Mrs. Kathleen Schmidt, bitch, Catholic and Cunt who "taught" English at Ankeny Jr. High in Beavercreek, OH.\
She called my dad and told her I was an insufferable snob because I wasn''t friends with the 3 rednecks she sat at my table. She forgot to mention that the 3 ass hats spent every waking moment tormenting me for being gay. \
My dad beat the shit out of me.\
I found out recently she died. Put a smile on my face!
It would be nice if we had a ''best thing teacher ever did for you'' thread.
High School Teacher
r2, I think Zak just answered that.
My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Lamp, made me nap under the grand piano because I was so chatty. Instead of being a punishment, it was a special thrill to be in the safe cage of the piano legs.
Shamed and laughed at by more than one asshole.
my senior gym teacher did a very poor job rimming my hole. he made up for it by busting a huge coach-load up my boy-manbutt.
Mr. Wright, Edison Elementary, Denver, 1972. He kept me after a social studies class or something like that because I wasn''t doing well in it and proceeded to lecture me about what a horrible student I was and how I was never going to amount to anything and how he was going to recommend that I be put back into fourth grade. He did this in front of the next class he was supposed to teach.\
I was gone from the next class for so long that teacher, Mr. Lowe, came looking for me. He found me outside of his classroom crying. I told him what happened and he let me stay outside of class to calm down and wash my face in the bathroom. After school that day he talked to the principal about it and Mr. Wright got written up. He did that kind of shit all the time to kids.\
I remember it like it was yesterday, I even remember his bad coffee breath.
[quote]She called my dad and told her I was an insufferable snob...%0D\
Maybe your dad beat the shit out of you because you keep referring to him as a woman.
My 2nd grade teacher paddled me because I ask for a friend to pass the salt, at lunch.
Your second-grade teacher paddled you, R9? How old are you, 70?
I wore boots to school one day and my third grade teacher, Mrs. Allen, announced in front of class that only women clicked their heels loudly as I walked in front of her desk (I was a boy). Everyone laughed and laughed.
My sixth grade math teacher gave in to my blackmail. That''s no way to teach me a life lesson.
Not a damn thing.
My 5th grade teacher - Mr. Potetti - called me a sissy among other things.
teachers: the ultimate crones
For no apparent reason, my 9th grade Spanish teacher announced in front of the class one day that "the ugly little boy in that picture looks just like (my name)" as we were watching a slideshow about Spain. Most of my classmates laughed. I got back at him though. I left a gift from my dog with a note attached on his desk. That got me detention for a week. So then another classmate and I made up a song about him that we would sing during class, it was all about him getting raped every night in a well. He was a freak, in his 40s and still lived with his mother. Had no control over the class, books and chair routinely got tossed out the 2nd floor window while he tried to teach.
And I''m a female.
In the 7th grade (1965) my social studies teacher, a well known bitch caught me and Patricia Latham whispering in class one day. She went berserk (a trait I later figured out was a sure sign of insanity) and ordered us both to go home and write a long sentence 100 times and bring them back in the next day. I haven't forgotten to this day what it was the bitch wanted us to write.
"when I engage in unnecessary conversation during the period of time that has been appropriated for Social Studies I shall find myself having to write a lengthy statement such as this"
Well, neither of us got all 100 done that night and the next day she took us both into the hall, made us grab the wall and hit us 5 times each with a wood board that had holes drilled so it would raise blisters. I plotted that cunt's death for years but luckily I didn't need to do anything as she was killed in a plane crash when I was in the 10th grade. I still remember what a happy day that was when I heard that nasty bitch was dead. I hope she's still burning in hell.
The band teacher I bitch about every so often. Sexually harassed me, groped me a couple of times, physically threatened me, screamed and yelled, humiliated me in front of audiences, etc. I wasn''t allowed to quit band because I won awards for the school. I often thought about quitting school at 16 until my parents relented and let me go elsewhere.\
I wish I could say his name but, as I mentioned before, he''s now a member of a pretty famous pro rock band that have re-formed under another name, and he''s very easy to find online.
My 4th grade teacher was Mrs. Wolken. One day, a kid named Joe in our class thought some of us talking about sloppy joe sandwiches at lunch were talking about him. Mrs. Wolken got so mad when Joe told her that she came flying at me, raised her hand, and was a fraction of a second away from backhanding me. I didn''t even flinch and it made her stop, I guess because what she REALLY wanted was to see a 9 year old cower in fear.\
Here are the 4th grade teachers from the same school now. They all look psycho, with unkempt hair and wide eyes. What the fuck?
First semester of business school, the prof made the class too easy and I like 25% of the class, got a perfect score. So he decided to interview each of us and give us a final grade, and during the interview he made it clear that he didn''t like faggots and gave me a B even though I earned an A. That one grade dropped me from 4.0 to 3.8 average and ultimately meant I missed out being at the very top of the class. But it was the 80s and there was nothing I could do about it.%0D\
Mrs Collett. Fucking bitch.\
I was 9 or 10 and I had to read a speech in the front of the class. I read it too fast for her liking so the cunt made me read it out loud again.\
CUNT. Cunt. CUNT.
Let me tell you a story about vengeance. \
Mr. Hall was the Phys Ed student teacher during my sixth grade year. He was an (admittedly hot) absolutely full of himself football player who did not get drafted. Everything was about, "you can expect to do these drills if you can make it to college." Constantly he made us run--from bell to bell. Once I had an asthma attack and he would not let me go to the nurse. In retrospect, this may not have been a full-blown attack, but he pissed me off majorly, and I proceeded to pass out after dragging myself out of class with him yelling behind me.\
I told the nurse (who I absolutely loved) what had happened and she called the principle in, who filled out a form while I retold the story. They fired him that day. I looked up Mr. Hall about 5 years ago on myspace; he was an attendant at a car wash.
No I''m not a fatty, nor am I sorry.
"the ugly little boy in that picture looks just like (my name)"%0D\
Your teacher was awesome, R16.%0D\
"But it was the 80s and there was nothing I could do about it." %0D\
It''s a new era, R25! You can bitch about it, and all the deans will collapse into paroxysms of self-flagellation, the university will rename a building after you, and you will receive the first ever 86.0 GPA in your college''s history.
Eris, Goddess of Discord
"I didn''t even flinch and it made her stop, I guess because what she REALLY wanted was to see a 9 year old cower in fear."%0D\
Maybe she didn''t want to get bat feces on her hand, R20.
Eris, In Encore Mode
I don''t understand your post, r29. Are you a teacher? Didn''t mean to offend your fat, lazy overpaid ass.
I have to say, I had a lot of bad teachers but a few were wonderful. A good teacher can really make a difference.
Let''s see, trolldar reveals that r2 is also r28 and r29. Imagine that, a psychotic shithead is a teacher. What a surprise. Teachers should not be surprised that the rest of us want their unions torn apart asap. Unfortunately, r2/r28/r29 is the typical type of person who becomes a teacher, a craven coward who cannot deal with adults so goes after children.
On December 7, my high school chemistry teacher, who was German, walked around to all of the Japanese-American students, including myself, and sprinkled rice kernels on our heads. I guess it really wasn''t that bad. He was a very odd character. The principal would occasionally come in and sit in on his classes, no doubt due to student complaints.
You''re very defensive, R30 and R32. Do you two need a time-out?
Grow Up, Sociopaths! School Ended A Long Time Ago
Zak - did you ever go to Bergamo retreat center in Beavercreek? I love that place.
I believe R34 et al. really is a teacher, because 80% of the teachers I used to work for really WERE that dumb.
No cowcunt r2/28/29/34, but your type is transparent. Enjoy your union while you''ve got it. I can''t wait till the day pantystains like you get your protective layer of blubber taken away an you have to get a *shudder* real job, with adults and everything.
Most of my teachers were at least decent, and a few were great. I guess the worst of them was Mr. Purcell, the seventh grade boys P.E. coach. \
He told our class that if we didn''t love sports, we would grow up to father abnormal children. Stupid fucker, but not abusive.\
My ninth grade coach made up for it though. I think he pegged me as a gayling, and he pulled me out of class participation to spend the period in his office helping with "paperwork," with was a whole lot of nothing. No, he never tried anything inappropriate. \
Maybe he wanted me to spend the time looking through his slightly hidden Playboys, in hopes it might swing me over, but I don''t know. He also had me assigned on permanent towel-boy duty to pass out the towels to all the naked, wet guys coming out of the shower, so I still think of him kindly.
Mrs Lane, 2nd grade. Tied me to my chair every day because I wouldn''t sit still. It went in for a couple of months before my mother found out, at which point I was yanked out of the school and the teacher was fired. \
Will never forget that, being tied down is probably one of my earliest memories.
Although there were still certainly terrible teachers in elementary school, it seemed to me that that was the school that had the nicest teachers. With each new school, the teachers got worse and worse, with college teachers being the worst as far as I''m concerned.
Around 6th grade I walked up the wrong side of the staircase and was forced to "hold up the wall" in the hallway with another degenerate for 3 hours. Humiliating!
Comparatively, my worst experiences are small petty things. What this thread has made me consider though is that the most egregious actions taken by teachers were all academic situations I could "handle" because I the top student in my class (granted, I lost valedictorian in my final semester due to a petty grade on a makeup exam taken because I was in the hospital). It is tough to bully a kid who fell asleep in your class, but always got an ''A'' on everything.\
However, r38''s story reminded me that in 8th grade the PE coaches must have taken pity on me. I, too, got to do "paperwork" instead of participate in the various sporting activities. I puttered around the office doing a lot of nothing.
Grade 6. Picked me up and threw me across the room.
We had an Easter party in 1st grade and all dressed up in our best clothes including my new Robin''s egg blue suit. The teacher Miss Barnes had white carnations for each of the kids and pinned them on the collars of the little girls'' dresses and the little boys'' lapels.%0D\
When she got to me she pinned mine on my collar! I was mortified and blushed when all the kids and Miss Barnes laughed at me.%0D\
As you can imagine, I never forgot this. But writing this all down now I realize what an effect it had on my perception of myself.
My seventh grade teacher threw my desk across the room while I was still sitting in it. She was a real peach. Life handed me a bottle of happy when Mrs. Asshat not only came into the restaurant I worked at but also sat at my table. Apparently, the shit on the bottom of my shoe tastes great over pizza.
[quote]Apparently, the shit on the bottom of my shoe tastes great over pizza.\
Yeah right like you were walking around a restaurant serving people with dog shit on your shoe.
I assume he didn''t literally mean "shit" but just the crap that any shoe would have from walking on dirty floors all day, r46(who''s probably another worthless teacher).%0D\
Good one, r45. I''m surprised you didn''t spit on it too.
Mrs Carter routinely threw me out of algebra class.\
It was the only class that I never had to study for. My friends and I would just try and make each other laugh. We would take those plastic grapes and make them suck onto our necks.\
She thought we were laughing at her size 48 DD''s.\
And she wore gorgette peek a boo blouses to boot!
Miss Brodie sent me to fight with the wrong army.
Don''t even dare ask. The monsters!
[quote]We would take those plastic grapes and make them suck onto our necks.%0D\
I went to a Catholic elementary school. The grade 6 teacher was named Mrs. Dick, no joke.
She was by far the most evil teacher I've ever encountered. She routinely called me stupid, ignorant, dumb and whatever synonym for "idiot" she could think of. The only solace, I guess, is that she was quite vicious to most of the other students as well.
The most horrible thing I saw her do was to this girl Danielle. The school policy was that we were not allowed to wear any jewelry except for Catholic paraphernalia (ie: small, modest cross pendant necklaces). Well one day Danielle came in with a necklace that wasn't Catholic. It was a gift from her father whom she didn't get to see very often and it meant a lot to her.
Mrs. Dick noticed this in the hall and demanded that Danielle take the necklace off or she would be punished. When Danielle tried to explain to Mrs. Dick that it was special to her, Mrs. Dick swiftly reached out and snatched the necklace off of the girl's neck, breaking the chain. She then threw it to the ground and STOMPED on it like a fucking maniac!
That was the last straw, as far as my class was considered. We all rallied behind Danielle and went to the Principle's office to tell him what was going on and about this particular incident. He said that he would "give it serious review". I remember the other teachers backing Mrs. Dick and saying what a "good" teacher she was. How she was "stern but fair" and that we simply disliked her because she was a tough grader.
Needless to say, she didn't get fired or even reprimanded. Us going to the Principle only made her verbal abuse worse. That was my first lesson in crony-ism and how life just isn't always fair...
