F**k you Ms. Hanson. Glad you lost your job for that s**t.
We were about 6 years old and the teacher told us to make Father’s Day cards. I went up to the teacher to tell her my dad was dead. She snapped at me “do it anyway.” So I was made to sit in class making fathers day cards to my dead father.
I was in a digital illustration class and we had a project to illustrate a monster. I decided to draw the parasites from the movie cloverfield. We posted all of our pictures up in class and he went 1 by 1 giving detailed critiques. When he got to mine he just looked at it and said “that’s a creature not a monster” and moved on to the next one. I got a C on that assignment.
This was the same teacher that accidentally pulled out the plug on the back of my computer after 5 hours of work on my final and refused to give me any extra time to complete it.
F**k you Gordon
It’s important to fight for what’s right and to stand up against injustice. However, the reality is that it’s often difficult to put that into practice. You’re standing up to (usually) trusted and well-respected authority figures who are throwing their weight around.
Though some educators make genuine mistakes (hey, nobody’s perfect!), others enjoy flexing their power and putting others down. Usually, it’s a sign that they’re insecure about something in their lives, so they try to make up for it by trying to control other people.
A teacher in university accused me of plagiarism and said she spent the whole night trying to find out what I plagiarized but because she couldn’t prove it she wasn’t gonna report it to the school. I wrote it myself.
My English teacher gave me a 99 on a paper. I flipped through, curious where my error was.
She had marked “egomaniacal” for word choice with the note “not a word”.
I asked about it, she insisted it was not a word, I insisted it was, and then I got detention for being insubordinate.
“How do you know ‘insubordinate’ but not ‘egomaniacal’?” I asked.
Then I got more detention.
Had a super s****y drama teacher in 8th grade. He was a recovering alcoholic/born again Christian and he would lecture us about it every day. He also targeted me to bully, and would ask me things in front of the whole class like, when was the last time I washed my hair, etc. I was 13. My hair was greasy regardless. He also gave other students extra points for imitating me in a negative way. Then on the last day of class, he pompously said that he thought the class was ‘a little hard on me’, as if he hadn’t been encouraging them every step of the way.
Ran into him at the grocery store with his kids about fifteen years later. He said hello, and I just kind of grunted at him. His daughter said ‘why didn’t she say hi, daddy?’ and he answered ‘I don’t think she likes me very much’. Yeah, you got that right, a*****e.
What makes us angry depends a lot on who we are as individuals. However, broadly speaking, anger is a reaction to some form of injustice. If you feel slighted, insulted, or treated unfairly, you’re likely to hold a grudge. At least, for a little while.
Unfortunately, some people hold on to that anger for years and even decades. It’s like a thorn in their minds. And whenever they think about their schooldays, they remember that particular teacher that made their lives hell.
I had a 4th grade teacher tell me “I would have more friends if I wasn’t so weird”
I have carried that phrase my entire life and it still affects the way I act around people to this day.
During the 8th grade. I had this english teacher who was around the age of 30 and was one of “those” teachers characterized as cool by my classmates and other members of the faculty alike. He told me to “shut up” for correcting him on something he misinformed my class about infront of everybody. Laughed at one of my then friends intrests and also embarrassed them infront of the class. Made fun of how I walked one time out of nowhere and said it was fine because we were “friends” and that all of this behaviour was appropriate because he was our teacher. A literal 33 year old man bullying a then 13 girl, despicable.
I had an English teacher in 9th grade. Our task was to come up with a scary story. The whole school had to do it. It was a contest and whoever was voted the best scary story was going to have it published and they were going to get an award.
The only requirements of the scary story was that it be scary and tell a story.
So I didn’t do the project until the morning of. But in that morning, I had an epiphany and wrote probably the coolest poem I had ever written.
Well Everyone had this long winded 6 page paper and they were reading it. It was my turn and I went up and read my 1 sheet poem and everyone loved it. Teachers I had never even talked to were stopping me and complimenting me on the story. Everyone said my poem was the most creative and sure to win.
Well flash forward a week and I was pulled into the teachers office. She told me that she knew that I cheated and plagerizef this poem but she couldn’t prove it so I was disqualified. I tried getting my home room teacher to back me up that he watched me do it and actually helped a little bit. But he wouldn’t back me up, saying I was on my own.
Frankly that entire school had a grudge against me for being brown. And I was ok with it. But that one incident stung especially.
Now, we’re not saying everyone should blindly forgive and forget, but you should think about what’s best for you in the long term. If that horrid teacher is living in your brain, rent-free, constantly making you flare up with rage, something’s gotta change.
Think about what would make your life more peaceful. Perhaps you need an honest discussion with your teacher, face to face. Or, barring that, you might need to let go and move on. They win if you’re constantly mad.
My Spanish teacher gave me my only C in high school. The worst part was he spent most of the year flirting with the girls in the class instead of teaching us. A few girls got A’s and the rest of us were graded on how well we played along.
