(My Latin class in high school was extremely small and we were all friendly with the teacher, which meant we tormented her whenever we had the chance.)

Teacher: “Stop! Stop! You’re all speaking Latin with a Texan accent!”

Me: “No one really knows how Latin was spoken, though.”

Teacher: “I doubt it was with a Texan accent.”

Me: “You can’t know that.”

(Later, we had an assignment where we had to stand up in front of the class and deliver a dialogue. My partner and I were first.)

Teacher: “Ready?”

Me: “Yup.”

Teacher: “Okay, go.”

Me: *in a thick accent* “Mihi nomen est… Bubba.”

Class: *loses it*

Teacher: *buries face in hands*

(It is my first year teaching, and I am teaching at the high school I used to attend. A former teacher of mine is my mentor.)

Me: “I’m having so much trouble with my second block class. Whenever I ask anyone a question, they answer “tree-fitty” (350)! I can’t get them to say anything else!”

Former Teacher: “Oh, I understand completely. I had one class a few years back that was just awful. They would all drop their pencils at exactly 10:35 every single day. I ignored them, so they moved on to dropping their notebooks, and finally their textbooks. I didn’t know how I was supposed to react!”

Me: “Uh… that was my class…”

(My PE teacher has pulled a student to the front of the class to show us technique when playing volleyball.)

Teacher: “Okay, so what does [Student] need now?”

Classmate: *raises hand* “Self belief!”

Teacher: “Yes, other than that?”

(I am 13, and being bullied badly at my all-girls school. We had just got a handsome new handyman at school and since we are in the middle of nowhere and deprived of men most of the day, almost everyone girl in the school is going ga-ga at him. One day I am being insulted as I walk down the corridor by one of the school’s worst bullies. The handyman turns the corner, sees me, and ignoring all these girls, gives me a huge hug. All the girls’ jaws just drop, especially the bully’s.)

Bully: *sneering* “How do you know him? Is he your boyfriend or something?”

Me: “No. Actually, he’s my brother.”

Brother: *grinning* “And I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment.”

(From that day on, none of the girls laid a finger on me, and I passed through the next three years unscathed. We never told them that my brother was gay.)

(I finish my work early, so I take out some paper and start drawing.)

Teacher: *stares*

(Thinking I have more work to do, I start to put the drawing away.)

Teacher: “I like owls… and scorpions… Just hinting…” *walks away*

Me: “… Okay.”

Other Student: “Draw him an owl!”