Those grape clusters...you pick off one grape and then by pinching it and sticking it on your neck it would adhere to it.\
So much fun and we also made up poems.\
I had a little pup\
His name was Rup.\
Oh, we thought we were so clever.
I had a teacher in my first year of high school who made my life a living hell on a daily basis. He would literally make fun of me in front of the entire class. I was very quiet, and very shy. I was never in trouble.\
He badmouthed me to all the other teachers, and then they suddenly didn''t like me. Some of them I hadn''t even met yet, and they already had a problem with me. I found out that he had been making jokes about me to the other teachers.\
It really fucked me up for years. I came from a very small grade school, where the majority of teachers were very nice and involved in each of the students'' lives. \
This was a totally foreign experience for me. I became extremely depressed, and developed OCD. Total paranoia. I do wonder if the guy had a thing for me, and that''s why he took such an interest in whatever I was doing. Some people are able to pick up on things like that, and I do know that he didn''t have a social life outside of the school.\
God, thank god those days are over!
Ms. Winters, choir teacher.%0D\
I have a horrible singing voice. goddamn bitch tortured me in front of the class and had to sing solo so she could hear the problesm. It was humiliating.%0D\
I hope the fat bitch choked to death on a sausage.
I think teaching is one of those professions that psychopaths are drawn to like law enforcement and Wall Street banking.\
Parents need to be more involved in their children''s lives and be mindful that the teacher isn''t always right. It''s safe to assume that every child will experience at least one crazed teacher in their school career.
[quote]My seventh grade teacher threw my desk across the room while I was still sitting in it. \
Was she from Krypton?
Good Lord, R37... Get some help. Your anger is killing your punctuation.
The English Language
You can''t be too bright yourself, R36... Since I am the same poster throughout, ''et al.'' doesn''t quite apply here, does it?
When I was in the 4th grade, I ended up at school without a belt on my pants, which was against dress code. A teacher (not mine) on duty in the cafeteria noticed my missing belt, and decided to teach me a lesson. He taunted me and called attention to the fact I was missing a belt. Then, in one swift motion he yanked my pants and underpants down to my knees, exposing me to dozens of people. I was shocked and began to cry. After pulling my pants up, I ran out of the lunch room and out the door. By this time, the teacher knew he'd stepped in shit and was running after me, saying it was a mistake. I kept running-off the school grounds and all the way to my house, which was about a block away. My father,who worked a lot at home, was there. When I was able to explain what happened, he marched back to the school and went directly into the principal's office, where he found the teacher trying to explain the situation. My father, not one to ask questions first, threw a mean punch and knocked the teacher out. I think we later learned that he had broken his nose. The teacher was fired. It still ranks as one of the few really nice things my father did for me as a kid.
Good he was fired r61. What a shithead
Some of these stories are just baffling. Obviously they aren''t checking for mental stability when handing out teaching certificates!
When I read threads like this I never cease to be amazed at the cruelty that adults are capable on inflicting on the most vulnerable.
Something I have realized in later years is that most teachers seem to fucking HATE children.\
Anyone else notice this?\
If they hate kids then why bother entering that career field in the first place?
Familiarity breeds contempt, r65.
So much mental illness in a single thread...
In the eighth grade Mr. Moss took three of us into the hall -- for talking in class, if I remember correctly. He had a huge bolo bat and said "Who wants to be first?". Nobody said anything until I said that I''d be last (thinking maybe he''d get tired). He beat the living crap out of all three of us. My body actually slammed into the lockers. Bruises all over my ass, I later discovered. And no, I didn''t even fucking say anything.
Are there cameras in classrooms nowadays? If not, we really should push for them to be installed. Imagine the horrors that would be revealed to everyone if they did.
In third grade you were supposed to be sufficiently broken enough to only have to go to the bathroom at recess. If you dared raise your hand to go before recess your name was put in a drawing of a toilet on the blackboard and you were that days'' "Potty Baby". Well, I was no one''s potty baby so I just shit my pants. Luckily I sat in the back of the room and when the smell started I just stared out the window like everyone else. When I got home, I got grounded from attending that nights C.Y.O. banquet and had to stay at my grandmother''s. It all worked out in the end for me because she took me to the mall and bought me an Orange Julius and Sea Monkeys (which never grew).
No Potty Baby!!!!!
In first grade, I told the teacher I felt very sick, but she didn't believe me and wouldn't let me go to the nurse's office. I soon puked all over my desk and all of the other kids gathered around, running commentary ("Eeew, gross!"). Nice.
Also in first grade, the teacher put me in the back of the room as punishment for being chatty, and my mom noticed I was chewing my fingernails off. She called a meeting with the teacher and I was moved forward and treated better. I've never chewed my nails since and I don't remember doing it then.
My 2nd grade teacher taped a boy in my class to his chair a few times and hit him. It was awful.
In 9th grade, my French teacher hated me and I wasn't doing well in the class. She called me stupid in front of the class, and said she'd heard I wasn't doing well in algebra, either (letting me - and the rest of the class - know I was the topic of gossip with other teachers). I'd been going in early every morning to be tutored in algebra, and once I got it, I got it and I did well. I switched from French to Spanish and got As throughout the rest of high school. She was just a nasty bitch.
It wasn't a teacher, but a bus driver that I still resent. I attended an all boys school for 7th grade (the public schools split the sexes for 7th and 8th, long story) and was constantly picked on. I was a typical nerdy bookworm and constantly had books about art, antiques, collectible spoons...it was obvious I was a queer. %0D
Everyone, from the guys in my classes to the guys on the bus picked on me. My arms were covered in bruises from the guys at PE who would hit me for fun. Thankfully, I had a coach who let me sit on the sidelines and read. We would also discuss his coin collection. He was a nice guy.%0D
On the other hand, Mr. Ferguson, the obese, poorly educated, Fundamentalist Christian bus driver, was a total ass. He proceeded to write me up for using foul language on the bus. I was suspended from the bus for two weeks and suspended from school for two days as punishment. The "foul language" I was using was "shut up." I was telling the other boys who were throwing insults at me to shut up. Mr. Ferguson went on to explain that I was bringing all this on myself by "coming around here with all your little books." %0D
My parents were livid, but nothing happened. Even the vice principal agreed that I was bringing it on myself and I wasn't allowed to use "foul language" to combat it.
Yep, I''m still a bookworm...
Tie Between the 10th grade Chem teacher that marched me up to the front of the class and announced that I would be changing lab partenrs because my other lab partner picking on me made me uncomfortable, and the college prof my sophomore year that stopped me in the middle of presenting to a 400 person lecture hall to announce that my presentation sucked and he didn''t feel like wasting time listening to it.\
On second thought, Prof. Lang wins. He was an ignorant fool, that constantly preached about the cops being out to get him and was too lazy to teach his own class. Instead of lecturing he divided us in to five person groups and had each group present a chapter in the book. Of course the entire group was nervous about presenting on material they were previously unaware of, in front of 400 other students. We all tried to get him fired, but he was tenured.
Also, in kindergarten we used to have nap time and we had these plastic netted cots to sleep on which were sort of like sleeping on uncomfortable lawn chairs. My teacher, Mrs. Tunabaga, would get very upset with me because I would often wet the cot. I later learned this was a symptom of the abuse I suffered. Any way one day Mrs. Tunabaga woke me up from my nap, pointed out I had wet the cot again, and proceeded to spank me. I remember crying and asking why then getting sent to timeout.\
Later, when I told my mom she looked at me, paused, then said in a rather matter-of-fact tone "I know she did, I told her to!"
My story isn''t at all as scarring as most of these, but it still pisses me off no end.\
In tenth grade I had one of those basketball coaches/English teacher/driver''s ed instructors for my English class. One of the vocab words we were discussing was "matricide," so I said "Oh, like what Norman Bates did in ''Psycho.''" And the teacher said "What are you talking about?" So I explained that Norman Bates killed his mother and dressed up as her when he committed murders. My teacher just looked at me completely incredulously and said I had no idea what I was talking about. I asked if we could watch the last 10 minutes of the movie in class sometime so I could show him the part where the detective actually uses the term "matricide." No... I was completely delusional and didn''t know anything about the movie. Not even a chance to discuss that I might be right.\
Bless you, Janette, for telling him he was an idiot in front of everyone.
R20 I went to Boswell too. My teachers were Mrs. Word and Mrs. Sharp. They were cranky old bitches but I don''t have any horror stories about them.
I had a teacher who just a had a real pick on me, it was kin to bullying. I was only 9, but everyday it would be something. She''d make me stand up in front of the class and read a passage from a book, over and over and over, nit picking at every single tiny mistake, encouraging the class to laugh at me for my "stupidity", ''til eventually I was nervous wreck. \
Everything I did was wrong or not good enough, she''d call me to her desk and bitch at me for 10mins solid poking me in the chest while she did it, while the rest of the class looked on. What made it worse, was she was so nice to everyone else. \
Once when I got a spelling wrong, she made me go down to kindergarten and sit for with them for 15mins because I was too stupid for my year, and I might be able to learn something from them. I remember feeling so humiliated and pathetic, shaking with anxiety and embarrassment.
I was generally a good student, but did struggle with maths in high schools, including that used in chemistry. I had finally done well on a chemistry exam and Mr Matthews hauled me up in front of the class and told everyone, "If she can pass, there is no excuse for anytone to fail." Not a terrible thing, but it hurt. He and the more evangelical of the staff praised and encouraged anti-gay sentiment as part of the official curriculum and were able to work it into the preaching that occured in many subjects, so that was not easy.%0D
I was told by more than a few teachers (as were we all from our first year of secondary school) that we were personally responsible for our loved ones going to hell if we failed to convert them. We were shown a series of films about the end days over and over, until you had 30 sobbing 12 and 13 year old go up front for mass conversion.%0D
That said, one very religious woman was a dear and caring teacher, and remains a close friend and great support after my mother's death. Thank you, Mrs Harridge.%0D
When I was maybe about nine I had a teacher tell me I could only ever be a rubbish collector when I grew up because my handwriting was so bad. Which actually everyone thought was a pretty stupid and petty thing to say since I was considered academically 'gifted' and considered the school's star pupil. I threw a drama queen hissy fit and declared I was going to be a legendary concert pianist when I grew up so it wouldn't matter what my handwriting was like.
The only really bad thing that ever happened (which didn't technically involve a teacher, except in their response) was when I was nearly 13 and had just changed to a new school. I was from a posh area and the school was famous for being pretty rough, and there was a group of girls I didn't get on with because they were very disruptive and I was very bookish. On lunchtime I was in an empty room writing in a journal (like, plays and film ideas and stuff) and they came in and started jumping on the tables, and I was glaring at them but writing at the same time, so they assumed I was writing nasty things about them. So when I left they broke into my locker and stole my journal and read it to everyone. Except it had lots of stuff about girls I liked (not, thankfully, anyone at the school) so I basically got outed in front of everyone. So I lost it and punched the main girl, and we wound up having a massive fight. Then I walked out and came home. When the faculty found out about everything that had happened, all they cared about was that some kids had been eating in the classroom, which wasn't allowed, and in the fight food had spilled on the floor and been trampled in. After that they made a rule classrooms were locked during break. The fact a student's locker was broken into, a student was outed as a lesbian, two students had a fist fight, and a student walked off school grounds in the middle of the day, they apparently didn't give a crap about. But OMG someone spilled chips on the floor, call in the Marines. That school sucked. I left a couple of months after that. Not because of the being outed thing, though; everyone was actually fine about that.
The school janitor, Mr. Yang, teased me for jumping rope with the girls at recess (I know, I know). I told my mom, who said that Mr. Yang had been fired from being a high school teacher because he had been caught in a car messing around with a female student. Of course, the Catholic schools put him to work as a janitor in a grade school instead of keeping him away from kids entirely.
Once when being called to the front of the class to solve a math problem on the board I farted when I got up out of the seat. The teacher laughed for a good 5 minutes.
My elementary school gym teacher, Mr. Glue, was always mean and taunting to everyone. I was a sweet little kid, bright in academics, average in gym. The way he pressured us and hounded us during physical fitness tests made me so anxious I couldn''t sleep or eat. I begged my mother to write a note asking to excuse me from gym for one day, saying I''d had a stomach bug or something.%0D\
When he read the note he just lost it and screamed at me and ranted and called me names in front of two other classes and the teachers. I remember everyone just standing there staring at me as he went on and on. I guess the teachers were too shocked to do anything. I was terrified and relived this for years.%0D\
He was gone after that year.
[quote]I farted when I got up out of the seat. The teacher laughed for a good 5 minutes.\
I''m going to have to blame the victim on this one.
