(My teacher doesn’t believe in giving extra credit to students who want it just to pass. When they ask for it, he gives them crazy requirements for them to earn it. Note: He’s also a giant nerd and doesn’t hide it.)

Student: “Is there anyway for me to get extra credit so I can pass?”

Teacher: “[Student], you’re so far down the hole right now you need all the help you can get. Go tame a Chocobo, befriend a Yoshi, and find an Elder Scroll, and you may have enough help to pass this class.”

(The next class she comes in with a plush Chocobo and Yoshi, and a replica of an Elder Scroll.)

Teacher: *without any surprise when he sees her* “Good. Put the same effort into this catch up packet here and you have a chance of passing.” *hands her a thick stack of papers*

(Apparently she did, because she passed!)

(Our chemistry teacher is very smart, but sometimes also strict and a stickler for details. One of my friends is very good at the class, but not quite so detail oriented, and the teacher often gets on him for small omissions. By midway through the year, my friend is getting sick of it.)

Teacher: “[Friend]! Look at this lab report!”

Friend: “What about it? It’s right isn’t it?”

Teacher: “Yes, but you didn’t label the notes and calculations columns! How am I supposed to know which is which?”

Friend: *in a deadpan* “See the column with all of the numbers in it? Those are the calculations.”

(By some miracle, my friend got away with that.)

(It’s a slow day since we’re near the end of the semester and have a shortened day due to snow. My chemistry class is stuck doing busywork. About halfway through the period, another chemistry teacher pops in, grinning like a madman.)

Chemistry Teacher: “Hey, [Our Teacher]! Come here!”

(He pops back out as quickly as he arrived, and we wonder what’s up. Our teacher tells us to keep working and leaves, coming back a few minutes later.)

Us: “Well?”

Our Teacher: “You know how paper shredders have that clear part at the bottom for the scraps?”

Us: “Sure…”

Our Teacher: “Mr. [Chemistry Teacher] and Mr. [Anatomy Teacher] just spent their lunch break feeding the one in my office colored construction paper, and made a rainbow.”

(As if on cue, the two other teachers’ cackling echoes down the hall…)

(I’m a freshman student in a world history class, and the teacher in charge of it has a tendency to be a bit… unusual. Today we are discussing Africa.)

Teacher: “So, one of the issues when setting up government had to do with ethnic disparities among the African Americans being shoved together into the same state…”

(I raise my hand.)

Me: “Why are you calling them African Americans?”

Teacher: “Because we are discussing the darker skinned people living in Africa and that’s what you’re supposed to call them.”

Me: “But… they’re African.”

Teacher: “Yes, but you’re supposed to call them African American.”

Me: “But they aren’t American.”

Teacher: “Yes, but that’s the politically correct term. So, as I was saying, white Africans had difficulty understanding the ethnic border lines as a result of not being from the continent…”

(I’m in advanced classes. My history teacher is intense about lectures but is actually a pretty awesome guy. This happens after a particularly stressful term.)

Me: “My therapist says I shouldn’t see you anymore.”

Teacher: “Why?”

Me: “Because you’ve caused too much added stress in my life.”

(The rest of the year the lessons are easier and we all think he’s planned the tough stuff to break us in and the rest of the year is supposed to be easier. At the end of the year all the advanced placement students and teachers get a banquet after the exam. My teacher is getting an award honoring his hard work and his students getting the highest scores. He also has to make a speech.)

Teacher: “Does your therapist still hate me?”

Me: “Oh, I don’t have a therapist.”

(The teacher gets called up for his speech.)

Teacher: “I’ll get to my speech in a minute, I just want to say that [My Name] told me that I caused her so much stress in the first term her therapist told her not to see me anymore. Well, I’ve just been informed that she hasn’t got a therapist. I spent the whole semester worrying about my lessons for nothing. I took it easy on them for fear of their mental health! Well played, [My Name]. Well played…”