(My AP Human Geography class is getting ready to go to a Model UN conference. Some of us are getting nervous and asking random questions. The teacher has been teaching for almost as long as we’ve been alive.)
Teacher: “Relax, people, I’ve done this rodeo before!”
Student: “Were you the clown?”
(I’m in the gifted education program, and obsessed with reading. Each day I come with three non-school related books in my book bag, and finish the class assigned reading in a day when it is assigned for a full month. When I get to sixth grade, the teacher has heard about this.)
Teacher: “[My name], come here. I know you like to read ahead in the assigned reading, and I don’t want you to do that. From now on you’ll be getting these once a week.”
(She hands me a photo-copied packet of two chapters.)
Teacher: “Please don’t lose them.”
(I’m furious, but being small and shy, I nod, and finish the two chapters by the next class. My best friend feels sorry for me, and gives me her copy of the book. The next day in class, I’m reading one of my extra books.)
Teacher: “[My name], what are you doing?”
Me: “Reading!”
Teacher: “Where is your packet?”
Me: “I didn’t bring it, because [friend] gave me her book and let me finish it!”
(The teacher is raging, stops class to lecture me, and ends up confiscating my book from home. I’m now forbidden from reading in her class, and tell my mom about it.)
Mom: “Well, that’s stupid of her. School starts at nine tomorrow, right? I’m going to go up there and raise hell.”
(True to her word, my mother goes to the principal, who calls the teacher, and she and my mother proceed to throw fits in the principal’s office; my mother wins. She gets the reading list for the year, gets all the books from the library, and I read them in a week. From then on, I always made sure the teacher saw me read her books in her class.)
(I go to a school where I am a misfit, and bullied for no reason. I am in a science class, and the teacher has seated me at a table next to a guy I do not know very well. We’re taking a science test.)
Boy: “MAN, stop touching me!”
(The teacher shushes him. I assume he’s not talking to me, and continue to do my test, until about a minute later.)
Boy: “MAN, [my name]! STOP TOUCHING ME, DAWG!”
Me: “Wait, what?”
Teacher: “Both of you stop!”
Me: “But I—”
Teacher: “STOP!”
(I give up and return to my test. Without fail, a minute later…)
Boy: “MAN! [Teacher], TELL [my name] TO STOP TOUCHING ME, DAWG!”
Teacher: “[My name]!”
Me: “I’m not doing anything! We’re literally on two separate ends of the table!”
Teacher: “Well, whatever you must be doing, stop it!”
(At this point, I am angry and on the verge of tears, but continue working and move further away from the boy. Two minutes later…)
Boy: “[Teacher]! [My name] KEEPS TOUCHING ME!”
Me: “No, I’m not! Are you freaking serious, dude?”
Teacher: “BOTH OF YOU, OUT!”
Me: “But I’m not—”
(The teacher calls security and a dean from the hallway, and has me escorted out. I am treated as if I am resisting. At this point, I’m sobbing so hard that I cannot breathe. The dean has me sit in the adjacent lab room so that I don’t faint. While I am in there, he speaks in hushed tones to calm me.)
Dean: “Calm down. What happened?”
Me: “I don’t know! I was sitting, taking a test, and he started screaming that I was touching him, and I didn’t! I don’t even want to touch him! We were even on two separate ends of the table! Please let me finish the year!”
Dean: “Calm down, take some deep breaths. Put your head down, and I’m gonna go talk to [classmate].”
(While the dean is gone, I hear a commotion in the classroom beside me. The dean sits us both in the room, and calls for security for both of us. Suddenly, my teacher emerges and announces there are witnesses. There, lining up to speak on my behalf, are a small group of people, a couple of whom I believed disliked me. They all tell the dean I did nothing, and there was no reason for my classmate to raise a fuss. I am not punished, but I am sent to the nurse to make sure I’m okay. It turns out, he was attempting to get me barred from a grade-wide trip, and ended up getting himself barred. Thanks to the kindness of people who had heard the worst about me over three years and ignored it, I did complete my test, and I finished the year on the dean’s list.)
(I work as a substitute teacher to pay the bills. I get a class of talkative seventh graders who are supposed to work on an assignment. I notice there’s a radio in the room.)
Me: “Tell you what. If you agree to work quietly, I will play [popular radio station] while you work.”
Class: “Ooooh!”
(They all quiet down except for the occasional murmur, so I turn on the radio per my promise. A couple of minutes later they get stone cold silent, and I hear a voice from the doorway behind me.)
Assistant Principal: “Why is the radio on?!”
Me: “Oh, hello! I turned it on for the students to listen to after they agreed to stop talking, and—”
Assistant Principal: “Turn it off! They don’t deserve to listen to the radio. Did the teacher even say you could do that?”
Me: “I didn’t see anything in her notes. But it got them to be quiet and work!”
(The assistant principal scoffs.)
Assistant Principal: “Oh, they didn’t get quiet because of anything you did. They only got quiet because I walked in here.”
(She turns on her heel and leaves. Thanks to the assistant principal loudly undermining me in front of the class, they lost all focus and didn’t stop talking for the rest of the hour.)
(The class is studying for finals in Social Studies, with groups of four to five. Two of my group members and I have old Disney songs stuck in our heads.)
Group Member #1: “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah…”
Group Member #2: “…Zip-a-Dee-ay!”
All Of Us: “My, oh my, what a wonderful day! Plenty of sunshine, heading my way, Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah! Zip-a-Dee-ay! Mister Bluebird on my shoulder, it’s the truth, it’s actch’ll—”
Group Member #3: “WHAT?!”
Group Member #2: “What is it?”
Group Member #3: “You guys just sang “Mister Bluebird on my shoulder, it’s the truth, it’s sexual!”
Group Member #1: “ACTUAL.”
(My entire group and I laugh hysterically for a minute until we can compose ourselves.)