This isn''t the worst thing--most of my teachers were very nice--but it''s the weirdest. My high school counsellor stopped me in the hall one day and told me how great I looked in my gym clothes. I was stunned. I had no idea what to make of the comment so I dismissed it. But I''ve never forgotten it.
At my Catholic grade school, beatings, slaps, ear yanks and hair-pulling was common punishment from the nuns, sometimes just because they felt like it. I was once slapped across the face and screamed at by one of the few lay teachers (who was an ex-nun) because when walking out of the classroom, I almost ran into one of the nuns walking by. This was in the late ''60s. \
There was one girl named Margie who had the reputation for being slow, though in hindsight, I think she was just painfully shy. She was mercilessly bullied by the teachers and students and no one ever made a move to defend her. It still sickens me to think about it.\
Today, of course, parents would be in an uproar and there would be lawsuits, but back then, parents assumed that if you were smacked around, you deserved it.
My ninth grade science teacher stopped his lecture, walked over to my desk and pointed at my bare arm. He said, quite loudly, "vericose veins." Then he walked back to the front of the classroom and continued his lecture.
Mocked my stutter in front of the entire class, who all laughed at me. She actually mimicked the words I had stumbled over in an exaggerated manner that made me sound particularly stupid, the way another child would. \
Everyone knew I had a stutter, I had to be excused for speech therapy once a week and kids would tease me about it, but never a teacher, and never in front of the whole class. I was too shocked and humiliated to do anything about it. This was 6th grade in 1980 or 81.
In what benighted backwoods in which forgotten century did you men grow up, in which teachers badly abused their students, paddling second grade children, and other barbaric cruelty?
Paddling was an accepted form of punishment when I was in high school...this was in the Deep South in the 1970s (you may remember me from the "best all around black" post). They sometimes gave a choice of being paddled or doing work after school for the janitor. And some guys took the paddling because they figured it would be over sooner.%0D\
When this was explained to me (I''d moved from up north, and a school where corporal punishment was never an option), I said: you mean GROWN MEN hit kids? Including GIRLS? %0D\
The one time I was sent to the office (I was defending myself from a bully in class), and the vice-principal threatened me with a paddling, I went home and told my mother, who called the principal and gave him an earful, along the lines of: if you EVER lay a hand one of my children, I''ll have you arrested. %0D\
My dad (who was in law enforcement) concurred with her opinion.
One of my friends said his 5th grade teacher took him into the bathroom and kicked him dead in the stomach for talking out of turn. This was in 1985. Not some forgotten century. Shit happens...do you think mental illness dissipates just because we live in a modern age?
It''s clear that some adults get off on cruelty to children. Unfortunately, some of them become teachers.
I wasn't going to post this, I've never mentioned it to any of my boyfriends or my parents or sister or brother. Maybe typing it here will release it a bit though, maybe it will be cathartic.
When I was in the 5th grade, I went to a public school in very rural south Mississippi. I was a chubby kid and really shy. I remember the group of popular kids being absolutely adored by the teachers. When I would attempt to be funny or raise my stock by taking part in something, it always seemed to backfire. The kids were somewhat mean but I remember three of the teachers seeming particularly cruel to the less than popular kids.
We had paddling then, this is early 80s. I remember being in a history or civics class and the teacher, I don't remember her name, was the girl's basketball coach. She reminded me of Kate Jackson from Charlie's Angels, really pretty, somewhat sassy, LOVED by all the popular kids. She'd have parties for them at her home on the weekends, etc..
I don't remember what caused it but during one class, I think we'd been watching a movie, she called me to the head of the class. I think I'd answered a question out loud instead of raising my hand or something like that.
In what SHE thought was a playful thing to do, she called me to the head of the class and said 'Didn't I say not to answer before I called on you?' or something like that.
She had me face the chalkboard and bend over like she was going to paddle me, the kids behind me snickering. Again, I was a fat kid. Not HUGE but, being at that age, I was particularly self conscious of my looks, especially being a little closeted gay kid.
As she bent me over, my ass in the air facing my classmates, she raised the paddle and they laughed, she was making some sort of face. With the paddle raised in the air, I looked around to see what she was doing and she was pinching her nose and waving the paddle across my ass like it was stinking. Of course I didn't have any odor, but she thought it was funny; and to the class it was.
She said "PEW WEE!" and lowered the paddle and told me to go sit back down and not to answer anymore unless she called on me. She never called on me of course.
I wanted to die from the embarrassment and was called "funk butt" by some of the kids for a while thereafter.
It may not have been so traumatic now or to the other classmates, but to me, I'll never forget it and wish I could confront her about it today to ask her why she'd do such a thing to a kid. Then again, I guess I should likely just forget about it.
Gave me a B in Gym after depositing many, many loads in my hole. Fucking asshole.
Speaking of stutterers, my high school eonomics teacher once mocked a guy in my class who had a HUGE stuttering problem. He was trying to ask to go to the bathroom and he just couldn''t get past the 3rd word "go". It was just "g g g g g g g g g g" to the point that he was literally spitting, and finally the bitch teacher walked up to him, made like she was opening and umbrella and said "JEEZ CHUCKY, SAY IT, DON''T SPRAY IT". Poor Chucky was crushed because he really liked that teacher. \
The teacher apparently said the wrong thing to the wrong student a few years after we graduated as she got bumped down the the elementary school for the remainder of her career which I know she HATED because she always made a point of saying how much she despised little kids.
1964 - First Grade - Miss Howard.\
We had just returned to our classroom from the nurse''s office where we had all received polio shots (before they developed oral vaccine). Miss Howard waited until we were all seated and then said "I''m so proud of you children. We just had our vaccinations and not one of you cried. Well... except for one of you, who screamed like banshee and cried like a faucet. And BILLY knows who that was!"\
Whenever I look at my polio vaccine scar, I remember Miss Howard.
Our school attendance was printed from computers, and for some reason the list only printed the first letter of our first name, then our last names without the first letter. So if your name was Emily Clinton, you''d be listed as Elinton. \
Our PE coach found quite a bit of humor in announcing to the class the result of this process on poor Frank Martin. He was Fartin for the rest of high school.
After I threw a large cup of Coke on a kid''s face since he was being a rude fucking asshole, I had to go meet the Vice Principal Mr. Lalle at a private all boys school.\
When I was explaining the story, the overly muscularly fat (he was also the gym teacher and football coach) douche who had a fey voice said to me "Don''t act like a sissy, just tell me what happened".\
I couldn''t believe it. The guy was ready to expel me for throwing Coke in a kid''s face but when explaining that he was being a prick and loudly taunting me in front of my friends and other students, it meant nothing.\
And Brother Cook was a major closet case, in my opinion. Utterly disgusting, and such a catty queen, she''d actually announce on the loudspeaker during periods the kids whose parents hadn''t paid the tuition in time. Drama queen extraordinaire.\
And Brother Pray--always wearing a mink coat, hanging out with the jocks. At least she knew she was gay, I think.
The football coach gave a speech to all of the 6th grade boys about playing football and asked everyone who was interested in playing to sign their name. Being Texas, every boy signed their name except a couple of us. The coach then shouted in disgust, "You boys don''t wanna play football???" Of course, all the other boys laughed and called us names under their breath.
What is it with coaches in Texas? \
Our boys'' PE class got in trouble in 8th grade. Our punishment? Line up down the hallway and lay down. We could choose sit ups or push ups, but we were to do them until we dropped out. \
The humiliating part? All of the available 10-12th grade cheerleaders had been invited to watch. \
I didn''t get us in trouble, and I had no interest in any of the whores, so I dropped out at one. I got called names, but I brushed it off after I called the coach a sister-fucking goat roper. Strategy worked. I got study-hall for the rest of the year instead of PE. \
My students thank you, Coach Browning. It was in study hall I got interested in academia. Enjoy your trailer and deer lease, fucksnot.
"It may not have been so traumatic now or to the other classmates, but to me, I''ll never forget it and wish I could confront her about it today to ask her why she''d do such a thing to a kid. Then again, I guess I should likely just forget about it."\
Honey, that''s why God gave us Facebook. Find her profile and send a nastygram.
Precisely, R100. Or find out if she''s still teaching. If so, write her school an e-mail expressing your concern that a teacher who devises elaborate humiliations may be inflicting lasting pain on her students. %0D\
She might learn something herself if she were confronted with it.
I was in the 4th or 5th grade when this happened (late 70s). Anyway, every morning a teacher would come out into the yard and ring a hand held bell which meant classes were about to start but before we would go into the building, each class had to line up in single file outside. A friend behind me said something to me and I turned around to reply. Well Miss Fucking Bitch Perrot took the hand bell and shook it right by my ear, naturally I turned around and as I did that the metal edge of the bell smashed into my brow, causing a lot of blood and a couple of stitches. When I went home and told my mother what had happened, she told me "Well, you shouldn''t have been talking." Nowdays, that bitch teacher would have been fired and I''d been sitting on a nice law-suit payoff.
I was in 5th grade. At lunch time, we all sat at long tables in the cafeteria. Each class sat together at their own tables. A teacher would announce one table at a time, and if you did not bring your lunch from home, you would go up to the lunch counter to buy your lunch when your table was announced. They would call one table at a time in order to prevent a mob scene at the counter. %0D
My friends and I really weren't paying too close attention to the announcer, and we half heard an announcement, which we believed to be our table. We all got up to get on line to buy lunch. All of sudden, Mr. White, a fifth grade teacher, came running across the room and screamed, "We didn't call your table!". He then grabbed me and through me to the ground. I was a small kid, and this guy was over 6 feet tall. I wasn't hurt, but I was deeply shaken and very upset. I didn't even realize that I had done something wrong.%0D
Word got around school very quickly as to what he had done. I was an "A" student and a well behaved kid. When I got home and told my mother, she went beserk. Both of my parents scheduled a meeting with the principal and the teacher for that same evening. I remember hoping that Mr. White would be fired for his behavior. However, when my parents came home from the meeting, they informed me that the teacher had apologized and that all was good. They seemed very non-plussed about it all. I remember being absolutely speechless that something like this could happen with absolutely no retribution.%0D
This happened about 35 years ago. Can you imagine if this had happened today??? Mind you he did this in front of hundred people including some adults. That imbecile would have been terminated on the spot. Seriously. %0D
I hate Mr. White to this day.....
"In what benighted backwoods in which forgotten century did you men grow up, in which teachers badly abused their students, paddling second grade children, and other barbaric cruelty?"\
You''re either hopelessly naive or live in some higher plain of existence.\
Or maybe you''re just an asshole. That''s it. You''re an asshole.
I have no horror story to match those here but I had a sixth grade math teacher who went verbally ballistic on me one mornig when he caught me doodling during one of his lectures. I was a constant doodler and had no problem listening to a teacher with rapt attention while I drew cartoons and random patterns. I''m sure it looked like I was ignoring him. In fact I was following his speech which to my astonishment suddenly turned into a long, loud, angry harangue at me in front of everyone. There was no defending myself, I just wanted to curl up and die. %0D\
Satisfyingly, the same teacher got fired later that year after he grabbed a smart-mouthed kid by the hair and shoved his head so hard into the window of the classroom door that it cracked the glass. The parents threatend to sue the school district and that was the end of my math teacher. What sort of adult shoves a kid''s head into a pane of glass?
If you ever want to read an entertaining account of horrible, inept 1970s-era elementary school teachers (in rural Minnesota), read Walter Kirn''s memoir "Lost in the Meritocracy - The Undereducation of an Overachiever."\
The teachers he describes would indoctrinate the kids, flog their pet political causes and whine about their personal problems in class. The kids learned absolutely nothing, of course.
I had some terrible teachers. Quite a few molesters in the bunch (not me but other kids) My gross 2nd grade gym teacher was "grooming us" and his test to see if we could keep a secret was to tell the class that he was taking us to Hawaii and if anyone told he wouldn't take us. I of course told (b/c he was creepy) and pissed the class off but it kept him from messing with me.
Other teachers were garden variety sociopaths, screamers and bullies. The worst were the ones who seemed to live vicariously through the more popular kids. They'd kiss their asses and bully the lower income or nerdy kids alongside the popular kids. So those poor bastards got it from everyone.
There was the teacher who told me I was going to hell b/c I wasn't "born again" (in a public school) the teacher who made my life hell for months after I corrected a mistake. The flaming algebra teacher who called me a "retard" when I was too nervous to do a problem in front of the class, he practically slobbered on all the twinky jocks.
