#evil teachers

[welcome-iruma-manga]

[phoenixmakeswords]

Let The Healing Begin

When I was five, I went to the school at our church. We thought it would be okay. We thought it would be safe. We thought we could trust them. We were wrong.

I wasn’t related to The Family who ran it, so myself and other students weren’t treated well. I myself was emotionally and verbally abused. I was five years old and I remember waiting in line for three girl’s room because I had to pee and the principal threatened to spank me. I dropped out of the Christmas program because of the way they treated me. I had flat feet and it was agonizing to stand for long periods of time. They didn’t care. I had my arm yanked because I accidentally used my left hand for the Pledge. My mom pulled me and homeschooled me but I still saw them every Sunday.

I was glad when The School closed. I wonder just how many other kids they messed up. To be honest, I’m not sure how my mom found out what was going on.

It’ll be twenty years next year since that happened. And I believe it’s time for me to heal. For me to stop beating myself up over everything. For me to believe in myself for once. For me to stop tearing myself down. For me to have some modicum of confidence. For me to lose the self-hatred. For me to stop blaming myself for everyone else’s crap. For me to see the good in myself that I always search for in everyone else. It wasn’t my fault. What they did was on them. I was a child. And I deserve to heal for that chubby five-year-old girl who begged her mom to let her stay home from school. I forgave them a long time ago but I never healed. I’m not putting their blame on me anymore. Because it was never mine to begin with. I was innocent. I was a child. The blame is on them, but I put it on me because I thought I deserved it. I thought it was my fault because they were adults and adults were supposed to know everything.

I’m doing this for the little girl I was. The little girl they broke. Because she deserves this.

[horriblegonzo]

He’s baaaaaaaack!

[shirayuki7]

Late night story time!

Warning: not all teachers are like this.

So I was in this AP Literature English class yeah? My teacher, let's call her Mrs. J, though at home I referred to her as "The Facist", was a woman created from the very furnaces of Hell. I never got a good grade because if your opinions didn't match hers, they didn't matter and were not correct. Thus, poor grade. At the beginning of the year, we received an assignment that we had to complete each term. We had to read a book, and then analyse it. But, we had to make sure that the book we were reading was acceptable to Mrs J. I naturally pulled out a favorite of mine, Wizards First Rule by Terry Goodkind. Sure it had magic and dragons in, but it is a treatise that analyzes human behavior and spirit, along with political aspects like communism. I recommend it to anyone smart enough to handle it :)

Anyway, I show her this book and she immediately slaps it down as soon as i say 'wizard'. I return to my seat, knowing that this woman despises everything good in this world. Maybe it wasn't smartest of me to pull out a "fantasy novel", but this woman isn't exactly open minded. Not in the least bit, as I come to discover. Is the only way for a book to be a classic if it's boring, depressing, and makes me wanna tear my hair out? I mean, I love huckleberry finn, and those classics. But what good is The Jungle gonna do me?

The year carries on, and I lose hope in my fellow classmates. Either they all genuinely loved her, or they're very good actors. Either way, everyone was much better at kissing her ass than I was. A new semester rears it's ugly head, and I decide I couldn't take it anymore. So, for our regular assignment, I pull out another Goodkind book. this time, I don't show her the actual book. This time, when she asks what book, I say the title and she asks what it's about, so I tell her the truth. "It's a novel about the nobility of the human spirit " by now she knows I'm a 'trouble child' so she says she'll have to look into it, but she never did and never mentioned it again, so I proceeded with the assignment, determined to write the best essay she's ever seen. So good, it'll knock her elitist socks off.

End of third term comes along nicely. I turn in my 6 page essay, with 3 extra pages that analyzes 3 quotes I'd chosen from the book, exactly to the way the assignment outlines.

To be honest here, I don't think she even read it. I received no credit, and a heated email. She never brought it up to me in person however, which you think she would have because she was soo invested in my high school career. I let it be, furious that she undermined my hard work. I let my parents know that I had failed this term because I got no credit for assignment I actually worked on (which is rare because English class was easy for me) my father got super upset that a teacher would be so shortsighted and close-minded but I told him it was fine, for someday it would be her undoing.

The end of the year was close now. We had completed the AP test, and class was just goof off and recovery time. Mrs J had a great idea of doing black out poetry. I had Wizards First Rule in my backpack. Being the rebellious teen I am, I pulled it out and searched for a page with lots of beautiful imagery. It wasn't hard to find a good one.

