professor last year. In class, he attributed a Roman historian’s distasteful description of the Huns as being reactive to Attilla’s invasions. Trouble was, this historian published before Attila’s birth. I, having actually done the assigned work and read up on the historian(translation: read Wikipedia summary), was a little surprised, since I recalled Attila belonging to the fifth century and this historian to the fourth. I asked the professor about this after class and he stopped, stared at me for a moment, and thanked me for calling him out on it, saying he wasn’t sure and would check. Two days later in class, he corrected himself and pointed me out as having caught the error. Classy guy.
My father, a college professor, normally offers to bet students one percent of their final grade for the course over any disagreements in class. Sometimes he even gives them odds; 3% for a correction, and only 1% for a loss. He’s lost a couple of the bets, too.
I’ve heard a good story about a scenic designer, Richard, at a theatre I used to work at who stopped a dress rehearsal, shouting from the back row of the theatre, “That wall is a quarter-inch off spike!” And sure enough, it was. He’d spotted the mistake from at least seventy feet away, without the benefit of a visible mark on stage to compare it to. A perfect eyeballed guess. Trouble is, he’ll be “Quarter-Inch Dick” at this particular stage for the rest of his life.
College, freshman year, spring semester, elective class. Topic I’d been looking forward to. Associate professor replacing the professor of record this semester.
Day one.
Instructor: “…and the people who wrote those early studies were using structuralist theory, which is a form of social theory that is always conservative and is used to support an agenda of keeping things just the way they are”
Me: ::raises hand:: ——> ::called on:: ——> “Actually, it’s a way of looking at social structure that can be useful for other agendas, too. I’m thinking Elizabeth Janeway’s Man’s World, Woman’s Place, where she quotes straight out of Talcott Parsons to derive…”
Instructor: “Excuse me, but I’m well versed in this and believe me, structuralist theory is conservative. If you only signed up with this class to be disruptive, let me tell you now that I don’t appreciate it.”
perhaps 20 minutes later, same lecture:
Instructor: “…so this communal group made use of a form of sexual continence in which pregnancy was prevented without birth control techniques even though they were sexually active, making use of a practice that I am not going to mention but the term for which I am sure you all well know”.
Me: ::raises hand:: ——> ::keeps raising hand:: ——> ::called on:: “I’m sorry, but with regards to the sexual continence practice, I hate to admit my ignorance but I really have no idea what term or what practice you’re referring to”
Instructor: ::scowls:: “I really think you should drop this class. It seems to me that you’re just going out of your way to be disruptive”
Me: “I’m not trying to be disruptive, but I’m unaware of any common practice that would let folks be sexually active without birth control technology yet without any risk of pregnancy, and I’m very curious”
Instructor: “I am NOT going to say a phrase that you may find amusing up here in front of the class. If you really must, stay after the class and I will tell you then”
Me, after class: ::waits while instructor ignores me a long time:: ——> “As soon as you have a moment, I would like to know about that sexual continence practice”
Instructor: ::scowling in total disgust:: “It’s called blue balls. Are you satisfied?”
Me:
I go to library, research the group in question in the anthro and socio lit. The practice was retrograde ejaculation. The males learned how to do that. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t overlap with any popular understanding of “blue balls”.
Dropped the course and took something else.
Oh yeah. We had a student teacher come in during the middle term of twelfth grade history - 20th Century History. She wasn’t particularly well-versed in the subject, and some guy and I pretty much taught the unit on the Cold War between us. (At the time, I was a Cold War history buff. It’s all gone now.)
All the same, our regular teacher thanked our class for treating the student teacher with a modicum of respect and trying to get her through the ordeal with some dignity left. The other classes she was teaching apparently just degenerated into chaos, but except for one bad apple, our class actually wanted to learn the material.
On the whole “pronunciation of February” thing; most people I know pronounce it something like “Febyouree” or “Feb’ree”.
On the first exam I ever gave a class, I wanted them to calculate some accelerations at some points on a four-bar linkage. There wasn’t enough time to do the whole problem, so I gave them the velocities (which have to be calculated first). Trouble was, it was physically impossible for the linkage to have the velocities I gave them. The best part was when a kid called me on it during the exam. I had to tell the class to pretend the velocities were correct so they’d be able to calculate the accelerations.