I had a couple good teachers but even they were mean to kids who didn't deserve it. I don't put teachers on a pedestal, I have friends who teach and they shouldn't be around kids, too angry and stupid. If I have kids I'm going to home school them. Public schools are torture.
I attended Milton Hershey School, an orphanage in Pennsylvania, between 1951 and 1965. As orphans, we had no parents or other interested parties to protect us. Paddling was a regular, frequent practice, but there were other ways of physically torturing the boys, hitting them on the skull with a stick, hitting them on the shins, it goes on and on.\
As you might expect, a substantial percentage of the high school teachers were molesters attracted to teenage boys.\
What a nightmare.
In my sixth grade class, the tradition was that you didn't have to do homework the night of your birthday. The next day, when Mrs. Ryder (conservative John Birch society bitch) told me that that was only for good boys and girls who brought in candy for everyone. I explained that I didn't know. She said to bring it for two days. The next day I didn't have the candy. My father was on strike, and we didn't have money for things like that while he wasn't working. Mrs. Ryder went ballistic, calling my father a no-good lazy communist. She dragged me up to the front of the room and slapped me and hit my head against the blackboard. I started crying and she called me a little baby, a namby pamby girlie boy.
Then she told me to go stand outside the building until I could stop crying. It was March 28 in NJ.
My mother saw me from a bus and got off and came over and asked what was the problem. I told her and she took me to Sister Arthur's office. I was outside the office while they talked. She came out and Sister Arthur told me I was to start in Sister Anne's class the following day. I still remember my mother saying to Sister Arthur on the way out "Keep that bitch away from my kids, Sister, I don't care how Catholic you are."
I don't know what happened to Mrs. Ryder, but I hope she got run over by a car.
Mr. Weinberg made me button my top button and take out my chewing gum. Then he made my friend Dawn Davenport write "I WILL NOT EAT IN CLASS" on the blackboard.
No excuses being made here, but the madness must be from the work loads these people had. There were 51 students in my mid 1960''s elementary school classes. Most of the teachers were really great, but to deal with that many kids might be what made them so crazy.
R111, I honestly think that the profession attracts headcases and assholes. It''s a "noble profession" that people always seem to admire, not unlike cops and firefighters. I think sociopaths get involved in these jobs b/c it offers them a cover for being evil in other areas of their lives.
What the fuck is with you little Marys letting the teachers beat you up? If someone hits me, I hit back. That was true when I was 6 and is true at 16 and 26. WTF? What could the principal possibly say to you for defending yourself? "Oh, you have to just let Mrs. So-and-So beat the fuck out of you and just take it?" Good luck. \
I really don''t understand why kids used to take the beatings in the old days. I mean, I went to Catholic school in the 90s and they still made kids kneel on beans and I saw teachers step on kids toes intentionally, etc. but never any beatings or hitting/slapping/spanking. If any teacher had the balls to threaten to paddle me I''d seriously punch him in the face.
Sister Suck My Twat
R113 = Dawn Davenport
R113 - Currently on probation in some school district for hitting a child in his classroom.
In 1998 my mother was having surgery to remove a cancerous growth on the back of her leg and I spent the day at the hospital with her. The next day, my spanish teacher asked why I had missed her class and when I told her my reason, she said "what kind of cancer?" I told her "it was a skin cancer," to which she cackled, "SKIN CANCER?! THAT''S not so bad..." \
I wanted to kill that bitch.
In elementary school we were taking a test one day. One of my best friends was trying to get my attention to get an answer from me. I ignored him until I finally had to whisper to him that I couldn''t. The teacher heard me, took my test and ripped it in half for talking.%0D\
I''m a teacher today and you''d never get away with doing that AND giving a kid a zero.
R113 is also quite young. %0D\
Times have changed. When I was in school, if I had hit a teacher I would first have been caned about 100 times, and then promptly expelled.
[quote]if I had hit a teacher I would first have been caned about 100 times, and then promptly expelled.\
And got an asskicking from Mom and Dad. Grown ups banded together in those days...
God, I wish someone HAD hit R113 as a kid.
r113 is the fat fuck teacher who posted earlier. He just cleared his cookies. Now excuse me while I go toss mine thinking that something like that currently models behavior for kids.
7th grade. A lesbian teaching assistant was running PE for our regular teacher who was absent. I was fat, awkward and had no friends. Plus I had had a disciplinary incident where I punched another kid for mercilessly teasing me in art class. The lesbian teaching assistant decided to tease me in front of the whole class for being unable to do a floor tumble correctly or something. She says, do it again! Do it again! We want to see! I don''t want to. She is laughing and openly mocking me. The whole class is laughing and she is encouraging them. She physically pulls me her way by the arm, laughing. I pull back and say no. She reports to the Dean that I hit her. The Dean does not believe my version due to my history and I am expelled.\
I would like to think I have in turn extracted my quantum of solace from the lesbian community.
the guy who bought claire dinner
Pardon my ignorance, but who is Dawn Davenport?
Ooooh, R123! I got a knife in my pockeybook and I''m gonna cut you up after class!
I was walking home one day with this older boy who told me a bunch of explicit sexual stuff. The next day I relayed this information to a couple of girls on the playground. I remember telling them that "men like to take their wives panties off and lick their hairy pussies every night." I didn''t know what I was saying or what it all meant. Well, the little tattle-tales went and told the teacher everything I said. The teacher wanted to know where I got this information from. I felt so ashamed and humiliated.
R113 is Carl Paladino.
Well... my sister had one of those weirdo teachers who only wanted to hang out with the popular kids in 8th grade. Sis pegged the teacher as a freak after 2 classes in which she blatantly and totally favored the cute, rich, and thin girls. Read total Heathers orientation with a phony Texas twang. Upshot - Our Mom was great and my sister was allowed to drop the class and became the 1st girl to take shop.%0D
Cut to 30 years later. Mom's dead, my family's moved many times and my sister and I have left home to make our lives. All of a sudden our father is dating and living with this loser. It took both my sister and Mrs. B about half a dinner at a fancy restaurant to figure out their earlier connection. When they did my sister just started laughing. Wrong move. Mrs. B had never gotten over the rejection. My sister has always been pretty, thin and really smart - just not a Heather. Mrs. B couldn't take it and her bitterness grew over the years. She did everything she could to turn our dad away from my sister even tried to badmouth my sister to me - often. What a supreme jerk. My father was pretty gross too. He only liked Mrs. B because she was physically cute, rich and thin. Picture extremely thin and too sterotypically "done". Mrs. B's Heather act also became pretty disgusting. Add extreme homophobia to her moronic rants. "Why are those colored women so damn fat?!!! Tell me why." "I can always tell a gay. Always. But, tell me why do they want AIDS. Tell me that!" Cut to the present: Mrs. B is in a nursing home now and almost EVERYONE (2 of her 3 kids, the staff, my dad, and me)really despise her. She too far gone to make a sentence but she still favors white, thin nurses and staff. A white male doctor trumps all. Suprisingly my sister actually has some compassion. Sorry but this racist, classist, bigoted and now demented witch can rot for all I care. School kids deserve better than that and so do step children.
r118 is wrong, times have not changed. I went to elementary school in the 90s and middle school/ high school from 98-2005. Some teachers are just horrid. Maybe it depends on where you live though, I had the worst teachers when we lived in the south. I remember one incident when my fifth grade teacher Mrs. Brown claimed someone stole $7 from her. They gathered all the minorities at recess and confiscated our backpacks dumped them on the floor in front of us and trashed everything until she "found" her seven dollars.\
Never mind that I was the star pupil of that horrible school, or that I had recently received recognition from the principal for helping a younger kid learn to read. Nope, they violated constitutional rights for $7. Lucky for them none of us knew anything about the constitution at that time.\
P.S no one took her $7 she left it in her car.
Good lord, R128!
Ok, here is mine. I went to an all-boys catholic prep school during the mid-to-late 80''s. I was pretty popular, but not the most popular of my class so I was left alone by most teachers. I had decent grades, too. Anyway, my advisor was a tenured teacher, well loved, etc. He was also over weight and his wife was always putting him on a diet. Diets made Mr. Jasper cranky. One morning, before advisory started and he came into the classroom, I found a stash of twinkies in his desk. I hid them. He found out I hid them and threw a desk at me! Thank God he missed. Lesson to be learned - don''t fuck with anybody on a diet.
20 years later Mr. Jasper is still fat & teaching
R35 -- late responding. We moved from Beavercreek in 1980 and I have never returned to Ohio.\
I hope to never have to.
I had a math teacher in high school, who asked why I had been absent the week before, and I told him my grandmother had died (and showed him a note that my mother wrote).
And he said something like: yeah, that really happened. You better not come back with another dead grandmother in a week.
Just so damn nasty.
And in homeroom, which was essentially just taking roll and listening to the announcements, the same teacher didn't mark me as present, and I got called to the office, and my parents got called saying I was cutting class.
Of course, they found me in class, where I'd been all day.
Then he yelled at me for not speaking up.
By senior year, I picked up that it was all bullshit. One day, a teacher sent me to my locker to get a book, and I was stopped by an assistant principal (same one who'd threatened to paddle me) and told to get a note from her in order to open my locker and get my book. He said: YOU TELL HER THAT. You tell her *I* said that.
And I suddenly twigged that they were having a battle of the wills and said: you know, you two need to work out whatever your differences are without using me. I just want to get my book out of the locker and go back to class. Can I do that?
He bitched a little, but I got the goddam book and went back to class.
Made me solve a Maths question when I was high on LSD. Don''t believe me? Somebody filmed it:
Accused me of cheating when I didn''t.%0D\
I quit school.%0D\
It ruined my life, and it took a long time for me to pull myself out of where I went when I was only 16.%0D\
Fuck you, you cunt. I''m 46, and I still hate you.
This guy wasn''t the worst I ever had, but I had this biology teacher who like to bring you up to his desk and insult you when he didn''t like your work. It was done in a way where you stood there for about five minutes and the class watched along and laughed as he tried to make you look foolish. He was also a born again type and he would say around once a week, "This is what the textbook says. I don''t personally believe this. I believe our lord and savior Jesus Christ is our creator and there is no such thing as evolution." This was in a public school. No one wever seemed to complain.
I had a teacher while I was in my third and fourth class in my primary school which would have put me about age eight and nine, who seemed to hate my guts. Again like so many favouring the pupils from the small group of socially finer families in our locality, she also classed the wives of these families as members of her close circle of friends.
If you weren't a limb of a particular family tree, she seemed to treat you with a seething dislike. There was boy who she tormented into the dirt, he was dyslexic, but to her mind he was far too working class to be dyslexic, and was merely backward and stupid. After a year of constant hounding his parents took him out of the school and she was left without her primary target. Unfortunately for me, her mean cold eyes fell upon my shoulders, and I took the place of her pet hate.
What up to then was just veiled nastiness, became a full on assault. I was hauled out of my seat and made sit a the "stupid" table. I was banned from receiving treats that she would hand out before holidays, and always the day we broke for a holiday through-out the school year, was a fun day at school, we did no school work as such, but played games and drew pictures, silly things, except for me. I was made write out lessons, do maths, read pages of books and tested on them at the end of the day. If I didn't pass I was giving a huge amount of homework to complete over the holiday period, while everyone was given none.
She would analyse my homework beyond believe, finding something and everything wrong with it, she would rip pages out of my copybook, tearing it up in my face while staring silently at me with this contemptuous look. She'd routinely throw my copybook at me, more often hitting me in the face. Once she flung a box of crayons at me that spilled everywhere, under tables and sits, I was made pick everyone up, picking broken bits of crayon up from beside the feet of the popular kids, who would look down sniggering at me. She encouraged other kids to bully me, and sat back and watched when kids began to ostracize me for weeks on end. The worst was when one day, she stood me in front of the class and had each student say something negative about me, and why they didn't want to be my friend, and then said "You you want to be your friend?" to which I replied, "No" while I fought back tears.
My parents knew what she was, as did all the parents of the kids she bullied, but she didn't care less what my parents thought, and treated the parents of the kids like me with a similar attitude, this was rural Ireland in the late 80s, where being a teacher had a certain amount of sway in a small village, as a result, she got away with it.
One of the boys she terrorised, apparently worse than me, became seriously screwed up and later on in life attempted suicide. I have no doubt she changed the person who I was and robbed a huge amount of my self-confidence and my attitude toward myself for the worse. But turns out during this time she was married to a nasty, mentally ill husband who use to beat her. So I suppose I can't hate her as much as I wish I could.
Damn, R137. I''ll hate her for you.
