(We have a biology teacher who feels the need to inform the class that ‘a flower does not wilt because it is sad.’ It is just before the exams, as we’re going through a multiple choice practice paper.)

Teacher: “I am very disappointed over this next question because you all got it wrong! The answer was ‘B.'”

Student #1: *looking in text book* “But miss, it says here that ‘D’ is correct.”

Teacher: “That is right, ‘D’ is the right answer.”

Me: “So why have you marked us wrong if we answered ‘D?'”

Teacher: “Because you picked the wrong answer.”

Student #2: “But we didn’t! You just admitted the answer was ‘D,’ we picked ‘D’ and you marked it wrong.”

Teacher: “Well, when I taught you this subject—”

Student #3: “You didn’t teach us this subject. We never covered this subject in class. In fact, we went and asked [other bio teacher], and he gave us a tutorial in it over a lunchtime. And you’ve marked us all wrong when we weren’t.”

Teacher: “If you don’t like the way I teach, and if you’re not going to listen to me, then leave this f****** class now, and don’t come back.”

(Over half the class leaves; the rest are too scared. The teacher leaves the classroom and starts screaming at the students outside, not knowing that one has gone to fetch the headmaster, who happens to have been a science teacher. He arrives and hears her swearing at the students. We finish off the last two weeks with him as a teacher, and go into the exams feeling much more confident. I never saw that teacher again.)

(At the school I work at, children are only allowed to share food with their brother/sister.)

Me: *munches on some chips*

Seven-Year-Old Student: *holds out hand* “Please?”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t. We’re not sisters.”

Seven-Year-Old Student: “Yes we are! In fact, we’re twins!”

Me: “Except for the fact that we have different colored hair and eyes, different parents, and I’m much much older than you.”

Seven-Year-Old Student: “Uh huh. I’m a little you!”

Me: “That wouldn’t make you my twin; that would make you my clone.”

Seven-Year-Old Student: “That’s right; I’m your cologne!”

(I’m taking a really hard physics class, and instead of memorizing the formulas, I decide to write them down secretly on the desk before taking a test. The teacher notices me cheating.)

Teacher: “All right class, for this test we’ll play a game. Move to another desk right now that isn’t your own. Go on. Move!”

(Confused, the rest of the class move around. I am frozen, because I know the teacher knows. Reluctantly, I move to another desk.)

Teacher: “Aw look at that; no one sat in the desk with the special notes on it! Too bad.”

(He looks right at me, and I avoid his eyes. I feel ashamed of myself. The rest of the class looks puzzled. I never cheat again!)

(I am upset because I have just found a hole in the butt of my favorite pants. I’m being overly dramatic, because I hate shopping. My boyfriend is trying to cheer me up.)

Boyfriend: “It’s okay; you can just buy another pair of pants.”

Me: “But these were the only ones that made my butt look good!”

Boyfriend: “I still think it looks good.”

Me: “No, you don’t! You’re just saying that to cheer me up; you’ll never be attracted to me again! Everything is ruined forever!”

Boyfriend: “And yet… life… finds a way…”

Me: “That doesn’t work in this situation! This isn’t Jurassic Park! There aren’t even any dinosaurs here!”

Boyfriend: “Yet…”

(After a very busy week my girlfriend and I are sitting down to a bottle of wine, the TV is on in the back ground.)

Girlfriend: “Remind me what is a seven-sided shape called?”

Me: “Heptagon.”

Girlfriend: “And a five-sided?”

Me: “Pentagon.”

Girlfriend: “Oh, of course. But what is a three-sided shape?”

(I take a long look to see if she’s trolling me.)

Me: “I think that is your last glass of wine tonight.”

Girlfriend: “What? Oh!”