(Student #1 (a boy) has just asked Student #2 (a girl) to help him figure out why his girlfriend is mad at him.)

Student #1: “[Girlfriend] was in a bad mood the whole time we were at youth group last night.”

Student #2: “Was there anything different from normal?”

Student #1: “Um… I gave [Other Girl] a ride to youth group. [Girlfriend] was kind of rude to her, too.”

Student #2: “You gave a ride to [Other Girl], the cheerleader that you had a crush on for, like, two years, and you can’t figure out why [Girlfriend] is mad?”

Student #1: “Well, yeah. I mean, I asked [Girlfriend] if it was okay, and she said it was fine.”

(Every girl in class winces.)

Student #2: “Did she say it was fine or fine?”

Student #1: “Is there a difference?”

(Every girl in class winces again.)

Student #1: “What? She said I could do whatever I wanted, so I did.”

(More wincing.)

Teacher: “[Student #1], I am going to teach you the most important lesson you will learn in this room. Whenever a girl says ‘fine,’ ‘do what you want,’ ‘I don’t care,’ or ‘it doesn’t matter,’ she is lying. What she really means is that you should know that what you asked is a really bad idea and you need to figure out what she wants and pretend it’s your idea to do it that way.”

Student #1: “Really?”

All Girls: “Yes!”

(After winter break my mom has driven me up to my college campus when dorms open again. We’re driving around a bit before she leaves. I’m complaining about the number of times the fire alarm went off the previous semester.)

Mom: “So, how many times did the fire department show up last semester?”

Me: “Mid twenties? I think. This semester I’m going to keep a running tally, because apparently no one in my dorm knows how to use an oven.”

Mom: “Maybe it will be better this time.”

(Right on cue, three fire trucks drive past us with their sirens blazing, heading along the road that would take them to my dorm.)

(Our class is a little long so we get a 15-minute break in the middle, which the teacher is using to take a good look at the essays we delivered for homework. When we return, and take our places, the teacher calls out to me.)

Teacher: “Hey, [My Name]. Come here.”

(I’m a little confused, but I go over. My confusion just gets worse when she hands me an essay that is not mine and instructs me to stand in front of the class.)

Teacher: “When I tell you, you’re going to read these two paragraphs. Okay?”

Me: “All right.”

Teacher: “All right, [Other Student]. Come here, too.”

(She calls another two students and gives them other two essays, with the same instructions.)

Teacher: “Okay. Start reading, the three of you.”

(We start reading. To our surprise, and everyone else’s, we are all reading the exact same thing.)

Teacher: “What? You didn’t think I would notice?”

(Needless to say, the students who pulled this off got an ‘F’ in that essay!)

(I am in the 10th grade. We have an English test going on. They guy sitting behind me is copying my answers. The teacher sees this and asks me to move my bench forward. I do.)

Me: “Ma’am, should I join this desk?”

Teacher: *smiles* “You can cheat now, but what will you do in your finals? You will have sex there.”

(At first I thought I misheard her, so I look blankly at her face.)

Teacher: *at my blank expression* “Yes. You all will have sex in the finals.”

(The teacher repeats this about four more times, until everyone in the class is staring at her. A girl sitting in the first bench stands up and says:)

Girl: “Ma’am, your ‘sets’ is sounding a bit like ‘sex.’ That is why everyone is staring.”

(The teacher’s face went all red and she looked furiously at me. I gave her a helpless look back. She didn’t say another word and bolted from the classroom as soon as class was over. I am sure she must have heard the laughter that followed!)

(My art design course has a projects involving three-dimensional sculptural creations. For the first project the concept is a mirror. I admit that I didn’t fully understand the project guidelines and submitted something mostly illustrated.)

Teacher: “You didn’t really construct anything with this piece. It is really just an illustration. I’m going to give you a ‘C.’ Be sure that the next project involves constructing 3-D elements.”

Me: “You’re right. My mistake. I’ll be sure to do so.”

(The second project concept is a chair. I purchase a wooden stool and spend many hours burning it along the legs and rungs, which is very difficult due to a fire-resistant coating. I then place candles on top, light them, and hang pieces of paper from the partially burned rungs with phrases written on them.)

Me: “This chair is a concept piece where I experimented with the idea of a scarred person resting on a chair, since chairs are typically places associated with resting. The written paper represents thoughts and feelings one might feel while resting, but note that they are not all pleasant, hence the damage to the chair.”

Teacher: “Why the candles?”

Me: “The candles represent life and add an element of time passing as the candles burn down, even suggesting that they might set the chair on fire even further.”

Teacher: “Well, this is interesting, but it looks like you didn’t spend a lot of time on it. I’m going to give you a ‘C.'”

Me: “It actually took a lot of time to burn through the coating…”

Teacher: “Yes, but it really doesn’t look finished.”

Me: “…”

(The third project concept is a book. By now I am convinced that no matter what I do, bad or good, I will get a ‘C.’ I test this out by submitting a stack of old dot-matrix printer paper nailed together on one end, opened halfway with a broken 3.5″ floppy disk taped on the page, centered. On the outside I spatter hot sauce. It takes about 10 minutes to do.)

Me: “This is my book concept. The paper and the disk represent how our society has begun abandoning paper books and all things printed in lieu of digital technology.”

Teacher: “Hmm… Well, yes. What about the hot sauce?”

Me: *making it up on the spot* “The hot sauce represents the anger that older generations feel for the apparent loss of this traditional form of media.”

Teacher: “Well… I think this deserves a ‘C.'”

(All respect I ever had for that art department fell through the floor. I switched majors soon after that.)