Damn, R137. I truly feel your pain.%0D
I had Catholic nuns. I'm 48. They had a tradition of public humiliation and abuse. I was often "made an example" of, punched in the back,rapped on the knuckles with a"special" pencil, in just the right way, smacked on the back of the neck, or locked in the broom closet. %0D
She had a long pointing ruler that she'd use to whack a couple of us on our bare arms in the warmer months when our arms were exposed. %0D
I was never allowed to go to the rest room when I asked. I was rarely allowed to participate in recess or special school programs, because she gave me detention. %0D
Once for my shoelaces becoming untied. She said I was sloppy. Or maybe I turned my head when I shouldn't have. Often called to the front of the room and made to write some stupid punishment exercise on the blackboard in front of everyone, or to solve some arthmetic problem I didn't know the answer to or diagram sentences. %0D
No matter what I did it was wrong. A few times, She called me to her desk and made me pick something up. Then she'd throw it on the floor and slap me and say "Again!" Repeat that about five or six times. I was bullied and harrassed daily all thru 3rd grade. and again in fifth, by nuns.%0D
My mother'd say,"You probably did something to make her treat you that way! You probably deserved it." My father was an alcoholic. A quiet drunk who was disengaged from the family. He'd come home, give us all a kiss, and drink himself to sleep in front of the TV. %0D
He didn't often eat with us.%0D
Even now, I expect to be mistreated, and have this perverse acceptance of it. I've been to therapy and I'm much better, but there's still a small piece of me that believes I deserve mistreatment and expect it. My reactions to various situations are "off." %0D
On the outside you'd never know. I'm a pretty nice looking man, and while I'm reserved, I'm friendly and people seem to like me. Everyone thinks I'm nice because "so calm." Hah. I'm terrified.
I''m stunned by the amount of heartless and twisted abuse, I guess we now know why kids become bullies in school, they are thought it by teachers.\
Maybe we are tackling the issue of bullying at school from the wrong angle.
That''s been remarked upon in a lot of the threads about bullying recently: it happens because the administrators (teachers AND principals) facilitate it. %0D\
They let the impulsive kids do their dirty work for them and claim they can''t do anything about it.%0D\
And the kids take their cues from the adults, who favor one kid, or one group, and pick on others.%0D\
(I think I also mentioned in one of those threads that a kid in my class was denied membership in the National Honor Society because the teacher in charge of it thought he was "too fey.")
[quote]This was in a public school. No one ever seemed to complain.%0D\
That''s funny. My geology/biology teacher was just the opposite. He delighted in slamming Creationism to an excessive degree. He was like an older kid who thought it essential to break the news to the toddlers on a daily basis that there is no Santa Claus. %0D\
We were not a particularly religious community and no one in or outside the classroom ever made any effort to introduce religion into the school''s science curriculum. He simply led a one-man crusade against a Fundamentalist foe that was only present to the extent that he introduced it.%0D\
Great point, r140, really great point.
He had me stand up in front of the class and announced to everyone that he thought I was very fussy and made fun of the fact that I dressed neatly and took pride in my appearance.
When I was 14 or 15 I cut class one day and my French teacher saw me at the train station in Amsterdam. She then announced with glee to the entire class (me included) that she had seen me there. I wondered (and still do) what kind of misguided adult would do such a thing. I was naive about teachers, I guess.
I''m not trying to be insensitve r145, but what was it about her announcement that you found "mean"?
She wanted to embarrass me, R146. If she had been concerned about my cutting class she could have said something privately after class, but she wanted to "score points" with her students.
In second grade we were lined up waiting to go inside after recess. I asked the teacher who was on duty (not my teacher) if she believed in the Abominable Snowman. WHACK!!! Without warning she slapped me right in the face.%0D\
My mom let it slide. Years later my mother called me and told me that Miss Foster had joined her church. I said, "The one who slapped me across the face in second grade?" Yep, it was the very one.%0D\
She is in a nursing home now and in my fantasy world I show up in her room and slap her right in the face and say "DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE ABOMINABLE SNOW MAN NOW, BITCH?!?" Of course I would never do it, but still...%0D\
Then in 9th grade biology the science teacher put a snake down the back of my shirt. I screamed like a little girl in front of a class full of my most feared bullies. Nice, huh? I never lived that down.%0D\
R145, I don''t think your teacher did anything "mean" (or wrong) at all. You got nailed for cutting class. Using a little needling in class to encourage students ("see? You''ll get caught too if you cut class?) is an effective tool to encourage attendance, and it''s sure better on you than getting suspended or expelled, isn''t it?
Gym teacher hated me because I had a note to skip gym in order to work on theater projects. Naturally.%0D\
One of the times I did go, we had a wrestling "class" where this sociopath paired me up with a kid who outweighed me by 25 lbs and who was at least 4 inches taller than me and a real athlete.%0D\
The "coach" whispered something in the kid''s ear and the kid walked over to me and threw me backwards over his knee. I still have back problems, 35 years later.%0D\
However, the coach was in a bad car accident a few years later and lived the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Yay.
Sister Trinitas, 8th Grade.%0D\
She frequently would - out of nowhere in the middle of class- start screaming at me for wearing make-up(we weren''t allowed), calling me a harlot. %0D\
I never wore make-up, in fact, I was quite a tomboy, which made it even funnier for the rest of the class.%0D\
She would make me go and wash my face in the bathroom. It was embarassing.%0D\
Sister Clemens in 5th grade used to make us stand with our backs to the chalkboard and grab our chin and bang our heads against the board using the chin as a sort of handle. %0D\
That wasn''t so bad though because she was an equal opportunity abuser and it happened to nearly everyone eventually.
catholic school memories....
Sister Elizabeth hit me across the back with an umbrella until it broke. Thanks, ya fat bitch!
This is more bizarre and inappropriate and it wasn''t done to me specifically, but I feel like sharing:%0D\
In 10th grade I had a very eccentric English teacher. She wore flowy gowns (think an old, fat Stevie Nicks) and tried to make grand entrances after the bell had rung and everyone was seated. Whatever. %0D\
One January day she flows in and stops dead: "Who is wearing Lauren perfume?" This was the mid 80s when the perfume was new. "Who. Is. Wearing that god awful stench in my classroom!?!?!"%0D\
Becky V. finally raised her hand.%0D\
"Well, I won''t make you wash it off but you can''t make me smell it."%0D\
Then she opened all of the huge windows as far as they would go. The winter wind whipped through the classroom for the entire hour.
My Spanish teacher in 8th grade. My gay-hating jock was in my class. Students would often be paired to say the conversations in Spanish we were supposed to practice. %0D\
As luck would have it, I was paired with this guy. When I started speaking in Spanish, this asshole said -- in front of the entire class -- What is the word for faggot? %0D\
And the teacher gave him a couple of words for faggot. And then she gave him the subtle differences between the words.%0D\
Obviously, he then proceeded to ignore the lesson and call me faggot in Spanish. The teacher ignored the entire thing and actually laughed at several points.%0D\
In hindsight, I wish I had hit that asshole against the head with a desk. And I would do it to this day.%0D\
These stories make me so sad.%0D\
I was a chubby unathletic kid and you grow up realizing that the handsome popular athletic people will always get the breaks.%0D\
Gym class was the worst. I was in school in the 70''s and early 80''s and it seems like a lot of those gym teachers were sadists. I remember on gym days I would have a stomach ache all day until gym class and then after gym class would usually be embarrassed from being humiliated in some way during it. I remember being forced to do gymnastics that I had no skills for, I actually fell off the bars onto my back, I could barely get up and walk but I was so embarassed that I got up and acted like I was okay. I still am leery when I meet somebody who is a gym teacher or heavily involved in athletics, it just seems to be a place that breeds bullies.%0D\
I''ll do it. %0D\
Mrs. Lisa Leslie of Wessington Place Elementary School (now defunct) beat the shit out of me in the third grade. %0D\
She always did it after school when my gal pals and I would wait in the library before Brownies (which was held in the gym). %0D\
I have no idea what the fuck was wrong with this woman at all to this day. She just decided to beat the fuck out of me every time I did the Brownies. %0D\
In case anyone was wondering I did nothing. I was a nice gal back then. Very tall and skinny and dorky looking, but nice as the same.%0D\
To this day, I wish I could at least curse her out or something. But, I moved. The school was renamed and went through major flooding damage and all of that. I wish she drowned. %0D\
Alright. I feel better now. %0D\
r156, find her and let her have it, at least tell her off. What she did was criminal!
The amusing irony in all of this is that those nuns who became "brides of Christ" are, if they even believed what they preached, burning in Satan''s eternal damnation.%0D\
My 5th grade teacher - awful. If you answered a question incorrectly, he would turn to the rest of the class and say, "Class - one, two, three..." and he had trained the rest of the class to then say "DUH!" in unison. Talk about positive reinforcement. He also would form a special relationship with one boy every year - give him a nickname, bring him gifts, see them on weekends ... Happened every year. I never heard of him actually touching anyone, but even if that part never happened, it was still pretty friggin'' inappropriate.\
I was a really positive, happy kid until that year. I was always first or second in the class. He really robbed me of my confidence.
In 2nd grade I had this young "hip" teacher that thought she was hot, Ms Oldt. This was in 1973 and she had long blond hair she wore with a "bump". %0D
It was a VERY small town and my dad was the local service repairman. My parents married quite young and both were fairly attractive. Somehow my folks befriended this teacher and her nasty two children (she was a "divorcee"). I never really liked that we spent any time outside of the classroom with my teacher, but it did have it's perks. That winter, my mother took all of us kids ice skating. My dad stayed back saying he had to work, as did my teacher. We arrive back home and find he and my teacher on our living room floor cozy in the bean bag in front of the fire. Even at my young age I knew it was a very awkward moment. My teacher quickly got up, took her kids and left. My parents proceeded to scream at each other all night, capping it off with the first time I got to experience my father being physically violent with my Mom. The first of many.%0D
This made for a pretty uncomfortable school year for me. I mean I hated this woman with the heat of a thousand suns. She acted as if nothing happened and I was her "pet". I was never so thankful as I was that last second of that school year. %0D
First day of 3rd grade I am excited...new clothes, new teacher...a Mrs. Rooney. Bound into the classroom only to find that nasty bitch is my teacher again, she had gotten married over the Summer.%0D
I did get some revenge. I beat the hell out of her two kids for telling my baby brother there was no Santa Claus. My Mom tried to scold me but couldn't help but smile.
i let my teacher gett me stoned and watched porno in 9th grade, and we sucked each others cock till 12 grade, i loved it
Catholic high school. 1970. Math teacher/nun told this kid to open the window next to him and he couldn't get the latch to open. He was small and timid and a good target. She just kept getting more and more impatient, saying cutting things to him in this semi-hysterical rising rant. When he finally turned around and said "Sorry, Sister, it won't budge," this demented, high-strung bitch of a nun picked up a fully loaded flower pot, hitched back her veil and hauled off and threw it directly at his head, full power. She just whammed that thing at him. She missed him by inches and hit the strip of wall between the windows instead. It was like the thing exploded. Dirt, root, shards of clay pot everywhere. I was close enough so I got showered with the debris too. Fucking insanity. Nobody did anything about this bitch. She could have severely hurt the kid. When I told my mother she said she had the feeling "sister" was going through "the change" and we should be more understanding.
The dent from the pot stayed in the plaster the rest of the year.
In middle school we had a teacher who would throw the wooden blackboard eraser at you if you spoke out of turn or answered a question incorrectly. He would also slam your fingers under the desk lid if you did anything to piss him off. Other teachers used "the cane" which was usually a broken chair leg, or a drumstick. The worst was when you would get "caned" on your knuckles. Kids such as myself would routinely get called "faggot" or told we would never amount to anything in life. Talk about undermining any kind of self-confidence I had. This was from male and female teachers. I am nearly 40 now, and it has taken me all these years to get over it. I always enter new situations with a predisposition that everyone is going to hate me and pick on me.
Mrs. Paul (like the fish sticks) taught seventh grade English and she never let us forget that she was undergoing culture shock in the public school system since she had come to us from a private school. I got tired of hearing this -- plus I didn't car for math -- and began acting up in class. One day I put a wad of chewing gum in the door hinge and the old bat caught me. She grabbed me by the arm and started bitchslapping me about the face and upper body. I'm telling you that old lady had a mean grip.
I had this girlfriend back then, before I came out, and her father knew Mrs. Paul. He was a principal at another public school and the guy told her she could beat the crap out of her students, especially me, and that it was entirely permissible under the school code.
I think this was one of the best things that ever happened to her. She couldn't touch the little brats in her last job and so she took to smacking us like a nun after that.