This one English lit teacher made it clear she didn’t like me. I think it was because I’m not white. She gave me Cs and Ds on all my work. In years past I had gotten As and been invited on special field trips for English classes. I won poetry and fiction awards. I tutored other kids. I got special assignments because I was always 2-3 years ahead reading level wise. And it was the only academic I was good at. My GPA was hovering below 3.0, English and art were the only subjects preventing me from being even lower. Science and math were Cs and Ds I deserved. I accepted that. But this?
To do a test of my theory my friend who is white and I handed in the same exact assignment, a book report or something. Virtually the same wording, same thesis, everything. We switched our names on the reports. I got a C and he got an A. She was just grading me lower because she didn’t like me.
Turmoil at home and a general teenage apathy prevented me from trying to do anything about this. I just kept my head down and took my Cs. I stopped trying, I’d hand in stuff cut and pasted from Encarta and I’d get a C. I’d include hip hop and punk lyrics and I’d get a C. I even did 5 pages of the same paragraph. C. She wasn’t even reading what I did.
She prevented me from getting into AP English my senior year, as you needed an A- in the prerequisite class. I was furious. It was my only hope for any AP class.
But it turned out my senior year English teacher was awesome though, she was a genuine hipster and let me design my own projects since I had read most of the books on the curriculum already. She would burn me cool CDs. She got me into My Bloody Valentine and The Vaselines and The Pastels and the like. She gave me her copies of Naked Lunch and Even Cowgirls Get The Blues and let me just read them and discuss them with her.
But. Still f*****g hate the s**t junior English teacher though. She was morbidly obese and ugly as absolute f**k all, she probably died a gnarly death years ago. F**k you Mrs. S. You were a steaming pile of rancid dog s**t and everyone hated you.
I had a teacher in grade 3 who basically made fun of my writing. I wrote a short story from the first person perspective. She read it and basically ridiculed me out loud for writing in the first person perspective. Just asking why I would do that and for some reason making me feel really bad dumb for writing it that way.
I was a really shy kid and blushed *really badly* (36M still do) I already didn’t like expressing myself or putting myself out there so writing my thoughts out was difficult enough. It really turned me off of writing and made me really self conscious about expressing myself.
Living in constant anger is extremely harmful to your body and mind. We’ve covered on Bored Panda before how this can lead to cardiovascular problems, metabolic diseases, and even digestive issues.
Righteous anger can lead to change. However, the world often isn’t that straightforward. Usually, you’re forced to compromise with the other side and find more diplomatic solutions to deep-rooted issues. Shouting and talking about unfairness will only get you so far. However, there are other tools in your arsenal if you want to make an actual difference. And holding grudges for their own sake really isn’t healthy.
Had AP Calculus teacher in HS intentionally try to fail me because I was good at math. When his lies were uncovered, the reason he gave (in the principal’s office) was *women don’t belong in the sciences.*. This was in front of me, my parents, my counselor, the VP, and principal.
My counselor was so aghast at what happened, he spoke up and said if my parents were willing to transport me, he would sign me up himself at the local community college for the same class. Then I would get college credit in just a semester without having to take the AP test. I did it.
I then went on to get my BS in Mathematics.
F**K YOU CANTRELL
Ha. I was in 4th grade and was enduring a lot of abuse at home. I wasn’t the most hygienic so my hair was frizzy, and I didn’t wear underwear because if my parts weren’t hanging out, I just didn’t see a need. It was tight and uncomfortable. My teacher and her assistant were behind me one day during a test and started talking bad about me and giggling, making sure they were the perfect distance away for me to very audibly hear them. Saying I never brushed my hair or showered, and I was dirty. As someone already being psychologically abused by my parents at the time, it definitely took a major toll on me. As an adult, I cannot imagine how anyone could act like that with a child. I cannot imagine the depths of sadness and insecurity for an adult in her 40’s could belittle a child who had little control over what was going on with her life. It’s disgusting.
My idiot seventh grade science teacher, and I remember this because it was so ridiculous.
We had to watch a video on wildlife or something and then write a short paper afterward about what we watched. I was in advanced reading classes when I was younger and read my thesaurus and encyclopedias for funsies, so I had a slightly better grasp of English than my classmates. I’m not trying to brag, but this is relevant information.
This asshat teacher knocked twenty points off my paper because I “did not use grade-appropriate language.” I got a lower mark because I was using words she felt were beyond my grade level. I’m still salty about it 25+ years later.
