(There is a boy who has been physically and verbally bullying me since fourth grade. In elementary school, the teachers saw the bruises on me but ignored them as they didn’t want to deal with it. We are now in sixth grade, and I am walking down the hall with a friend.)

Me: “So, did you hear about—OOF! OW!”

(The bully has just shoved into me and slammed me against a locker, making me drop my books. I fall over and he kicks me for good measure before running off.)

Friend: “Come back here, you little s***!”

(She chases him but he gets away. I hobble to the nurse’s office.)

Nurse: “What on Earth happened? You’re bruised front and back!”

Me: “[Bully] shoved me against a locker, knocked me down, then kicked me in the stomach.”

Nurse: “[Principal] will never stand for this. Let me go call him.”

(She calls the principal and I tell him my story. He is furious.)

Principal: “No. This does not happen in my school. I’ll deal with him.”

(He calls the bully into his office, and I can hear the yelling from the hallway. 20 minutes later, the principal comes back.)

Principal: “Come into my office. [Bully] would like to apologize to you now. Come on, [Bully], apologize.”

(The bully just sits there and glares at me.)

Principal: “[My Name], go back out. [Bully], we’re going to be here a long time if you don’t apologize. Make it easier on yourself. Say you’re sorry.”

(An hour later, he calls me in again.)

Principal: “[Bully] would like to apologize for real this time.”

Bully: “I’m sorry for pushing you in the hall and kicking you. I understand that was a terrible thing to do and I hope you forgive me. I also promise to not touch you or speak to you again without permission.”

Me: “…?!”

(The principal marches me back out.)

Principal: “There, he’ll never bother you again.”

Me: “But how… what did you do?”

Principal: *evil grin* “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Now go back to class.”

(I don’t know what the principal did, but the bully never went near me again. To boot, he is now on house arrest from a drug fight while I am at college on a full scholarship!)

(I have a disabled friend who, due to a problem with her legs, can only walk very slowly. One day after gym, another girl is walking behind her and kicking her in the legs.)

Girl: “Hey, move, you stupid f***! Why are you so f****** slow? Move before I break your f******* legs!”

(I decide I’ve had enough.)

Me: “Hey you! Leave her alone! What’d she ever do to you?”

Girl: “Shut the f*** up before I beat your a** too!”

Me: “I don’t want a fight and neither do you. So I’m asking you nicely: leave her alone.”

Girl: “So, you want your a** kicked too? All right.”

(She kicks me and I elbow her. Within a minute, we’re in a full-blown fight, punching and kicking. I end it by punching her in the face hard enough to give her a bloody nose and busted lip.)

Girl: “Ooooooh! She busted my lip! OWOWOW! Help! Somebody help me! She’s a monster! She bullied me and she beat me up! HELP!”

(A teacher shows up due to all the commotion.)

Teacher: “What the h*** happened?”

Girl: “She was bullying me and she beat me up! I couldn’t defend myself!”

Teacher: “[My Name], I’ve never known you to do anything like that. Is this true?”

Me: “No, what happened is that she was kicking [friend] and threatening to break her legs. I asked her pretty nicely to stop, and she started swinging. I was just defending [Friend] and myself.”

Girl: “No she wasn’t! I was just minding my own business and she started hitting me!”

Classmate #1: “No, that’s not what happened! [My Name] is right. [Girl] was messing with [Friend] first. And she started hitting [My Name.]”

Girl: “That’s not true! Not true! She just beat me up! I wasn’t doing anything to the cripple!”

Classmate #2: “It IS true. And this b**** better stop lying before she gets a second bloody lip.”

(Of course, the teacher has to call for security and everyone involved is taken to the vice principal. After hearing the story and having witnesses say I’m right, the vice principal believes me.)

Vice Principal: *to me* “We don’t tolerate physical violence here, so I have to give you some sort of punishment. Yours will be… hmm… writing an essay on how to win a fight. It had better be well-researched.” *to Girl* “And you’re suspended for harassing a disabled student. Now go to the nurse and get out.”

(Our eighth grade social studies teacher is scatterbrained and constantly forgets things.)

Teacher: “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to class! Get your notebooks out. Today’s warm up will be about Los Angeles. Start working!”

(It turns out the question is about geography, and the ANSWER is Los Angeles. Of course, she has just accidentally given us the answer.)

Teacher: “Okay, so based on the geographical clues, can anyone tell me which city this is?”

Class: *in unison* “LOS ANGELES!”

Teacher: “That was a hard question! How did you all know?”

Student: “…because you told us as we came in.”

Teacher: “I did? Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid!”

(She walks to the blackboard and starts banging her head against it.)

Student: “No, don’t hit your head. That’s not a very constructive way to punish yourself.”

Teacher: “Then what would be?”

Student: “You could punish yourself by giving us the test answers.”

(At my middle school, we have a nurse who seems to hate everyone and everything. She is one of the meanest, angriest people I know. One day my friend has an asthma attack and goes to her. She can barely get the words out because she’s wheezing.)

Friend: “Help me! I can’t work my inhaler; it’s jammed!”

Nurse: *glaring* “You should know how to work your own inhaler. Do it yourself.”

Friend: “I do know how to work it, but it’s jammed! Help me!”

Nurse: *still glaring* “No. It’s not my job to help you kids with equipment you should be able to work on your own. Do it yourself!”

Friend: “…please…” *gasp* “…I can’t… breathe, you have extra…” *gasp* “…meds in the back…”

Nurse: “The extra albuterol? I’m not giving that to you. That’s for people who really need it. Your inhaler is right there.”

Friend: *turning purple* “But… it’s… ” *gasp* “…jammed…” wheeze* “…I… can’t fix it… please…”

Nurse: “No! You use your own inhaler and you do it now. I’m not giving you more meds.”

(My friend passes out on the floor. They have to call an ambulance. The paramedics question my friend.)

Medic #1: “Why didn’t you use your inhaler?”

Friend: “It was jammed! I couldn’t get it to work.”

Medic #2: “Okay, so why didn’t you ask that nurse to fix it?”

Friend: “I did! She wouldn’t; she said she wasn’t helping me.”

Medic #1: “Didn’t she have extra albuterol then? Why didn’t she give you some of that?”

Friend: “Because she said it was for people who needed it, and my inhaler was in my hand.”

Medic #2: “…but your inhaler was jammed, and you couldn’t use it. Let me get this straight… you asked her for help, she wouldn’t help you, then she wouldn’t give you any other medicine, and she let you pass out?”

Friend: “That about sums it up.”

Medic #2: “Glad I don’t work with that b****!”

(My brother has been assigned one of the most evil, annoying, strict teachers I’ve ever seen. He made my year a living hell, but my brother seems to have outsmarted him.)

Teacher: “[Brother], are you chewing gum in my class?”

Brother: “Er… yes?”

Teacher: “Well, you get the gum sheet.”

(The gum sheet is a giant sheet of graph paper that he gives you, and demands that you write the word ‘gum’ in every single box.)

Brother: “Okay.”

(Instead of just one sheet, he takes fifteen from the math department and dedicates a weekend to filling them all out with the word ‘gum’.)

Me: “What are you doing?”

Brother: “I figured a lot of kids chew gum during his class, so I’m going to sell these sheets already filled out for five dollars.”

(The teacher never found out. All the kids worshipped my brother, and he had more than enough money for gum.)