A nun through me down the stairs. Her name was St May Edgar. True fact
Arg! Sister Mary Edgar
R53, Mrs. Dick was really an incompetent. The head of a school is the "principal," not "principle."
[quote] plus I didn't car for math
But R164, it was English that Mrs Paul wasn't teaching you.
Told me that, "class was great the other day because of my abscence".
I was in the third grade. I never did a thing to this woman - my art teacher. I was actually quiet, but because I drew "well" for a third grader, my friends wanted me to help them out. This infuriated her.
For the most part, my teachers were all okay. Some clearly shouldn't have been teaching, but they were harmless. The worst was Mr. Martin - he would single out certain students and pick on them. When I think about it, I now get the impression that he hated teaching, or somehow resented being a teacher. He retired early, which is maybe why.
The teachers were some of my best friends. Honestly. I loved talking to them. Some of them really helped me out of some terrible experiences. Some of my teachers were really, incrediable people.
For a reunion several years ago, a classmate suggested we share remembrances about "our beloved teachers." What a fucking ninnyish thing to say.
I don't remember any of my teachers as beloved -- I remember feeling sorry for some of them, that they weren't bright enough to get better jobs elsewhere.
[quote]plus I didn't car for math. But [R164], it was English that Mrs Paul wasn't teaching you.
I saw that typo and wondered how long it would take someone to pick up the irony of it.
Called me a faggot in front of every guy in all of his classes (he was the gym teacher) and told them "let's get this fag to drop out."
In junior high, everyone had a thing about bringing in those group shots of when we were in grade school and passing them around. My social studies teacher took mine from my desk and tore them up to "set an example." And he was a bitter queen, too. Thanks, Mary, for destroying childhood memories.
PS - I actually have respect for many of my teachers, and for all the ones who were assholes, a few saved my life (metaphorically, at least).
Teaching has always been filled with patient awesome people who make you want to learn - and abusive assholes who make you want to run. Same is true today.
2 janotors forced me in maintenece room after school was out, gagged me,tied me to chair, i was 9. they told me do what we say we wont hurt you, he slapped my face hard, suck my cock boy and forced his big cock in my mouth, pulled my pants off bent me over,vasoline fucked my ass and mouth ,taking turn,swallow cum,drinking piss. better be her mon and fri till 6th grade
i loved being raped tied forced
Miss Millette - what a stupid bitch. Then one day she wore white pants to school...and got her period. Happiest day of my life! Oh, I went to an all boys Catholic School...
Mr. Worm. That was his real name. Seventh Grade. This pudgy little man OWNED that school. He had a buzzcut and he drove a new Pontiac convertible which was always filled with goodlooking guys. He treated the girls like crap and had the boys stand on his desk and stretch up to change the lightbulb over his desk. He coached EVERYthing, even though he was out of shape, hence he was no stranger to the boy's locker room.
I was in 7th Grade study hall - the teacher was an ex-marine with a military haircut and was totally insane. He demanded COMPLETE silence, so when I dropped something on the floor he leaped out of his chair and grabbed me by my hair and jerked me so hard my glasses flew across the room and my scalp was bleeding. Psycho. Everyone in the school was terrified of him. Nothing was done to him by the school but my father threatened to kill him if he ever came near me again. And my dad was pretty crazy too, so I never had a problem with him again.
Good for your Dad R180. We also had a guy whose name was Apollo something-or-other, shaved head, muscular, tall, handsome. He wasn't really mean, more like gruff, but everyone listened to him on account of this one time a five-pound weight that was holding the rings together way up on the ceiling fell on his head. From like 30 feet up. He just kind of went down on one knee, got back up, and went on with gym class. Everyone was speechless. (And I think it made a permanent impression on him as well.)
twist my nipples with pliers and then throw salt in the wounds..and this was a christian school!
Mr. Elliot and Ms. Stone of DeWitt Middle School both witnessed me being harassed in front of their classes for being gay and both of them looked the other way. Mr. Elliot also taught us sex ed and when someone asked how gay people had sex, his response was, "Two men use their anuses...why anyone would ever want to do that is beyond me." I'll never forget that. Mr. Elliot: Your job was to teach us the facts, not tell us your opinions! Fuck the both of you.
Mrs Harriett Rudolph, Cleveland Public Elementary School Bitch. Horrible woman, spent much of the class time bragging about her weird drip of a son and in the remaining minutes periodically went berserk on one or another of us. She had her favorites and the rest of the class she treated like shit on her heel. Speaking of which, she had an odor of fecal rot around her.... some attributed it to her breath, I of course said it was her fetid pussy odor wafting out under her skirt. She was our school's Cheryl
What keeps you safe even among your own,
the numb, the haunted, the maimed, the barely alive,
tricks you learned to become invisible,
escapes you perfected, playing dead, playing
stupid, playing blind, deaf, weak, strong,
playing girl, playing boy, playing native, foreign,
in love, out of love, playing crazy, sane, holy, debauched,
playing scared, playing brave, happy, sad, asleep, awake,
playing interested, playing bored, playing broken,
playing "Fine, I'm just fine," it turns out,
now that you're older
at the beginning of a new century,
what kept you alive
all those years keeps you from living.
My mother bought me a red, white, and blue sweater from the Goodwill and my teacher made me stand up at the front of the class during the Pledge of Allegiance.
Edith Falco = cunt
I hope she's dead.
LOL at R181.
She paddled the skinniest, poorest boy in class and broke the paddle on his skinny little butt.
Spitting Sarah Singer screamed all day long. It was torture.
I got a spanking because I ask someone to pass the salt.
My sixth grade teacher flunked me on a paper for misspelling big words. I had spelled them all right. She had spelled them wrong. My parents just laughed and told me to be nice to her, because she was a dummy.
Because I couldn't cut angel wings properly with a scissors in first grade, my teacher made me stay behind to finish while the rest of my class went to lunch, causing me to have to eat during the following lunch period with SECOND GRADERS!
This happened almost 50 years ago, and I remember this vividly today.....you see the marks an evil teacher can leave on child?
My first grade teacher paddled the retarded girl in our class. I was six and disgusted. It kind of turned me off teachers for life.
Except I did have one high school teacher who changed my life, he never knew and no, he didn't really like me but he made me the liberal I am today. Thanks, Mr. Walsh.
Mrs Ellingson. I arrived midyear. My first day in class, she slapped duct tape across the face of a boy who had been talking "to shut his mouth."
I had never seen anything like it and could not stop staring at the boy. Whereupon she went ahead and did it to me too. "So you can see what it feels like." Sat in class all day with my mouth taped shut. Nice introduction to the new school.
This woman was horribly vindictive and tried to have me held back a grade so she could torment me for another year. Luckily my parents belatedly woke up.
3rd grade teacher. Spelling test. The word was "great" the sentence she used it in, "(my name) has a GREAT big nose."
okay yes my nose is/was big. But seriously?
Yes, they do seem to have a knack for going after the weaklings. In first grade, the smell that was wafting around the classroom indicated that someone had had an accident. Sister Marie threatened us all that unless the perp came forward she come around and look in everyone's underpants. We were terrified. After many tense minutes, finally, a kid sitting next to David V., the smallest and most helpless kid in the class--complete with thick glasses that often were held together by tape--pointed to David and said he did it. She took his arm and yanked him out of his seat and threw him into the hallway. We all heard his screams and cries as they proceeded to the janitor's closet and then the bathroom. After a few minutes, she threw him back into the classroom announcing, "I hope you're satisfied. I ruined a perfectly good rag for you!" A perfectly good rag?! Even then, as a terrified 6 year old I remember thinking, "I perfectly good little boy is worth a rag."
These stories are terrible.
Have any of you ever gone back to confront your teachers about their behavior?
Hate you, David Barnicle
The worst are those who were gay themselves. My big basher is now on the city council of a gay town after he was applauded by the school for so "bravely" coming out. He soon retired, moved to the gay town, and took up with another old guy for a very snuggly retirement.
One thing that resonates with me in reading this thread is that we remember our tormentors' names regardless of how young we were.
Did anyone else have a teacher who outed you to your parents? I had some scrambling and lying to do that day.
My guidance counselor simplified his job when he started my fall senior year conference with "You like girls, right?"
A reader can take that several ways, R202, since we don't know if you're male or female.
I was non-verbal until I was four. When I was five, my parents put me in school. On the first day of class we were expected to stand up and say our names, but I was so scared, I couldn't speak. I barely managed to mouth my name but my teacher was furious. Even though she had been told that I was still basically non-verbal, she started screaming at me that I needed to speak up or I would never amount to anything. I started to cry so she came over and shook me until my teeth rattled. After that, I was home-schooled for the next few years.
I found out later that, in response to being told that I was non-verbal along with a handful of other issues, her response to my parents was that she would soon put an end to it. My parents assumed she meant that she would give me extra attention - not shake the brains out of my head.
As for never amounting to anything, I was just graduated with honours from an ivy league university.
whoops, forgot to sign it: male, lead in every school play for 4 years, attended at least 4 proms (invited by lonely girls looking for a safe date).
He knew the score.
Yes, I had a rancid cunt of a math teacher at Marshall Junior High School in Janesville, Wisconsin. Her name was Janice Fischel. She was a crappy teacher to begin with but the she made everyone who didn't do well on tests sit in the back of the room. I know that doesn't sound horrible, but it was humiliating and didn't serve to motivate anyone. She was mean. And ugly. I hope a chimp ripped her face off.
Teachers. Sometimes they just like to be bullies. Some teacers actually pick on the most needy and vulnerable kids.
I have many horrible stories.
Some ass-hole nominated me for student government just to humiliate me; when the opposing candidate made his speech his platform was: "[My name] is not like the rest of us."
The teacher neither said nor did ANYTHING.
I realize now I wasn't like the rest of them, certainly not the ass-holes who went out of their way to be mean to me.
This is no way to make it happen, but when I dream of winning a big lottery I think of my school calling me for a donation.
Of course, the people I dealt with there are long gone and probably dead, but I'll say to whoever asks: "When I was there I was bullied mercilessly and people did nothing. So, now, I am going to do...wait for it..."
And then hang up the phone.
I went through 12 years of Catholic schools. 1 through 8 at one school, then 9-12 at the high school.
On the elementary side most of the teachers had full credentials, and a couple had Masters degrees.
In high school almost ALL of them had Masters degrees and we even had a couple PhD's. Never any major bullshit.
Oh we had characters for sure. One of the Brothers had this thing about pens and pencils. You could not have one out while he was lecturing.
One day the guy sitting next to me innocently pulled a pen out and the Brother, all 5 foot 6 of him, jumped up on the kids desk and started screaming at him.
Funniest thing I ever saw.
Had it been me I would have taken the Brother out. I was, how do I explain this, a kid who had plenty of defensive training, with quite a bit of offensive thrown in for good measure. None of my teachers knew about this, nor many of my friends. Not something you generally talk about to be honest.
He didn't fuck me bareback. :(
Reading through all this I'm struck by something we should all have realized long ago.
We are still using an 18th century model of education in the United States. Yes, a 300 year old paradigm of teaching.
In essence they are taught to break you and then re-form you. But the skills they teach, we're not an agrarian or manufacturing country anymore.
And of course there is a political reason for keeping schools mired in the 18th century. If we actually taught kids critical thinking skills, would politicians be able to get away with the shit they get away with now?
In fifth grade we had a psychopathic sadistic woman named Miss Tratnick. She once taped a slow kid named Dickey Olsen into his desk seat and beat him so hard with a ruler he was screaming and crying so hard boogars ran out of his nose and onto the desk in front of him. In front of the whole class. We were horrified. The whole school was afraid of this evil woman. But no one ever did anything about her. Snowview Elementary school in Parma Ohio.
I was lucky - tall, studious and academically smart boy - so rarely got picked on by teachers (kids were another matter tho!)
However: observed others coming to grief - still haunted by it...
Sister Cletus - headmistress nun at St brendans late sixties. One crazy bitch!
Really nasty woman. One day she visited my third grade class - and caught some poor kid using -gasp!- an eraser.
She ranted and raved that we were big now and shouldn't need to use erasers (wtf?) - and took the kid's pencil case and shook the contents out of the second floor window onto the garden below... I was gobsmacked.
Heard many stories of her misdeeds and cruelties - yet very few seemed prepared to take her on. One girl - just returned to school from a long absence being sick - had forgotten her sewing kit or something - and Cletus made her walk home in the rain to collect it. Her mother was one of the only parents to protest and not just accept the woman's bad behavior.
Thinking about it - jesus wept! - she was such a physically unattractive human being too. Just horrible! Urgh!