I get terrible migraines with auras, and I have since elementary school. Anyway, one day in 7th grade science class I start to get a migraine and ask to go the nurse’s office so I can get my medication. The teacher declines since the nurse wasn’t at school at the time (I lived in a rural-ish area so the 4 schools all split one nurse.) and there’s a rule that students can’t take medication without being supervised by the nurse. So this sucks, but technically it wasn’t her rule. Then I have to take a test. The test is long, and by the end, I’m nauseous, my head feels like it’s been coated in fire ants and my vision looks like the psychedelia scene in Phineas and Ferb. I ask to go the office, so I can call home. She declines, and says that I’m just “trying to disrupt test time” and sends me back to my desk. I sit there with my head down for a while, before I finally get really nauseous and throw-up next my desk. This is apparently enough to send me to the office. I ask if someone can accompany to the office since there’s a double flight of stairs and I was dizzy. As you may have guessed, the answer was “No”. I stumble down the stairs, somehow avoiding breaking my skull, and go to the office to use the phone. As I sit down in the office to wait for my parents, the front desk attendant asks if I’ve seen the nurse. I tell her that the nurse isn’t in the building. The desk lady says “Well, she only left a few minutes ago. Really sucks that you couldn’t catch her”. It turns the nurse was in the building when I had asked previously. That would have been enough for a grudge already, however when I came in the next morning, I found out I bombed the test.I look through the answers and don’t see anything wrong, so I go to the teacher to find out what I missed. Apparently my work was “sloppy” and “hard to read”. I point out that I could barely see, which only served to get her to mark it up to a C- instead of an F. That class, despite my best efforts, gave me the first B I ever had. All because of that test. I had terrible anxiety at the time so I never even brought it up to my parents. The teacher was an older lady, so she’s probably dead now, but I still mentally go through all the extremely choice words I could have said to her.
My high school Latin teacher was a jock when he was in HS and college, and most of the people in my class were also jocks. I was not a jock, just a short, dumpy guy. He was always ragging on me, putting me down and generally being a low key d**k to me. The worst was when I had signed up for AP Latin for my senior year, and over the summer he blatantly transferred me out to a lower class taught by someone else, I’m sure purely because he didn’t like me. I talked to him and when he couldn’t come up with an actual reason why I shouldn’t be in the class, he grudgingly let me back in. What a d**k.
Didn’t happen directly to me, but to a classmate in high school, not the most popular kid, but he was super intelligent and had a great capacity for memorizing facts, details and the like.
During a class test, this classmate included a lengthy quote as part of one answer. Some of us included bits of it, but no-one else but him could recall the whole spiel…
Teacher didn’t just award him no points, but docked him points for cheating, cos no-one could possibly remember that whole quote, he must have had it written down somewhere on him. There were protestations all round. Poor lad threw his arms up – what’s the point in putting in the effort to learn and retain info.
Was only an inconsequential class test, not a graded exam, but I still remember the injustice of it many years later.
11th grade American History teacher.
Absolutely horrible teacher, and she was part of the reason I dropped out of school years and years ago.
There was absolutely no discussion in her class, at all. About anything.
Day 1 was read section 1 of whatever chapter. Write out the questions at the end of the section. Answer each question with at least 3 sentences, even if the question was just asking for a date.
Day 2 & 3, repeat of day 1, with the next section.
Day 4. Read entire chapter. Answer end of chapter questions. At least 3 sentences per answer.
Day 5. 20 answer test on the chapter. Each question was a freaking essay question. Had to have an introduction paragraph, at least 3 paragraphs supporting your answer, and a closing paragraph.
She absolutely killed my love of history for years to come.
Definitely not a grudge, but almost 30 years later, I still get a little angry when I think about how my first grade treated me vs. the rest of the students. I was public enemy #1 in her class no matter what I did. Randomly being punished by not joining the kids for recess for yawning. Getting called stupid for getting an answer wrong, while other students who answered wrong got a simple “nope incorrect.” Having a test taken away from me and given a 0 on it because my pencil broke. The list could go on.
Oh, my second grade teacher can just go die in a fire. She was a nasty bully. She bullied me directly in and out of class (and, even when I wasn’t in her class and she couldn’t do things like try to humiliate me in class or make fun of any mistakes I might make or things I might not know, she continued as long as I was at the school with s**t like refusing to address me properly) and she supported the other kids in bullying me by denying it even happened and then punishing me for “telling lies” or whatever lies the bullies invented.
She mocked me in front of the whole class. I corrected her on I.Q.’s meaning as she kept saying it stood for Intelligence Quota. When I said, “but my mom told me….” She cut me off and said in a snarky tone, “bUt mY MOm ToLD Me.” It was the first time I got so mad I wanted to punch a teacher.
My freshman English teacher Sister Rita. I always swore when the old b***h finally died I was going to literally dance on her grave, and I meant it. She died last year. I decided against it. Her days of inspiring bad feelings in me are over. I won’t be dragged down to her level.
I actually talked recently to someone I didn’t know in school who had her a different year (she taught for decades). It was validating to talk to someone who felt exactly the way I did, that bullying and cutting down people that age, who are as vulnerable and full of self doubt as they will ever be in their entire lives, is nothing short of vile. Most people who went to that school would tell you she’s hard on you as a freshman, but by the time you’re a senior you will love her. I never did. I believe she was a bad person. I was glad to finally run across someone who felt the same way.
