(I’m in my history class during my junior year of high school. I am a rather studious high-schooler, and I am one of my teacher’s favorite students. This day, we are working on questions for a new chapter, and I am trying to focus on my notes. However, this one annoying girl in our class has decided to start a homophobic rant. It should be noted that I am a rather quiet person, and I was the vice president of our school’s Gay-Straight Alliance last year.)

Annoying Classmate: “I just don’t understand why lesbians are attracted to manly-looking girls. They could just as easily get with a guy.”

(I start to twitch, but I try to keep focused on my homework. Other classmates are either staying silent or giving noncommittal answers.)

Annoying Classmate: “I mean seriously, why go with a girl who looks super muscular and manly when you could just have a guy? I don’t understand it.”

(My twitching and seething increases in intensity.)

Annoying Classmate: “Could someone please tell me why some of these lesbians go for super butch chicks? It’s so weird. Like, I just don’t get it.”

Me: “BECAUSE THEY LIKE VAGINA! VAGINA! THEY DON’T LIKE THE BANANA; THEY LIKE THE TACO! THEY. LIKE. VAGINA!”

(Everybody stares at me in shock for a couple of seconds, and then two of my classmates give me high-fives and thank-yous for shutting her up.)

Annoying Classmate: “Mr. [Teacher], aren’t you going to do anything?”

Teacher: “Nope. Now shut up and get to work.”

(I’m beginning a Spanish class for first- and second-graders. I give them a list of Spanish first names for them to choose from, typical for a foreign language class. Two minutes later:)

Me: “No, you can’t all be called Mario!”

(I am in my final semester of school after taking some time off. I’m taking an Earth-Keeping course, meant mostly for freshman, that I have put off taking. I’m a little older than the rest of the class and at this point, I am working two jobs and being a student. This class is not my top priority, but I am always respectful. Despite that, the professor seems to have a personal issue with me and will randomly ask me to answer obscure questions even though he never does this to anyone else. I don’t care; I just need a D to graduate. While we are on a class walk around campus identifying trees, a fellow student is asking me what the last tree is. I answer her. The professor shouts way too loudly:)

Professor: “Ms. [My Name], since you are feeling so chatty, why don’t you identify this tree?

(He was probably intending to point to the lovely Japanese Maple that was just planted but was instead pointing to a light pole.)

Me: “I don’t know. Americanus Electricus?”

(He got so red and embarrassed by the snickering class, and the dean that was also there to witness my one moment of sass. I rode that small, petty victory all the way to graduation.)

(I’m talking to a six-year-old student. I’ve told her my age a dozen times but she never remembers it.)

Student: “Ms. [My Name], how old are you?”

Me: “How old do you think I am?”

(She sits quietly for over a full minute.)

Student: “You’re six!”

Me: “Uh… no, I’m not six. You’re six; do you think we’re the same age?”

Student: “No.”

Me: “Okay, how old do you think I am?”

Student: *after thinking again* “You’re six.”

Me: “No. I’m a little older than that; do you want to guess again?”

Student: “You’re ninety-eight.”

Me: “No! Not that much older. I’m only nineteen.”

Student: “Oh, that’s like really old. Even older than ninety-eight!”

(Thanks, [Student]… It wasn’t until working with kindergarten that I was ever called old, but these kids manage to make me feel ancient every time I visit their class.)

(My school is holding an art fair so we can see how to sell art. There are lots of different types of artists. I go to the one who most closely resembles my art style. I am holding my best piece, which is a name poster. I figured people would want custom name posters, so I hope it will be easy to sell.)

Me: “Hi…”

Artist: “Hello there! Can I see your picture?”

Me: *hands it over* “Um… I know it’s not very good, but I was hoping people might like it enough to buy?”

Artist: “Hmm…”

Me: *talks more because silence makes me nervous* “It’s not like I’m looking for a lot of money, but my family is going through some… things… and I wanted to contribute if only a little… This won’t be a career; I’d only do this until I could get a real.”

Artist: “What did you make this with?”

Me: “Printer paper and some pens.”

Artist: “Well, it’s pretty good. You should probably use a ruler, but otherwise, the design is nice. But the materials are completely unacceptable! The first thing you need to do is go out and buy real pens. Don’t worry; I know where you can buy a set for under $100!”

Me: “Um, that’s not really–”

Artist: “And definitely upgrade your paper! It will be an expensive investment, but it will be worth it! I recommend getting a [fancy type of poster-quality paper].”

(I kind of stopped listening at that point, because she wasn’t listening to me. I didn’t have any money to spend on supplies. I still thanked her, but I left as soon as possible. In a way, she did answer my question; no one would want to buy my name posters.)