As a class, we headed to the copy room and made copies of the pages we chose. I hand Mrs J my book, open to my chosen page. She asked me what book this was as she placed it on the printer. I looked her dead in the eyes and said "wizards first rule".

The recognition clicked in her eyes, hardly hidden by her false smile. The flames of Hell burned bright in them, as the printer scanned the forbidden novel. I smiled sweetly and took my book back, along with the printed page my sweet revenge would be scribbled on.

Two days of working on this page to be the greatest poem out of the entire class. Who wants to make a poem out of 1984? Not this gal. I finish on the day we're supposed to read aloud to the class.

Everyone reads their poems, most of them sounding more like nonsense or limericks, and most of them not being longer than three lines. Mrs J calls me up. My time to shine with the blinding beams of victory has now come.

Sadly, I don't have the poem with me, as we had to turn them in and she kept them, or burned them, or whatever.

I read it, slowly and thoughtfully, placing emotion to my eloquently stolen words. The class is stunned silent as I finish. Small snaps seem to be the conclusion of my rebellion, but I hear Mrs J say, quietly from the back behind her desk, that it was the best black out poem she's ever heard from a student.

It must have been difficult for her to say, but she said it. I don't care if she didn't even mean it, because she said it.

I returned to my desk, near bursting with the delight of having won the war that seemed to have no end in sight. Incidentally, my desk was closest to hers. Probably because she didn't trust me at all. Though, this is from a woman who says "I value your opinions and I want to hear them" as she marks down your grade for expressing what she asked for, but not her way.

Be brave students! The school year has come again, but remember, the classroom has no room (eheh) for dignity. There's no shame in kissing your teachers butts for a decent grade, because the real shame should be for those responsible for the school system, that we aren't allowed to be thinking individuals because it'll scar our record and mar our chances of getting into good colleges. How is this preparing us for the real world, other than learning how to please someone higher to raise ourselves up?

Moral of this Story is....

*pulls out Wheel of Morality* Wheel of Morality, turn turn / tell us the lesson we should learn.

Moral #2: Don't eat with your mouth full.

[thatsagroove]

evil bastards. 

[teatimeandnotes]

One of my professors has their students buy a textbook that's a custom edition for our school and it costs $370. Since it's custom we can't rent it and the school doesn't buy back used custom editions, so we're forced to pay $370. I'm really pissed because like all my other textbooks I can rent for like $40.

[the-crooked-library]

Alright, so either I failed my Physics test, or my teacher literally had the Scantron spelling out "DEAD." 

[sedehaven]

Why I Hate Guatemala -- The Tragedy of Fourth Grade Geography

My girlfriend has told me that I need to write about the weirdness that has happened to me, and so I am.

I hate Guatemala. I have never been there. I don't know any Guatemalans. I'm sure that it's a beautiful country. But I hate it, and it is not Guatemala's fault.

In the fourth grade, I had a teacher named Dolores D. (Dolores means "sorrowful". It is also the first name of Professor Umbrage from the Harry Potter series. )

You may already know where this is going from those two factoids.

Dolores D hated me.

She didn't like poor people and thought that they oughtn't be too smart or get above their stations. I know this because she told me once, "You really are an awful child. Poor children shouldn't be smart. It's against God."

So...there's that...

For geography, we had a very special assignment--a project. I loved projects, and this was going to be so much fun! We were split into groups of four to five and given a country to study. We were supposed to do a whole presentation on the country--major landmarks, highest elevation, flag, imports, exports, major industries, crops, a brief history, and we got to bring food! It sounded like so much fun. I was so excited about it.

Dolores D broke us into six groups. My group was...just me. And she gave out countries. Canada, Mexico, France, Spain, Germany...and Guatemala.

Guess who got Guatemala?

Now this was 1990, way before the Internet. I did my absolute best with one picture book on Guatemala and a very brief encyclopedia article. I didn't tell my family because academic stuff was part of my IDENTITY. If I couldn't accomplish an academic task, then I just couldn't be ME anymore.

I gave my presentation. There was no flag. There was no food. The presentation reflected my lack of resources.

Dolores D got up in front of the entire class and said that I just wasn't as smart as I thought that I was. And that if I had trouble finding sources for the project, I should have come to her.

I went to the bathroom and threw up.

She gave me a B+ for my work. No need to get the parents involved in a failing grade when the goal is to humiliate a child.

I don't hate Guatemala, just what it stood for in that moment. My academic Waterloo. I'm sure I'll make peace with the country one day.

Just not today.