So, how do you spell ” eye / I “? , well it turns out, that if you are a girl, then you got the answer correct, and if you are a boy, then you got the answer wrong, regardless of what you wrote.
F**k you Mrs gilchrist. Yes all us boys were happy when you slipped and broke a tooth.
My grade one teacher told me I was “fired” because I didn’t do my homework. She also took my birthday toy that I brought to class after Christmas break and said “Nice, now I have a toy for my grandson”. F**k you Ms. Chrichelo, I hope you’re burning in hell.
In 6th grade I had a science teacher who didn’t like me and would give me detention almost daily. I don’t know why, I was a good student, did my homework, was on the honor roll, rarely got into any kind of trouble. But she would find a reason to give me detention, this was over 20 years ago at this point, but the two reasons I remember most vividly were:
Accusing me of having a girl do my homework for me (I have good penmanship for a guy and she knew this from having seen my homework and tests for months at this point.)
Calling me out in front of the entire class for talking, when we were doing a group project.
After weeks of my dad getting pissed about having to make 2 trips up to the school for my brother and then myself he demanded to know why I was getting in so much trouble. I couldn’t give him an answer because I didn’t know why she had such an issue with me, my dad called the school. As it turned out, apparently she couldn’t give much of an explanation as to why I was receiving detention either. My dad proceeded to cuss her out (her words) and I never received detention from her again.
I think she just liked having some sort of control over me and having me sit in her empty classroom as she would leave the room and just check on me every 10 minutes or so was just for kicks.
I was not studying my freshman year of High School and failing my classes. My father died during the year. It was a school run by “brothers”. Not priests but some kind of religious figures. When I returned to school after the funeral “Brother John” The principle called me to the office and said “You’re being expelled. Your father would be ASHAMED of you. You are not *leaving*, you’re being *THROWN OUT*. Get out of my office.”
I had a teacher who assigned us an essay where he had to approve the article we used to analyze. I took mine to him and he said go ahead – they weren’t the best articles but he would accept them for the assignment.
But he was known to be very picky, so when I asked him why I failed (after writing it, editing it, and taking it to the writing center 3 times for review)…he said that the article I chose was a bad one.
I had to rewrite the paper, and got a D as an improvement. I was a student who was a perfectionist and hated even getting a C. A’s and B’s were fine. But I could not stand getting low grades.
To this day, I still can’t stand that teacher.
Wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom on my period. I was 14 and really heavy and still navigating having a period in the first place. Told her that I was on and I had leaked she didnt care. Cried to her, didn’t matter. Other classmates told her to let me go and she wouldn’t. Got home and I was an absolute mess, my mum went bonkers.
Frustratingly now I’m an adult I’d never let that happen, I’d just go to the toilet. But at 14 I was so scared of getting in trouble at school I just stayed put.
my grade 7 homeroom teacher. one morning i was the first one to enter the classroom. she glanced at me with a flat dead face and said “you are the most boring student I’ve ever had” and went back to her work. i was really floored, like i thought I was just the “normal” kid and she liked that up until then. she was obviously having a s****y morning. fortunately we moved the next year and i left that school but it genuinely hurt my feelings, lol. f*****g c**t.
Oh boy my time to shine! Where do I start?
She was a Spanish teacher in high school. I was in her advanced class.
– she forced the class to run laps around the building because it was a Monday morning and we weren’t responding quick enough for her. I was very overweight at the time and it was humiliating.
– she liked to play a game she invented called “conjugation bootcamp” in which you’d have 3 seconds to conjugate a verb she gave you or else you’d have to do 10 pushups, sit-ups, or squats, increasing by 10 every time you were wrong. Again, overweight and embarrassing.
– she was incredibly short but had a massive ego, and looked down on people when they were sitting in their desks. She had an overall demeaning way of speaking to you. Hilariously enough, she used to wear very tall high heels and I was still taller than her when I stood up. I could tell she was annoyed that she had to look up to me.
– she basically called me a loser with no friends when I said I was interested in a class trip to the Dominican Republic, and that I didn’t get along with the other students going. She also questioned my speaking ability, and said “it’s really hot out all the time and we do a lot of walking on this trip” essentially calling me a bad student, anti social, and fat.
– forced everyone to give a long presentation in Spanish alone, which was horrible for me and my friend who has severe social anxiety. She literally vomited the morning of the presentation but was still forced to do it.
– she loved picking on the shy students and forcing them to speak in front of the class.
– my best friend’s therapist knew who the teacher was before she even said her name. Several other students in the past had brought her up.
– probably the most heinous, she made us watch Bee Movie in Spanish.
She made me hate her class and learning Spanish so much I didn’t take it senior year.
F**k you, Mrs. Winslow.
