(A friend of mine is doing her state exam at the end of her teacher training. The grade determines if you are offered a job afterwards.)

Examiner #1: “Your performance was very good.”

Examiner #2: “Yes, I agree. Your grade is [well below average].”

Friend: *quite shocked* “Could you tell me why you are giving me such a bad grade if my performance was very good?”

Examiner #1: “Well, we can see from your file that you are married, so you don’t really need to work. We reserve the good grades for single women who need a job more than you do.”

(My class is at the end of our first GCSE year, and we’re receiving the results from a test we took around a month ago. The grades in our school are set out in numbers. An 8 is around the same as an A, a 7 equals a B, etc.)

Teacher: “[Classmate #1], 5. [My Name], 6. [Classmate #2], 7.”

(The teacher pauses and turns to stare at the last student on his list, [Classmate #3.])

Teacher: “[Classmate #3], you got an 8, the highest mark in the class.”

Classmate #3: “Yes!” *leans over to high five his friends*

Teacher: “However…” *holds up the test* “You filled in a geography test, not a history one.”

(The entire class starts laughing while [Classmate #3] goes bright red.)

Teacher: “It’s an excellent score, but how did you not realise you were taking a test for the wrong subject?!”

(Classmate #3 still hasn’t lived it down.)

(My freshman biology teacher allows us to bring a single 3×5 card of notes to our final exam. She warns us that she will measure the card, so it had better not be any larger than three inches by five inches. Some of us are more creative than others.)

Student #1: *hands over his card for inspection*

Teacher: *whips out her own 3×5, plops it down in the middle of the student’s, frowns* “As I thought, yours is too big. Thought I was joking?”

(She traces around her card, pulls out her shears, and cuts off all four sides, leaving him with a notecard that is exactly 3×5, but is missing huge chunks of information. She then stamps the card, hands it back to the horrified student, and turns to the next kid.)

Student #2: *smugly* “Here you are!”

(The card looks a mess, with cramped red ink in one direction overlaid by equally small blue writing going perpendicular to the red.)

Teacher: *lays her card over his, and it’s exactly the right size, so she stamps it and hands it back* “Just curious, but how exactly do you plan to read that?”

Student #2: *pulls out an old set of 3D glasses, the kind with one blue lens, and one red lens* “With these! When I look through this side, I can only see the red ink. And when I look through the other, I only see the blue!”

Teacher: “Huh. Well, all right, then. Good luck.” *turns to me* “And your card?”

(I pull out a 3×5 card onto which I have glued meticulously sized printer paper, covered in size one font.)

Me: “I couldn’t get it to print straight onto the card, so I had to print it out and glue it on. But I promise, it’s only one layer, and you can even tape down the edges, if you want.”

Teacher: *checks the size, prises up an edge to see that I’m telling the truth, and gives it her stamp of approval* “You’re good. But it’s going to be awfully hard to read something that small.”

Me: “I should be fine. But, just in case…” *I reach into my pocket and pull out a toy magnifying glass* “It’s only ten times magnification, but that’s plenty.”

Teacher: *starts laughing* “What is with this class?”

(Sadly, most everyone else had fairly standard cards, and maybe two more got trimmed. I don’t know how the others did, but [Student #2] and I aced it.)

(It is about halfway through the first term, and we have taken a few mini tests to prepare for our mock GCSEs after Christmas. One teacher really hates me, and goes out of her way to make my life a misery. I also have a swollen finger due to an infection.)

Teacher: “Silence from now, until all tests are taken in.”

Me: *raising my hand* “Miss, I can’t exactly write at the moment–”

Teacher: “Stop making excuses and write.”

Me: “But–”

Teacher: “NO! Say another word and you’ll be spending your lunch taking the test.”

(I then hold up my hand, which is wrapped in an ice pack, with a length of tissue paper that could cover my whole body holding the ice pack in place.)

Me: “I don’t think I can even hold a pen.”

Teacher: “Use your other hand.”

(Yes, she made me take the entire test with my left hand. And I could’ve turned around to use the computer behind me.)

(I’m taking my very first exam in my freshman Biology 101 course at college, which is in a huge lecture hall made to seat around 300 people. As I have anxiety issues, especially regarding time limits, I am allowed 50% extra time on tests. The professor and I have agreed that I will sit in the upper corner of the hall so no other students notice me when they leave and the next set of test-takers arrives. As the last of the first batch of students leave, the professor approaches me, but I think nothing of it.)

Professor: “The test is over; you need to hand it in now.”

(I continue on the essay questions.)

Professor: “I said, you need to hand in your test and leave.”

(I wonder who he could be talking to, and why they wouldn’t hand in their test.)

Professor: *takes my test off my desk* “For the last time, the test is over! You need to leave so the next class can take their test!”

Me: *shocked expression* “But you told me to sit here! We agreed about extra time!”

(The professor looks at me, remembers who I am, and immediately becomes flustered.)

Professor: “Oh! Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. With all the other students, I forgot. Here! Take all the time you need.” *hands test back and walks off*

(It took me a little while longer due to the shock and panic from my test being taken away like that, but I finished it up in time and ended up getting a great grade. The professor apologized again on my way out. In such a large class, these things are to be expected, I guess! And he was always very polite when we talked after that.)