Later on, in high school, I had a bit of a crush on mr Moore - our English teacher and head of department. Fit, good-looking and very smart - very masculine. Really idolized him! Till I noticed he kept picking on - and was really nasty! - to a poor kid called mason something (or something mason - forget which it was). Kid wasn't stupid, but very shy and a bit fey. Pale and skinny with enormous Bambi-like eyes. I only wish I could go back and now give mr Moore a good talking to about bullying. Really made me upset to see him being so nasty and belittling that poor kid.
Ever since, seeing any abuse of power has always been a particular bugbear of mine...
My eighth grade gym teacher came over to my parents after I got salutatorian to (fake) apologize because his grade kept me from being valedictorian. He was smirking the whole time. He "got the faggot" and got away with it.
In 2nd grade I was out of my seat talking to another kid. (I hsve ADHD but there was no such thing in the 70s). The teacher grabbed my arm so forcefully she nearly dislocated it, dragged me back to my chair and slammed my little 7-year old ass onto the chair so hard I bit my tongue.
I told my mom when I got home and she was like "stay in your seat and you won't get into trouble." The teacher would probably be charged with assault if she did that to a kid today.
R201, my principal suspended me for a week after it went viral through the school that I had told someone I was gay when I was in the seventh grade.
My parents had to meet with him, and I was threatened with permanent expulsion if I ever mentioned it again.
Of course, no one else was prohibited from mentioning it, and I spent every day of the next six years being called faggot, queer, homo, pussy and every other epithet anyone could think of.
One of my best friends went to a predominantly black Catholic school from grade school to high school. As a kid she got in trouble and her mom had to have a conference with the nun-principal, who (surprise) was a haughty, nasty bitch. She tried to get cute with my friend's mom, who called her an "unfucked hoe" and threatened to kick her ass.
How Teachers Named Mildred Inspired My Life
My second grade teacher, Bostonian Mildred Estey, felt any accent other than Brahmin was below her. If she didn't like you, any sentence uttered was mimicked and corrected. She had a handful of us who were her special whipping boys (and girls)who were abused daily, and not only for our mid-Atlantic accents.
After I finally broke down and told my parents, my mom arranged a conference. I don't know what happened, but I did overhear my mom telling my father that after mom had said her piece, Mrs. Estey's ears were so red she thought her earrings were going to pop out and squirt blood.
The next morning at breakfast, mom looked me in the eye and told me that Mrs. Estey was never going to be a nice person. She warned that I would meet people like her all my life and to do my best, learn all I could and ignore her foolishness.
In 5th grade, Mildred Milliren took my absences personally and didn't care if I'd been in and out of the hospital. Her abuse took place between sips of coffee and reapplying her unfortunate red lipstick.
Years later when I was discussing my future with my parents, my mom asked me, "If you could do something to change the world or make a big difference, what would it be?"
And that's how I became a teacher.
I had a rather unfortunate lot of horrible teachers.
A preschool teacher spanked me, her name was Ms. Tunabaga.
My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Perkins sent a letter home to my mother explaining that I was mentally retarded and needed to be in special needs classes (I was not). She arrived at this conclusion after administering a "basic skills" test that was really an advanced placement test.
My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Provost was a racist bitch who snapped at me for taking a paper she told me to come up and get from her. Apparently, I snatched it. She then sent one of my writing samples to the school board as proof that I was special needs (I am not, I just wasn't the best speller).
My fifth grade teacher Mrs. Brown violated my, and every other minority student's right against illegal search and seizure because someone supposedly stole money out of her purse. I kid you not, they rounded up all the minorities and dumped our bags out in front of us.
Thankfully after fifth grade we moved out of the south. Though my high school principal did try to bully me into detention by claiming my name was some ghetto monstrosity and that he had suspended me earlier in the day. No matter how many times I corrected the bastard and explained that it wasn't me, he kept on with it. He kept repeating "What are you doing after school you're loitering" and "I suspended you this morning don't make me call the cops." The head of our high school's national honor society had to explain that I was an honors student and had stayed after to tutor other kids as part of NHS service hours.
My third grade teacher (who flunked me) was the worst. I was shy, had a fear of speaking in public or in front of the class, so what does the cunt-bag-battleaxe do? SHE MAKES ME SING! Me & two other classmates had to get up in front of the class for some now long forgotten transgression, and, in turn, sing the entire verse from SAILING SAILING OVER THE BOUNTY MAY. It was hard and humiliating.
Get over it, people. You're fucked up because of your parents, not because of a seventh grade teacher you endured for 10 months!
But there were other grammar school teachers that I thought were mean at the time but looking back I now realize they were kind of cool & funny. For example, I once brought a paperback of Ian Fleming's DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER (the movie had just come out, this was 1971) to my 5th grade class. My teacher, a slightly grouchy lady named Mrs, Dorsey, noticed the scantily clad ladies (Jill St. John, Lana wood) on the book's cover art, and said "What do you have there, Joseph? Bring it up here." She silently read the first page, and when she got to the part where James Bond or some other character calls a scorpion a "black bastard" her eyes flared, and her mouth gaped. She handed the book back to me and said, "What kind of book is this, Joseph" I replied, "It's a spy story." She looked at me severely and said very loud, "Oh yeah? Well, SPY IT AT HOME!" lol. She could have taken the book from me & kept it but didn't. God bless you Mrs. Dorsey. You were cool not mean.
No one ever said anything about being fucked up, dick-rag at r222. Just because people are recounting childhood experiences doesn't mean they are caught up on it.
And how does having a few bad class room experiences make someone "fucked up"? You must be an idiot troll.
Oooh someone hit a nerve r224
Died on my birthday after being the only person who was nice to me as a kid.
Worst: My 8th grade Shop teacher, Mr. Roley, took a chessboard that I had screwed up and threw it across the room, shattering it to pieces. I had gone to him to ask how I could repair it. Everyone hated that man. He had serious anger issues.
Best: My 7th grade English/Social Studies teacher, Miss Butts, let me sit in her cubicle and write short stories both after school and even during class. I would later take them to her and she would so gently critique them. She was wonderful.
My daughter's second grade teacher was a psycho bitch who would scream at the kids and would dramatically rip up their papers in front of the class if they made a mistake. My daughter had a fear of making mistakes that lingered for awhile afterwards. The teacher's gone now, but I wish I could track down the bitch. She probably scarred a number of vulnerable kids.
R218, your mom sounds like an awesome woman.
Thank you, R216/229. She had her faults, but she was all about making us understand the world.
After I said, "Are you still harping about that?" to another student, provoking the rest of the class to laugh, my English teacher stopped class 10 minutes to lecture me in front of everyone. She told me that if she had realized how nasty I would become when I got popular, she never would have written such a glowing letter to my university's scholarship committee.
[quote]Me & two other classmates had to get up in front of the class... and, in turn, sing the entire verse from SAILING SAILING OVER THE BOUNTY MAY.
But the song is: "Sailing, Sailing Over the Bounding Main."
Mr. Kimball. Social Studies teacher at West Jr. High in Minnetonka, MN
8th grade Social Studies teacher. Too close to retirement and his fat pension to care about teaching kids. He'd tell us to just read a chapter while he went to his desk and read magazines.
Thank God I was in the front row and could read the maps from there. Otherwise I would have never known where half the world was.
I hope he's dead now. He was a mean, mean man who had no place "teaching" kids.
When I was in 3rd grade the school bully made some crack about my dead father.
I punched him in the face in front of the class. The teacher didn't see but heard his screams. My best friend came to my defense. Our teacher asked me "Did you punch Norman in the face?" I answered yes and the Teacher said "Good".
I never forgot it.
I can't remember her name. But she kicks ass.
Who screwed *you* up, R222?
School's out for summer bump.
Made me burn my first porn mag!
When I answered a question incorrectly, she slammed my face several times against the blackboard so hard that she broke my nose and several teeth. Then she sodomized me with her ruler in front of the entire class.
I will never forgive Miss Beadle....
I was on a field trip and the big fat old lady, bus monitor called me a 'mo and I started to cry.
So someone put it on YouTube and outed me.
When I was nine, I got pulled out of line by the collar of my shirt for talking during a fire drill. One of the teachers told another teacher "The one in the blue shirt," so he pulled me out.
Problem was the bitch meant the kid behind me who was also in a blue shirt.
Billy, #95, was your grade school with miss Howard in Illinois?
One of them gave me the AIDS, another gave me crabs, another gave me the herp and the principal gave me the hep.
I waited till I was 30 then accused them all of molesting me and they all went to jail
My black math teacher gave me a 75 when I deserved a 95 he is so fucking racist.
Sr. Anunciata of St. Joseph's Catholic School in Gary Indiana, first grade teacher, was so nuts the diocese pulled her ass out before the end of the school year. She'd pull girls pony tails apart at the root till they bled, lock you in closet, throw your 500 page loose leaf phonics book on the floor and make you reorder when you can't even count, make you stand on tip toes with your nose at a point of chalk drawn on the board, refuse to let you use the bathroom, and wrap you knuckles with a pointer. Of course she was selective enough to only do this to the poor kids, or the non-catholics, or the one's with ex-communicated parents. To the children of the "house mothers" who drove the nuns around, she was a real peach, a completely different person. She was evil incarnate.
I was scarred for life, along with a few other kids.
Someone I used to work with who went to Catholic schools said that all the nuns needed was to be fucked. Well, here's my 2 cents worth--Mrs. Bitchface Youngs of Heard Memorial School in North East, Pennsylvania in 1962 in second grade, if you're dead I hope you're roasting in the hottest part of hell, if not, may you die of agonizing pancreatic cancer THEN roast in the hottest part of hell. And Mr. Miller, Mr. Wagner and Mr. Hamilton, I don't care if you're on your deathbed and are 110 years old, I'm going to take a ping pong paddle to YOUR ass if I see you again in this lifetime--yeah, I know, paybacks and karma are mean bitches. And Mrs. Bagley, I hope you liked that piss I dumped on your grave in the cemetery, I always thought you were into golden showers.
My 5th grade math teacher was searching for my late math homework (which the beyotch never gave me!) and couldn't find it, so took my back pack without permission and started going through it. She threw away all of my stuff, including my lunch only to leave books and homework.
Anybody have a good revenge tale? These are depressing me.
Wow, reading these I wonder why it is that teachers only need to pass criminal checks. They should be put up before a shrink for a full psych work up too.
My school years - never ran into obvious bullies. Didn't hit that until college and I knew how to handle bullies. It's called the pre-emptive strike. Works every time.
We did however have our cast of characters though all were pretty harmless.
There was one social studies teacher who if the class fell on a Monday morning always was film day. He was hung over, that's why.
Then of course there was Brother Stephen . He had one rule in his class, no pens or pencils out while he was lecturing. He was an amusing lecturer but never, ever take notes while he was doing so. One day a kid was chewing on a pen and Brother Stephen, dressed in the black robes jumps up on the kids desk and proceeds to scream at him.
I guess one of the benefits of being a mob kid is that the teachers instinctively knew never to fuck with you.
My dad died when I was in third grade, Mr. Lewis' science class in Mississippi in 1987. I was having a very hard time. Mr. Lewis approached my sister, my mom was a drunk, to see if he could help with me. Before long he was picking me up for school -- taking me home, etc. Not long after that he was raping me. I was so fucked up as a kid I kinda liked the attention, and the cock, but when he started with the anal penetration it hurt like hell. I will NEVER forget it. His cock must have been 9 inches. To this day one of the biggest I have encountered. If I knew where he was know I'd like to let him fuck me some more. Damn that shit was nice!!
My English teacher of Black African descent at a Catholic High School in Costa Rica, started to say with a truly nasty expression on his face how, when he saw a gay guy(such a creature he said) in downtown San Jose he did not know whether to feel utter disgust,contempt or just pity.
It was not as insulting as it could have been because he was talking to the whole class, but he would glance at me a few times as the only suspiciously gay guy in the room.
Every time I read news about how homophobic Caribbean and African countries are, I remember that teacher.
And how ironic it is that some groups that are discriminated against choose to show similar dislike to other discriminated groups.
My fifth grade teacher told me to stop whining. Up to that point, I'd had no idea I was whiney. It hurt, but I never whined again. Well, not publicly, anyway.