My high school Lit teacher was OBSESSED with Planet of the Apes. Like if you had a class with him, guaranteed, you’d watch it at least once during the year, and he would frequently compare the books he assigned in class to the film. He was also VERY against students using state-of-being verbs (is, are, was, and were) to the point where you couldn’t use any of them in any of the assignments you did for him and if you did you would lose points for each instance of them. Many students struggled with this restriction, myself included because he didn’t give us any real tips or direction on how to write effectively without them leading to some literary gymnastics to avoid using them instead of actual better writing. He also just generally didn’t seem to like me.
So when I wanted to take AP Literature my senior year of high school, it required a minimum of 90 in all your English classes to get in. I’d gotten 99 or 100 in all of my classes the previous three years EXCEPT for his class, in which I’d gotten an 89. As a result, I was required to take an online AP Lit Prep class over the summer, and as long as I got an 85 in that class I could take AP Lit. Of course, he taught both AP Lit and the Prep class, so I was worried about whether whatever issue he had with me would manifest, but I worked hard on the essays for the class.
Somehow, in a nearly statistically impossible outcome, he gave me an 83 on 5 essays in a row, meaning I didn’t qualify for AP Lit because the minimum grade to get in was an 85. Even more insulting, I tried to appeal to his love of cult films in one of my essays by comparing the auditory hallucinations of the main character in one of the books we were reading, Camus’ The Fall, to a scene in one of my favorite films, Carrie. He wrote in the notes how I should be ashamed that I compared “the literary genius of Albert Camus to a B-movie based on an airport novel.” If that wasn’t bad enough, two sentences later in his notes on my paper he drew a comparison to Planet of the Apes.
Luckily my mom pointed out how absurd it was and how it was a pretty transparent attempt to keep me out of the class so I got to take it anyway.
F**k you and your guacamole, Mr. G.
I think I posted this once before on a similar question… but here you go. Clearly I still hold a grudge:
I had a teacher for Kindergarten (in 1980) that I absolutely loved! I certainly can’t remember all the details on why I thought she was so great… I just very much remember that even going into the next couple years, I always compared my teachers to her and she always stayed my favorite.
Also… I LOVED space… from that kindergarten year onward, I made no secret that I wanted to be an astronaut. When we studied the planets I was enraptured… when we covered anything having to do with space, stars, galaxies… I was in my happy place. We had coloring sheets for the surface of each planet, and I remember coloring them, then asking for more copies, and coloring them again. I remember when the first Space Shuttle took off, and from that day on, that’s what I drew… all the time… non-stop… the Space Shuttle. For school work… for fun… I was gong to ride in that thing some day… so I drew the thing I loved!
In 4th grade, 2 of the most amazing things happened… my absolute favorite teacher, moved up from kindergarten and I got her again for 4th grade, and [NASA announced the Young Astronauts Program](https://www.reaganlibrary.gov/archives/speech/remarks-white-house-ceremony-launching-young-astronaut-program)! Not only that, but MY teacher was going to be starting the first ever Young Astronauts Program at our school! The day she handed out the applications, I was in heaven. It was a scene straight out of a Christmas Story, where I sat writing out my “theme” on why I wanted to join the Young Astronauts. I wrote and I wrote, and I remember going over onto the back of the page because I had more to say than would fit. How could they give us such few lines to write on?! This was about space and being an astronaut!!!
The following week came and the day finally arrived when they were announcing who made it. I’ll be honest, it never once even crossed my mind that I wouldn’t get accepted. But, MY teacher… the one who was my favorite… the one who knew me for 5 years, knew my love of space, praised my drawings of the space shuttle, encouraged me in science and math… that… person… accepted just about every single other kid in that school that applied, except for me.
People use the word devastated a lot to describe how they feel after something bad happens… but I cannot imagine there was a better word to describe my 10yr old self on that day. Watching my best friend… my first crush… and the kid I hated most in class… all make it into the group I wanted to be a part of more than anything else. And the part that made her the a*s in my story, was that she absolutely refused to say why. I asked… I begged… to know what I did wrong. I know I asked her why I wasn’t good enough? And I never got an answer… no reassurance of any kind that I can remember. I don’t think I ever drew another pic of the Shuttle after that. Actually, I did draw one more. 2 years after this, The Challenger exploded. I remember drawing one more shuttle for them…
So, I hate authoritarian teachers – the kind who exert classroom control by monitoring and enforcing minor rules to the fullest extent the system allows.
The kind of teacher who makes a rule that you have to prop the automatically locking door open with the trash can when you leave for the bathroom, and if you forget, she’ll refuse to open it for you, and literally make you wait outside for the rest of the class, while nobody else can use the bathroom because you have the only hall pass.
The kind of teacher who creates byzantine formatting rules for assignments, and will reject your paper and give you a zero for using footnotes instead of endnotes.
The kind of teacher who who insists that you only sit quietly when you’ve finished your work, and will hand out detentions for pulling out a personal book to read if you finish early.
I watched this woman shout a student into tears, yelling that she, “would have the last word!” as the student cried and kept responding, “okay.”
