Back when I was seventeen, we got a new English teacher who was from the US. She didn’t speak a lot of Swedish, but she was a native speaker of English and also a teacher, so she was considered fit to educate us.
She wasn’t great at understanding how to teach us English as a second language and had great difficulties crossing the non-insignificant cultural barrier. She (amongst many other things) required that we ask permission to go to the bathroom, that we address her with Ms. [Teacher’s Name], and that we stand up while we asked questions.
Swedes are FAMOUSLY egalitarian, so these rules were really weird and a little intrusive to us.
One fateful day, my friend asked:
Friend: “Can I go to the bathroom?”
Teacher: *Smug smile.* “I don’t know, can you?”
Friend: “Um, what?”
Teacher: *Smugger smile.* “Well, I don’t know if you can go.”
Friend: “Okay… Can I please go?”
Teacher: *The smuggest smile.* “Maybe you need a doctor to examine you if you’re so unsure.”
Friend: *Frustrated.* “As far as I know, I am capable of urinating. Am I allowed to go do so?”
Teacher: “Yes, you may.”
Friend: “Thanks.”
And off he went. Now, we figured out that she wanted us to use the word “may” instead of “can” after the next similar incident, that one was solved by:
Friend #2: “If it pleases your grace, would you grant me the right to visit the loo?”
Teacher: “Yes, you may go to the bathroom.”
The distinction can/may exists in Swedish, but is mostly seen as insufferably pedantic in this context, like answering “could you please tell me the time” with “yes”. So, the game was on.
We quickly drove her mad by using ever more flowery language to ask her any questions. It spread to all her other classes, so all her students insisted on addressing her with royal titles and using increasingly flowery language to her increased annoyance. It all culminated one month later:
Me: Ms. [Teacher]?”
Teacher: “Yes?”
Me: *Stands up, does a proper 18th-century bow, and rattles off my rehearsed speech.* “Your Grace, it has come to my attention that my body is failing me. I am currently possessed by the devilish urge to expel unmentionable substances from my corporeal form. Do I have your permission to journey to the great realm of porcelain—”
Teacher: “—THAT DOES IT! EVERYONE, SIT DOWN!”
Everybody sat down.
Teacher: “This has gone on far enough! You will stop asking to use the bathroom this childish way, starting now! Can I ask this simple thing of you, or are you all too DUMB to understand?”
A long pause followed.
Friend: *Raises hand.*
Teacher: “Yes?”
Friend: *Stands up.* “I don’t know, can you?”
The teacher yelled at us for a full eight minutes.
It was centered around that we were unteachable idiots and calling us names to that effect. We, of course, reported the incident to the principal, who laughed until he literally cried when he heard how we protested her “strict” methods. He did however, take it very seriously that she called us dumb, unteachable idiots, just for being very annoying (because that is just a working hazard) and promised to do something.
I don’t know much about what happened after that, but we got a new teacher the very next English lesson, and the old one decided to quit soon after and teach adults instead of teenagers.