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Who Is The Crazy One?

| Romantic | September 25, 2013

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No Pain, No Gain

, | MD, USA | Learning | September 25, 2013

(I am in first grade. A boy steps on my finger during recess. It hurts a lot, and I can’t move it, so I go to the school nurse.)

Me: “Mrs. [Nurse], somebody stepped on my finger and it hurts. I can’t really move it.”

(It is very painful, but I am not really showing the pain beyond a grimace.)

Nurse: “Let’s have a look at it.”

(She examines my finger, manipulating it, looking at the way the bones are aligned, and looking for swelling and bruising, which are there. Of course, this hurts like h***, but I don’t scream. It’s an easy diagnosis though.)

Nurse: “…well, it looks like it’s bruising a little, so I’ll give you an ice pack.”

Me: “It really hurts. Are you sure it’s not something more than bruising?”

Nurse: “I’m sure, honey. Remember, you’re just in first grade and I’m a nurse. I know what I’m doing. It’s just a little bruise. Stop worrying and go to class.”

(Over my objections, she gives me an ice-pack and sends me to class, where I still can’t move the finger. It has swelled up and bruised even more by the time I get home.)

Me: *walking in* “Mom! I’m home!”

Mom: *sees my finger immediately* “Oh God! What happened!?”

Me: “Oh, someone stepped on it at recess. I can’t move it.”

Mom: “Let me see it.”

(My mom only got to 7th grade in school. She has no medical training whatsoever.)

Mom: “It’s obviously broken! Why didn’t you go to the nurse?”

Me: “I did. She said it was just bruised.”

Mom: “Just bruised my a**! The bone’s out of place, you can’t move it, and it’s swelled up to twice its size!”

(She takes me to the ER, where they find a huge fracture in the finger. By now, it has gone numb from nerve damage. They tell us that the delay in treatment has worsened it, and I will need surgery. The next day, my mother goes for a meeting with the principal and the nurse.)

Mom: “How could you not realize her finger was severely broken? Didn’t the bones look weird? No swelling? Nothing?”

Nurse: “Well, yes, the bones looked a little misaligned, and there was definitely swelling and some bruising.”

Mom: “Was she moving it?”

Nurse: “No, she said she couldn’t, but I came to the conclusion that it was just bruised.”

Mom: “WHY?!”

Nurse: “…because she wasn’t showing enough pain.”

Mom: “WHAT KIND OF A NURSE ARE YOU?!”

Nurse: “Excuse me?”

Mom: “You saw all the symptoms of a broken finger and you ignored them because she didn’t show enough pain?”

Nurse: “Yes…”

Mom: “So you’re saying that her not being able to move it, the fact that the bone was out of place, the bruising, the swelling, none of that counted because she didn’t show enough pain?”

Nurse: “Yes…”

Mom: “And you see nothing wrong with that?”

Nurse: “No…”

Mom: “Even I could tell it was broken! She has nerve damage and a severe fracture! The delay in treatment worsened it! You should’ve called an ambulance, not sent her back to class! You’ve caused serious damage to her through your neglect!”

Nurse: “But she wasn’t showing enough pain!”

Mom: “I never thought I’d say this, but lady, I am suing your a**.”

(I have since grown up and gotten extensive medical training. Thankfully, I can diagnose a broken finger.)

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Questioning The Teacher

| ON, Canada | Learning | September 25, 2013

(It’s the week before schools starts. I am leaving my apartment and waiting for the elevator down. A woman steps out of another unit and notices the stuff I’m carrying.)

Woman: “Back to school, eh?”

Me: “Yup.”

Woman: “What are you taking?”

Me: *misunderstanding what she said* “Grade eight. Language, History and French.”

Woman: “…Really? At your age?”

Me: “Well, I’m 25.”

Woman: “Is it some kind of remedial course?”

Me: “No, just plain old eighth grade.”

Woman: “How old is everyone else in the class?”

Me: *lightbulb* “OH! No, no, I’m teaching the class. Not taking.”

(She is quiet after that. I’m not sure she believes me.)

The Known Death Of Literature

| NV, USA | Learning | September 25, 2013

(I’m in one 10th Grade English class, while a friend of mine is in another. The classes are assigned books in a different order. I am hanging out at lunch with friends discussing class work.)

Friend: “Ugh, I’m so glad we finally finished [that book]! It was so boring.”

Me: “We’re still reading it, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Friend: “You’re weird. It was a stupid story. And [Character #1] and [Character #2] die at the end.”

Me: “What?! I hadn’t finished reading it! Why’d you spoil it?!”

Friend: “Because it’s a stupid book.”

Me: “That doesn’t mean you have to spoil it for people!”

Friend: “Whatever. I thought it was dumb. You shouldn’t get so worked up.”

(I go to English class after lunch, extremely glum.)

Teacher: “[My Name], what’s wrong? You look upset.”

Me: “I was talking to [Friend] at lunch, and she told me the ending to [Book]. I wanted to read what happened for myself.”

Teacher: “What?! I hate it when people spoil books.”

(A week passes.)

Teacher: “[My name], come here.”

Me: “Yes?”

Teacher: “I spoke to your book-spoiling friend. She’s chosen to write me a short essay about [Book], instead of losing points off her final grade for this term.”

Me: “Wait… you’re kidding, right?”

Teacher: “She had absolutely no reason to tell you how the story ended, but she chose to. I can’t stand it when people spoil books, especially to people who love to read them, like you. So from now on, anyone in my class who spoils what happens in a book to someone else will get to choose between writing an essay, or losing points.”

(She made good on her word, too. I never had another book ruined for me. Easily one of the best teachers I’ve ever had!)

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The Hunger Games

| Learning | September 25, 2013

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