The student wasn’t talking back. They were just in shock, and instinctively responding with obedience to the teacher shouting at them – but this woman took it as an affront to her authority because “okay” was technically the student “having the last word,” and so she continued to berate the student and shout that the last word would be her’s until there was nothing but stunned silence across the class.
I’ll never forgive that frigid b***h for the psychological abuse she subjected us all to so that she could stroke her own authoritarian ego.
I’m a middle aged professional now and I still see red when I think about some of the teachers I had in school.
I wrote about this recently in another thread, but I’ll repeat the high points.
1. 11th grade, Calculus III.
2. Handed in homework, teacher noticed one answer without work.
3. Teacher questioned me, basically accusing me of looking the answer up in the back of the book to save time.
4. “No, Mr Q. I did that one in my head.”
5. Teacher: “Class, we have a genius on our hands! Mr. S can do calculus in his head!”, trying to humiliate me.
6. Teacher writes a similar problem on the chalkboard, challenges me to answer it without writing anything down.
7. I give the answer after working it out in my mind.
8. Teacher works the problem out on the board and arrives at an answer which is different from the one I had stated. He turns smugly toward me.
9. “Mr Q, that answer is wrong.”
10. Teacher: “Ah, so now Mr S knows better than his calculus professor, who has a Master’s degree in mathematics! Amazing!”
11. Teacher hands chalk to me.
12. I go to the board, work the problem step-by-step, reaching the point where he’d made a simple, albeit critical, operational error.
13. Others in the class who “get” calculus gasp audibly.
14. I finish the problem, arriving at the correct answer, the same one that I had given after working it out in my head and answering him.
15. Teacher: “Take your SEAT, Mr S!”
16. Teacher proceeds to bully me in front of the class for weeks afterward.
17. I write a formal complaint to the Principal, the Math Department, and the County Superintendent of Schools.
18. Teacher is given an official reprimand in his record.
19. Teacher never apologizes nor acknowledges his error ever again.
Believe it or not, the above is shorter than the post I wrote a while back. Quotes are paraphrased, obviously… it was 33 years ago.
I’ve shared this before, but back in grade school I had two really close friends named Juan and Nick. [Here is a picture](https://i.imgur.com/Kv9IWWf.jpg) I love of us at the circus with me in the front, then Juan, and then Nick. The three of us were really close and bonded of our shared nerdy interests of reading, Star Wars, and The Simpsons. We also really enjoyed drawing.
I don’t remember how it started exactly, but we ended up making this notebook that we passed back and forth between us. It was a comic about a guy named Tom and his cat. We would each take turns doing a strip of a few panels and then hand it over. [Here is a quick drawing I did of Tom on my phone](https://i.imgur.com/atgHmod.png) so you can get an idea of what he looked like. The comic was about the everyday life of Tom and it was extremely mundane. It was things like Tom tries to decide on a shirt or Tom dropped the cat food on the floor. It was really dumb stuff, but the three of us found it incredibly hilarious because we were weird kids.
One day our teacher caught us with the notebook and confiscated it from us. She never said a word about it, but I bet when she looked through that thing she probably thought it was the weirdest f*****g thing ever, especially since we were laughing hysterically at it when she took it from us. We never got that notebook back because apparently she lost it.
Over 20 years later and I’m still mad about that because I would love to be able to look at the dumb comics we made and because of her that are gone forever.
Had a teacher when I was 9 who was low-key verbally abusive in front of the whole class now that I look back. I used to be a chubby kid, and one time I didn’t do my homework and something flipped in her. She yelled at me like a banshee, and started aggressively flipping the pages in my book pointing at how I didn’t do the homework, where some of the pages tore. She then proceeded to scream and tell me “you’re so fat busy stuffing your face with sandwiches which is why you couldn’t do your homework, YOU’RE SO FAT!”. Then had me stand at the back of the class with my hands in the air as punishment for the duration of the 45 min class lol. I told my parents about it and when they confronted her the next day she very calmly and sweetly told them “I don’t recollect such an incident happening, I’m sorry”
F**k that b***h lol
My 5th grade teacher had previously taught my older sister and just transferred the grudge over to me. My sister wasn’t even that bad, she just didn’t turn in all her homework assignments (she had just immigrated over to the US and was having trouble acclimating).
Anywho, I needed a recommendation letter to go to an advanced middle school and she went out of her way to write a letter saying I wasn’t smart enough to go. Luckily the guidance counselor saw it and got all my previous teachers to write recommendations as well. She was so petty, she even confiscated my books because I would quietly read after finishing my work. After that I thought, “hey I’ll help my classmates out instead,” but then she gave me detention for being disruptive.
To this day even my mom has no idea why she hated me so much. I was a problem child in the sense that I was kinda bored in school so I’d do my homework during class but I was never disruptive. Ms. Murray you suck but you taught me that not every adult deserves respect just because they’re older.
