Snapchat Brat

, , , , , | | Learning | May 23, 2019

(It’s right after PE and I’m getting changed. In our school, there is a rule that we cannot have our phones out in the locker room. Many people, often time the girls who do our Strength and Conditioning class, don’t follow this rule. Normally, it’s not a problem because they’re just checking the time, but this takes the cake. I notice that a girl has her phone out and that I don’t have a shirt on.)

Me: “Hey, [Girl], can you put away your phone?”

(She glares and turns on her phone to show that the Snapchat camera is on.)

Me: “Please put away your phone! It’s the rule!”

Girl: “Why? It’s not like it’s harming you.”

Me: “Please! Your Snapchat camera is on, and I’m not wearing a shirt! Now follow the rule and please put away your phone!”

Girl’s Friend: “Just because it’s bothering you it doesn’t mean she has to.”

(I have a bit of a phobia of people taking pictures of me without permission, and it doesn’t help that [Girl’s Friend] has her phone like she’s taking a photo.)


(Both girls put away their phones and left, giving me a disgusted sneer. I forgot about this until I was pulled out in both third and eighth periods, in which I had to see my counselor and the assistant principal. They ended up going through the girls’ phones, but didn’t find any problematic photos. The phones were then taken away. I also filled out a form which gave my description of what happened. I hope they get punished by their parents!)

Pushing Through The Chairs Of Anxiety

, , , , | | Learning | May 13, 2019

(My middle school math teacher seems to have had a severe problem with me and has no problem showing it. My learning disability does at times affect my work, which she doesn’t like, and if I come to see her during her after-school tutoring sessions that she holds for any student needing extra help, she rails on me for not understanding the work, and quickly loses her patience and refuses to help, telling me I am wasting time that the other students in the tutoring session need. All the while, she keeps going easier and even coddling students who do even less work or are even disruptive in class. Unfortunately, she doesn’t seem to contain her dislike for me to my academic performance. In her class, desks are set up in quads pretty close together, meaning if you are sitting at the side of the “square” directly back to back with someone sitting at the square right next to yours, it is hard to get out of your seat unless the other person scoots their chair closer to their desk to let you out. I should also note that I’ve never exactly been thin.)

Teacher: “[My Name]! Come hand out these worksheets!”

(I attempt to get up only to see that the classmate behind me has his seat pushed out so I can’t get up.)

Me: “[Classmate], could you move your chair in, please?”

Classmate: *moves his seat in barely an inch, not enough to let me get up, moves it back, and laughs*

Teacher: “[My Name]! I told you to get up! Now!”

Me: “There’s not enough room…”

Teacher: “Stop slacking off!”

(I try again to get the classmate to move his chair, but he ignores me. I’m getting more and more upset since she’s continuing to yell at me in front of the class, even though all this is going on in front of her eyes. The deskmate right across from me tries to help by pulling her desk back so I can push my desk forward to make room, only to be yelled at by the teacher, as well, for moving the desks.)

Me: “I can’t get up with [Classmate]’s chair out like that!”

Teacher: *rolls her eyes, condescendingly* “[Classmate], move your chair in so she can get up.”

(The classmate moves in a little bit, just enough to let me get up, but before I can…)

Teacher: “Move in more than that! She’s fatter than you and needs the space!”

Me: *speechless*

(I wish I could say that was the worst of it. I missed a week of school due to my father passing away. I was attempting to catch up with my classes once I was back, and I attended one of her tutoring sessions. This time, due to still being in a pretty fragile state, the harsh treatment I received made me burst into tears. Her response was to just coldly say, “Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you just because your dad died!” That didn’t just shock me, but the other students in the room, as well. All I could do was grab my stuff and leave. The following school year, my mom was pulling me out for winter break a few days early so I could go on a trip with extended family, since this would be my first Christmas without my father. I went around to all my teachers to get holiday homework beforehand, and all were understanding and gave their planned assignments. When I went to this teacher, she scribbled some equations in my notebook and said that was it. I foolishly took her at her word. When classes started back up, I learned the homework was an entire section of our textbook. She railed on me for not doing the work, and when I tried to remind her she didn’t tell me what the work was, she sneered that that’s what I get for missing school. That following year, I ended up in the same high school with a bunch of classmates from middle school and we decided to get together and visit our old stomping ground one day after classes let out. When we arrived, we found four teachers sitting together in one of the classrooms: three of my favorite teachers, including two who had been such a comfort after my dad died and even came to his funeral, and THAT teacher. I got a petty little thrill at her shocked and offended expression when I deliberately ignored her, turned my back to her when speaking to the other teachers, and went around hugging all of them except for her. That’s what you get for being mean.)

The Sad States Of Schools On Edge

, , , , | Learning | April 13, 2019

(All the students in the school have had to eat in the gymnasium or in classrooms for the past few weeks because the cafeteria is undergoing renovations. Earlier that day, there was a walkout in memory of a school shooting, which was fairly uneventful. Now, nearly the entire student body is in the gym for lunch. Most are sitting on the bleachers, but I’m on the opposite side of the gym and can see everyone. Suddenly, there is a loud bang from somewhere in the gym. I have a great view of the bleachers, and I see every single student flinch or jump in perfect unison, thinking it was a gunshot. Everything is quiet for a few seconds. Then, the principal storms in, extremely angry.)

Principal: “WHO DID THAT?!”

(He was under the impression that someone, trying to be funny, had popped a chip bag. He spent ten minutes loudly interrogating students. After the incident, I heard that the sound was the tire of someone’s wheelchair blowing out.)

Not Just Full Of Hot Air

, , , , , , | Learning | April 10, 2019

(I am in the sixth grade, around age twelve. The teacher enters the room to find one of his students standing on a table.)

Teacher: “[Student], what are you doing on the table? Get down!”

Student: “I’m escaping a fart!”

Teacher: “Well, don’t you know that hot air rises?”

Student: *without missing a beat* “Well, that’s what I come to school for! To learn!”

(The student hopped down and class went on after everyone stopped laughing.)

The True Cost Of The Apocalypse

, , , , , , | Learning | April 9, 2019

(I’m a substitute teacher. For some reason, students frequently ask me for money and/or to break larger bills for them. Today, I’m working in a middle school. It’s the last class of the day, and half the kids have left to go to a party for getting good grades. It’s already clear that no work is going to get done by the remaining students.)

Student #1: “Do you have a dollar?”

Me: *thinking: I don’t have any money with me right now, but I wouldn’t give any to a student even if I did* “No.”

Student #1: “You don’t have a dollar?”

Me: “No, I’m a substitute. Why would I have money?”

Student #2: “You’re an adult. Adults have money.”

Me: “Well, substitutes don’t.”

Student #1: “What if it was the apocalypse and you needed a dollar?”

Me: “If the apocalypse came, a dollar wouldn’t do anything for me.”

Student #2: “But what if you needed one?”

Me: “I mean, by that point, money wouldn’t mean anything anymore.”

Student #1: “What if you had to have a dollar or you’d die?”

Me: “Then I’d die!”

(The conversation ends there. When the kids who left for the party start to come back for dismissal at the end of the day, [Student #2] gets into a fight with one of them. Both of them are taken to the office, but I’m still pretty shaken by the time I get home. I tell my boyfriend about the fight as I unpack my lunchbox, having forgotten completely about the earlier conversation. Forgotten, that is, until I notice something in one of the lunchbox’s pockets.)

Me: “Oh, my God. I’m going to live!

Boyfriend: “Huh?”

Me: “Look! I have two dollars! I’m not going to die in the apocalypse!”

(One way or another, I felt a whole lot better after that!)

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