Unfiltered Story #290457

(This is a story from when I was just starting high school. Like a lot of teenagers, there were teachers I liked and teachers I disliked, but there was one teacher that pretty much every girl in my school disliked.

We shall call him Mr. Creep.

As the name may make apparent, he was a creep. He would very visibly ‘check out’ any girl who came close to him, get uncomfortably close, breathe on your neck if you were presenting in his class, mutter suggestive comments under his breath that only you could hear.

However, when we went to complain, we were stonewalled.)

Principal: I’m very disappointed in you girls. You shouldn’t let prejudice make you judge someone like that.

(For, you see, Mr. Creep was black, and some of the girls complaining were white. Not all of them, not by a long shot, but enough for our ‘wonderful’ principal to conclude that our dislike of him must be because we were uncomfortable with his skin color, and that his behavior couldn’t have anything to do with it.

The problem was that those he targeted tended to be the quieter girls, so when we got told off for complaining, most of us just ducked our heads and tried our best to avoid him, hoping to just endure it.

However, it all came to a head when one of my classmates was doing a reading in class. She had a bit of an accent, and Mr. Creep ended up saying the sort of thing he normally whispered under his breath out loud.)

Mr. Creep: Mmm… you’ve got a pretty mouth… got some things I’d like to see it do…

???: WHAT?!

(The entire class whipped around to see one of our other teachers standing in the doorway. We’ll call her Miss Ellen. She was an older lady, who before and since I’ve never heard speak in anything more than a low lilting tone. But that day, I would swear I heard the window next to me shake from her shout.

She stood there, fuming for a moment, before turning to look at the class.)

Miss Ellen: Everyone, go down to the library. Tell [Librarian] I sent you down.

(We sort of looked at each other, but then we all gathered our things and filed out, while Miss Ellen just kept glaring daggers at Mr. Creep, and he just stood there with a smug smirk on his face, obviously unconcerned.

Once we all got to the library, we milled about, messing around like teenagers do, until one of the guys called out by the window.)

Classmate: Hey, it’s the cops!

(We all crowded around the window to see, and sure enough, there were three cop cars all pulled into the parking lot, and we had a decent view of Mr. Creep being dragged along by a trio of officers, fighting the entire way, before he got shoved into one of the cars. Miss Ellen was there to, talking to a cop while holding a towel to her head.

It wasn’t until senior year that I was able to get the story of what happened before that from one of my other teachers. Apparently, after we left, Miss Ellen tried to get Mr. Creep to go with her to the principal, but he just ignored her. She then called the principal to come down to the room, and confronted Mr. Creep when he tried to just walk out. He ended up slapping her for ‘being mouthy’, and had her backed into a corner, when she elbowed in the stomach to get him to back off, and the other teachers who had arrived at that point managed to hold him back.

Apparently, he calmed down a bit, still acting smug, until the cops showed up and he realized that this wasn’t just going to blow over or be swept under the rug, and so he started flipping out and had to be pulled down by the cops.

We never saw Mr. Creep again, but I expect that none of our class ever forgot the image of Miss Ellen standing up for us in a fury. She certainly became one of my favorite teachers during my time in high school.)