Had a sixth grade social studies and homeroom teacher who was super charming and kind, and even made a point to boast about how his “fuse went all the way around the room” in regard to his temper/patience. And then one day when the class made him mad over something the day before, he’d barge into class and spend the whole period verbally abusing the entire class, hitting things with his fist, being irrationally mad. And then the next day he’d be back to being all Bob Ross like it never happened. This happened like 4 more times in the school year just to my class. When he did it to other classes, you could easily hear him going off if you shared a wall with his classroom, and even down the hall.
I was a good kid, and I took it very personally. I’d never been yelled at like that my whole life. I became viscerally afraid of him, horribly anxious, and angry that I had to be subjected to his verbal abuse after having done nothing wrong. I hated the unpredictability of it all too. I’m pretty sure my experience with this man shattered any respect for authority and unlocked something dark in me.
Now that I’m much much older, I’m still mad that nobody in the school intervened to put a stop to his behavior. None of the aides, none of the adjacent teachers, nobody in administration. They knew it was happening. I’d like to think that s**t like this would never fly today. I hope he’s dead and I hope his death sucked. You do **not** do that to children.
I was a fat kid, last to get picked, horrible in sports, etc. For my first two years of high school, I was all Bs and Cs in Phys Ed.; the summer I turned 16, I lost weight and put on muscle, and no longer really looked the fat kid, but that didn’t magically make me well-coordinated or good at sports, so at best it cemented me as a solid B in Phys. Ed.
But thanks to swimming lessons at an early age, I was a pretty decent swimmer – never excellent, but definitely more advantaged than I was on land. Of course, this did me no good in school, since none of my
Had a professor in college that really stuck out as a grade A a*****e. He taught industrial organizational psychology, but taking his class was just a giant lecture about how lazy millennials and Genz are. He would devote about 15 minutes of each 60 minute class to his personal vendetta against the younger generations. When he wasn’t bemoaning the downfall of the hardworking middle class, he would be shooting the s**t about college football.
Eventually, I had enough of his BS and called him out for it in the middle of class. Just told him that I came to college to learn and not to be preached at about his particular views on society. He spent the rest of the semester trying to screw me over in any way that he could. He thought his moment came when I had to submit an assignment online because I had to get my appendix removed. Right out of surgery, I submitted the assignment from my hospital bed. He had the gall so say that wasn’t a valid enough excuse to not hand the assignment in in-person, and he gave me a 0 on a project that was worth 40% of my grade. I was having none of that, and talked to the dean of his department. Brought my recites and pictures showing me laying in a hospital bed. Dean forced him to regrade my assignment and I ended up getting a 90%.
I wish that was the end of it, but he wanted to spite me for calling him out twice on his b******t, so he ended up giving me a 79.9 as my final grade with points removed for “missing” class. Drop the ego professor and actually teach the class you were hired to teach.
I have a few, all except one share a common theme:
In 6th grade I had a teacher who taught my brother a few years previously. My brother wasn’t a great student, often goofing off in class and not handing in homework. I was the exact opposite, I always handed in homework and was quiet in class. Most of the year was fine but during the last month of school my teacher flipped a switch for some reason and started treating me like s**t. My behavior hadn’t changed at all, but I was suddenly getting in trouble for the dumbest reasons. I have no idea to this day why she decided to suddenly treat me like s**t. A few years later I went to pick up my sister from school and that teacher was teaching her. She smiled at me but I refused to acknowledge her. I don’t know what was going on in her life at the time but I didn’t appreciate being her emotional punching bag.
In 8th grade I had a math teacher who taught my brother at some point. She assumed that I was like my brother and never let me prove otherwise. She would constantly find excuses to lecture or yell at me. The one that I remember the most was when I was talking with my friends and we were just insulting each other in a lighthearted way. My teacher walks past and says to me “uh that sounds like that was supposed to be inappropriate, I’m going to have to ask you to stop.”
In 11th grade my English class was discussing a new late policy. Everyone was asking questions and when I asked what would happen if someone was late for reasons out of their control, she spent 2 or 3 minutes mocking and belittling me, all in an effort to get in with the popular kids. I rarely ever lost my s**t at school but I remember forcefully slamming my chair at the end of class and storming out.
My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. D.
I was tested for the gifted program at the end of the 4th grade, but didn’t actually get to start the program until the beginning of 5th grade. Our gifted program pulled you out of class for an entire day once a week and you spent that day in the gifted classroom.
My day in the gifted program was Thursday, and Mrs D scheduled all our tests on that day. So on Friday when we started new lessons, she had me sit out in the hallway and take all of Thursday’s tests. I’d never had a teacher schedule all the tests on one day like that before, and I was essentially spending half of Friday out in the hallway. And I was super embarrassed about it too, because our school used to pull rowdy kids out of the classrooms and have them sit in the hallways, and I didn’t want anyone to think I had misbehaved.