@ Don't know if this is good enough revenge tale, but Mr. Murphy was one of my 8th grade teachers in Catholic school. He really hated me and my friend. I had a long history of getting along with my teachers. I was a good student but a bit of a smart ass. For some reason, most teachers, especially the nuns, loved the smart boys who made jokes. All the nuns loved me, especially the principal of the whole school, Sister St. Michael, and the principal of the junior high, Sister Bridget. He constantly tried to give me severe punishments, but the principal would intervene and reduce it time and again. I could always appeal to one of the principals and win out. I remember one time he whined to Sister St. Michael, "But Sister, you always take his side." She replied, "Perhaps because it seems he is the only student you enjoy punishing." Slam!
I was really pissed at my second grade teacher, who had come back to school after giving birth. I did my assignments flawlessly, and got kick-ass grades, and when the report cards came out, that bitch put all F's on my card, just because I had trouble with ONE assignment. She sent me to the principal for it, and I'm still pissed off about it to this day.
[quote]Reading through all this I'm struck by something we should all have realized long ago.
Once again, LuciferTheLightBringer(authenticated) is Captain Obvious.
I was quite the affected 6th grader and was assigned a student teacher for a semester of English.
But this was no simple student teacher, HE was a homophobe. He scrawled over every assignment I submitted for any 'misuse' of proper English.
The final straw was when he wrote 'per' after the word sup. I politely went up to his desk and asked him what the matter was with the word sup. He said it wasn't a word. I said 'tell that to Jane Austin and the Oxford English Dictionary'.
He escalated this to assigning me a supplemental assignment 'to bring up my grade'.
I marched down to the Principals office and complained. He was moved to another school.
Years later, I was told he was a nasty CLOSETED conservative that projected his self-loathing on me.
May he dine in Hell.
well lets see, every male teacher up from 5th to 7th took me to the closet and shoved their cock down my throat and didn't back up till i almost passed out. i thought it was a reward, especially when they found me in the gym showers and bukaked me. that was extremely good. i remember to this day how my stomach swelled a little after it was done.
I was an incredibly smart, bright kid. I was reading at 2 and my older sister was teaching me Spanish at 3. School should have been amazing for me.
I was not anything closely resembling ADHD, but I did have my own approach to things and my teachers would have a cow about that. My second grade teacher called my mother to tell her that I had problems listening to directions. The teacher went on to complain up and down about the directions on a test she gave. I was told to check the answers but circled them instead, or something like that. Mom asked the teacher how I did on the test. "Oh, he got all the answers right." But she marked points off for dumb shit like that.
Another teacher took my desk away because I'd managed to accidentally mark the top of it. I got my revenge by writing on the floor. That didn't fly well.
Teachers either tolerated or lightly teased me, until HS, when I was verbally (and eventually physically) abused by gym teachers and the principals stood by and smirked when it happened. It took me having a breakdown and attempting suicide, and my parents reading them for filth and threatening litigation, for them to come around. I was able to do independent study and graduate.
But that didn't make them accountable for their actions - they didn't have to deal with the fag directly anymore, so that probably made them happy.
Sad thing is, as much as I love to walk and am active, to this day I get panic sweats in a gym because I'm waiting for that moment for someone to say something rude or abusive. It indeed has affected me and my life.
My fucken math teacher told me that , Iwasnt going to go to the next grade because i talk to much and that my cousin has a better cahnece because he has better grade then me ughhh i just hate my life
R255's entire post was just negated.
And clearly R258 is in the ESL class.
Home Economic's teacher literally threw a knife at me. We were working with stoves and setting timers. The button broke by accident and she flipped.
Actually it was the BEST thing ever done to me.
I had this bizarre looking female fashion illustration teacher, she was a laughing stock. She wore too short silver mini-skirts, she must have had 20 versions of silver minis! She also wore ill fitting blond Dutch boy wigs and big sunglasses! She wore the sunglasses while teaching, I think she was either on drugs or mentally ill. She was loud and tacky. I will never forget this hot mess. I have to Google her to see if she's still alive.
She was one of the worst teachers in this art school, yet she stayed years after I graduated.
One day she loudly asked me why I was in her class, inferring my work was bad. I could clearly draw figures and paint, but she didn't like the way I drew fashion, mostly because I didn't emulate her horrid style. This seemed to be her thing, to have her students draw exactly like her, which is not the sign of a great art teacher.
I transferred immediately back to photography. After graduating I became a photographer, then a photo editor and I've been a Creative Director for many years.
Thanks to that loony 'art' teacher, I've had a great career in the commercial end of the art field.
Had I remained in fashion illustration, I doubt I'd have the wonderful life I've had.
For what it's worth, I keep getting the feeling that my current professor doesn't like me.
I don't suppose it's been considered that some of you guys were impudent little shits who pushed every button a human being has?
Based on what I've read, many of you were obviously trouble makers. And while you didn't deserve having knives thrown at you or to be ridiculed unmercilessly, your goal was to make your teachers as crazy as possible. And...voila!
R265 told Mr. Weinberg that Dawn Davenport was eating a meatball sandwich RIGHT out in class.
My fucking acting teacher, Mr. Karp, told me I should transfer out of his class because I couldn't pretend to be sliding down a mountain in in a bobsled. His class was absurd bullshit.
BTW, it wasn't my fault. We didn't have bobsleds in San Juan, where I grew up, LOL.
By the second week, he started to single me out, saying, "Very good, everyone, except you. Try all alone."
He called me "nothing" and all of my classmates started doing the same.
I finally left the class.
Six months later, I found out that he had died.
I never wanted him to die, but I didn't feel sorry, either. In fact, I felt nothing.
That son of a bitch.
My bullet-headed, beak-nosed, Jersey City-accented, closet case 9th grade English teacher made me read the part of "Juliet" when we read R&J out loud for two weeks, and the nickname "Julie" stuck until I transferred.
Fukin kept me in for lunch and gave me extra work because I asked for an eraser
I was in 3rd or 4th grade, and was a little on the chubby side. This cunt substitute teacher decided to give us a pop quiz. We had to answer the questions orally, and when it was my turn, I gave a wrong answer. The sub then gave me an assignment: get a dictionary and look up the word "obese". She then used the word in a sentence, looking right at me: "You are so obese!". So my first time hearing that word is from a teacher as she's insulting me.
I don't even remember what this bitch looks like, but I hope she died in a grease fire, and I hope one of the images that flashed before her eyes is that of her thirtysomething self shaming an 8-year-old.
Mr. Brennan (gym) did not cooperate with my experiments in ESP and ask me to stay after school
It's probably very stupid to some, but I was in Middle school and had to use the bathroom incredibly bad. I was denied out of every period to go and used 4th period lunch to escape to the bathrooms. Apparently, my mother was signing me out so the teacher was looking for me. As I returned she (the teacher) called me out across the entire lunch room and yelled at me about "wasting 5 minutes of her time" and wrote me TWO referrals for going to the bathroom without permission. I should've asked, I know, but I couldn't stand it. Yeah. Sorry it's pretty lame compared to others. Your teachers sound like bitches.
[quote]I don't suppose it's been considered that some of you guys were impudent little shits who pushed every button a human being has?
No, most teachers abuse their power. And no one cares for your shit-stirring.
In 6th grade, I sat by a boy who hit me with his fist nearly every day, in the same upper arm. The bruising turned all sorts of colors, black, purple, brown, orange. One day I showed the teacher my discolored arm, and she refused to move me to a different seat and called me out in class as a "trouble maker." Worst teacher I ever had.
In college, I had an alcoholic jerk for Government. I had an A average but he gave me a D, hopped on a plane for Argentina, and I didn't have the sense (or guts I guess) to complain about it to any higher-ups, just took the bad grade and let it fuck up my GPA. Second worse teacher - at least he didn't condone my getting beaten.
I used to eat dingleberries out of my dad's asshole.
my social studies teacher has harassed me and my best friend through out the 7th grade year because we wouldn't flirt with him. he once threatened to spank me. he has called me and my best friend names, and is failing me on test he wont let me take. he doesn't even teach us. he sits at his desk, watching youtube videos, while we either get the answers off the internet, or we have to find it in the book. he let a boy physically assault my best friend, and she shouted get off of me, and he made HER go to the office for being loud, hes let girls call me names and push me around. hes the social studies teacher at clark middle school Kansas, he laughed when I told him that I hated him
I was beaten on the knuckles with a wooden ruler because some bitch went and told the teacher I was trying to copy off of her. It was a lie.
A teacher at a drama school I auditioned for told me, "Thank you Miss O'Donnell, but the part of Rhoda Morgenstern has already been cast."
Wasn't that MEAN?!?!? I bring it up at every possible opportunity to prove to the world how cruelly I was treated before I was famous. It's right up there with my mother dying.
btw, I watched "The MTM Show" obsessively then and now and so he was probably right: I was channeling Valerie Harper. But wasn't that MEAN?!?!?
I had to turn in homework that wasn't fully completed. My fucking mother didn't stay up late enough to do it all, saying she had to make dinner or something. The teacher didn't give me an A for the half-done homework - bitch!
R2. I totally agree. The good stories would far outweigh the bad.
take my anal cherry and not even thank me
When I was in elementary school, my teacher, Mrs. Goldstein, didn't let me get up and sharpen my broken pencil when the sharpener was literally ten feet away from my desk. We had some type of essay assignment due and she told me that my pencil was 'fine'.
Then in high school, my Spanish 1 teacher, Mrs. Witham, decided to announce in front of a silent classroom, "Good job forging your parent's signature!" When I actually did get it signed by my father, and she never believed me or even listened to what I had to say about it.
There are many reasons why I still regard her as the shittiest teacher I've ever had, but that one instance was just the icing on the fucking cake.
r282, how much time did you spend in prison for the murders?
She said i wash an asshole mixed with a cunt
My chorus teacher would follow me to work and sit in his pathetic Pinto and beat-off. I would see him there when I left at night to go home.
These stories make me so sad. I was a chubby unathletic kid and you grow up realizing that the handsome popular athletic people will always get the breaks. Gym class was the worst. I was in school in the 70's and early 80's and it seems like a lot of those gym teachers were sadists.
Oh the irony! Replace the words "gym class" with gay bar and "gym teachers" with "body fascists".
This thread just proves that the reason that stories about standout teachers are so inspirational is that standout teachers are so rare. Truly gifted teachers are so uncommon that they actually deserve movies made about them...
An unfortunate situation in the US is that the relatively low pay of teachers tends to set standards with the lowest common denominator - and most teachers with the rare exceptions are from the bottom of the employment barrel.
Every teacher I had from grade 1 to 6 felt the need to point out to the class that I was fat. We all knew I was, but I guess these teachers just wanted to make sure no one missed it.
My grade 1 teacher one afternoon made me get up and do jumping jacks. Every time I was tired and stopped, she'd hit my stomach with a yardstick. The second time this happened I threw-up. She made me clean the puke up with my hands, and throw it in the trash can. As I was doing this, she hit me on the back with the yardstick. This went on for what felt like forever.
It was amazing to watch the students in the class. All of them were laughing at first, but then they stopped laughing. I don't think I've seen that many kids with looks of horror on their faces since then.
I was crying from pain, and embarrassment; a few of the girls started crying; my friend Beau put his head on his desk, and pissed himself. The rest of the class sat silently watching this spectacle.
Years later, while going through a bad depression, and thinking of suicide; I decided to get revenge on people before I went. I started with my teachers.
Kindergarten teacher had retired to Vancouver. First grade teacher was in a home with dementia. Second and third grade teacher, (the same woman) had died in 1989. Fourth grade teacher had a stroke. Fifth grade teacher couldn't be found. Sixth grade teacher was alive and well, and still teaching.
I went to the 3/4 grade teachers grave, and knocked over her headstone, and cracked it with a pickaxe.
Then I went to the first grade teachers long term care home for a visit. It was a two hour drive, but worth it. When I got there, she thought I was her son. So I said, "Yeah mom, I came to see you! Don't you have a hug for me?" And when she stood to give me a hug, I punched her in the stomach. While she was on the ground crying, I told her I hated her, and wished she would just die.
I found my fourth grade teacher, but she was so fucked up from the stroke, that I couldn't figure out how to get to her while she was alone, so I gave up.
Found the fifth grade teacher's home--a condo--and waited in the underground garage. When I confronted her, she began crying and said she went through a bad divorce and took it out on her students. She was very sorry for what she did to me. I grabbed her by the throat and was about to drill her between the eyes, but I heard foot steps, and took off. I went back a few days later, and slashed her tires.
R288 Found the sixth grade teacher's home...
Sent me to fight for the wrong army.
Wow. The worst was a Catholic school teacher (not a nun) that would not let me go to the bathroom. I asked her twice and she nastily shot me down. So I peed in my chair. My dad came to school the next day and ripped her a new asshole. Never had trouble with her again :)
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