Not A Very Happy Sunflower

(I am in first grade, and most of my memories of my teacher are horrible. It’s very early in the school year. When the teacher asks us to write something down. She comes over to my desk and begins screaming at me.)

Teacher: “WHAT IS THIS? WHY DO I SEE ONLY CAPITAL LETTERS ON YOUR PAPER?!”

Me: “I’m sorry. I’m just used to it!”

Teacher: “DON’T TELL ME YOU ARE SORRY! TELL ME YOU WILL LEARN!” *storms off*

(She scares me by yelling and I start to cry quietly. Most of the children are scared into silence by her. A different time she has assigned us to draw flowers showing the seeds in the flowers. I am sitting in a desk in the back of the class with a parent volunteer with me. I decide I wanted to be unique and don’t want to draw an easy sunflower, so I start to draw a rose, deciding to make one of the petals transparent so you can see the seeds inside. The teacher again comes up to my desk yelling.)

Teacher: “What is this?!”

Me: “It’s a rose.”

Teacher: “DO ROSES HAVE SEEDS ON THEIR PETALS? I DON’T THINK SO! RE-DO IT!” *storms off*

(The parent volunteer looks pretty shocked at her being so hard on me.)

Volunteer: “I think you should just draw a sunflower.”

Me: *nods glumly, close to tears*

(Other memories include her proudly declaring she had never been married but had three children to a bunch of six-year-olds. And calling the boy who accidentally stapled his hand “a stupid attention seeker.”)