One day Mrs D came to me and said that she didn’t think this was working out because I was having to miss so much class, and she thought we should see about getting me removed from the gifted program, but for me not to tell my mother about it. I agreed with her and then I went straight home and told my mom. She called the principal, I stayed in gifted, Mrs D had to stop giving all her tests on Thursday, and she had to stop putting me out in the hall.
Later that year, we had an annual Easter egg contest. You were given a piece of poster board about a foot long that was cut into the shape of an egg, and you had to decorate it and the class voted for the winners, and then the eggs hung in the cafeteria for everyone to see. I had been wanting to win since 1st grade but never had. I was determined this year, and I came up with a plan. I ruffled lace around the edges and made crepe paper flowers, and I had some wire butterflies with mesh wings that I attached to it.
Mrs D held the eggs up one by one for the class to vote on and when she got to mine she said, “This really doesn’t look like an egg.”
I won first place anyway.
My English teacher… I’m dyslexic, which he said was not a real thing and i was lazy and stupid. He spent three years destroying any confidence in myself, ridiculing me on an almost daily basis and encouraging the other kids to bully me.
Twenty year later, I left my first published book on his grave..and took a p**s.
I had a teacher in 4th grade that just didn’t like me for whatever reason. I was a good kid, I got good grades, I never got in trouble. But even at 9 years old I could see that she was treating me not as well as the other kids. Just the way she talked to me, called on me. When I would ask to use the bathroom it was a cold and lifeless response. But when other kids would do the same things I did she was warm and welcoming to them. It really messes with a 9 year old.
Anyway, I was sort of friends with this kid in my class but only out of circumstance since we both went to the after school program which was held in the school by the YMCA. This kid, Chris we’ll call him, was a bit of a troublemaker. Once day he said we should sneak back down to our classroom because it would be fun. I was such a goody-goody that this spat of mischievous seemed like a good time for a change.
We get down to the classroom and Chris goes right for the teachers desk. Like he had an agenda and needed an accomplice. He told me to keep a look out then comes up with a giant bag of M&Ms. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was taking them, that was the whole point of going to the classroom. I told him to put them back but he just made for the door to leave. And I followed. We got back to the cafeteria where the after school program is held and he stashes the candy in his backpack. We go about our afternoon.
Half hour later our teacher is talking to the head of the after school program. That is highly unusual, teachers never check in on the after school program. I get pointed at and asked to come over. I get asked if I went back to the classroom and stole the M&Ms. I cover for my “friend” and lie, telling them, “absolutely not.” My teacher says she wants to check my backpack. I sigh relief because they’re not in there so I know I’m in the clear. I tell them to check it.
They check it… and find the giant bag of M&Ms. That’s when I tell the truth about what happened. But it’s too late. How did they know the M&Ms were in my bag? Because a*****e Chris never stashed the candy in his own bag. When he went to stash it, he stashed it in my bag. But how did the teacher even know the candy was missing so quickly? Or how to single me out? Because that was a*****e Chris’s plan the whole time: lure me down to the classroom, steal the candy, frame me, then go tell on me.
No one believed me that I didn’t take them. Not even my own parents. In fact, this story got told for YEARS, for *two* decades, to much laughter and fanfare. I protested every time the story was told. It wasn’t until 20 years later after two decades of denying I did it that my parents decided that maybe my “version” of what happened was actually the truth.
Claimed I didn’t turn in a single assignment all year – home work or school work. F**k that f*****g liar.
fortunately, no one believed him because it was obviously b******t. But I still don’t know what he was thinking when he made that c**p up.
I remember I had a very nice teacher and we were putting pens and stuff away when the kid next to me threw pens into the pot instead of just putting them in. I got shouted out for throwing them when it wasn’t me. Yes, I cried and it still annoys me to this day.
My second grade teacher locked me in the classroom over Memorial weekend (3 day weekend) because I was defending myself
It’s a long messed up story and instilled lifelong abandonment issues in me
Edit: I wasn’t in the classroom all weekend, it was 3 or 4 hours before the janitor found me crying in the corner, sorry for the confusion
I once made a 5th grade teacher so angry , that her yelling in the hallway drew out another teacher & when the teacher that was SCREAMING at me , basically trying to make me cry or scare me , grabbed my arm and started to squeeze when she realized I didn’t care because I KNEW I was right , the other teacher stepped in and said something in her ear to calm her down . I still think I was right , Mrs. Benny- if you’re not dead by now and thanks for rescuing me Mrs. Morris . Nowadays Mrs. Benny would be fired or even arrested & TBH she’s LUCKY I didn’t tell my mom afterwards because I mom was legit crazy and would have come to school and at the very least would have cussed her out in front of everyone – teachers and kids
We were calling out words starting with the “sh” sound in primary school, I shouted ‘shard’! (Which I learned from system shock 2). My crusty old teacher asked me to repeat it several times, then admonished me in front of everyone, saying it wasn’t a word at all. So salty about it still