(My class is at the end of our first GCSE year, and we’re receiving the results from a test we took around a month ago. The grades in our school are set out in numbers. An 8 is around the same as an A, a 7 equals a B, etc.)

Teacher: “[Classmate #1], 5. [My Name], 6. [Classmate #2], 7.”

(The teacher pauses and turns to stare at the last student on his list, [Classmate #3.])

Teacher: “[Classmate #3], you got an 8, the highest mark in the class.”

Classmate #3: “Yes!” *leans over to high five his friends*

Teacher: “However…” *holds up the test* “You filled in a geography test, not a history one.”

(The entire class starts laughing while [Classmate #3] goes bright red.)

Teacher: “It’s an excellent score, but how did you not realise you were taking a test for the wrong subject?!”

(Classmate #3 still hasn’t lived it down.)

For a literary theory class, we had to give a presentation about the topic we were planning to write our research paper on, so the professor could green-light it. I was really excited that a girl was going to write about feminist agendas in A Song of Ice and Fire, because I’m a huge fan of the franchise. However, it started out bad with the professor, who was also the chair of the department, stating that he thought “fantasy [was] crap,” and it only got worse from there.

Besides writing several names wrong (such as “Rob” instead of “Robb”) and mentioning several characters that only exist in the TV show, the student portrayed the fairly empowering books as the most sexist piece of fiction ever written. It soon became very obvious that she had only seen (at best) a few episodes of the TV show.

At the end of the presentation, several other students and I tried to correct the mistakes, but the professor rejected them all regardless, as the presentation reinforced his beliefs that fantasy is garbage.

Through a mutual friend, I later heard that the girl got an A for her research paper. I took note, avoided that particular professor, and when I wrote my master’s thesis on a similar topic, my supervisor told me that this professor had been trying to get the university to boycott research into fantasy literature for years.

(In a class in college we are expected to get into groups for a weeks-long project. There’s a student sitting next to me who has made me uncomfortable in the past, but has latched onto me. He insists we be in a group together. Since I know no one else in the class, I go with it. In the course of working on the project, he learns that I’m a Christian.)

Me: “I can look at that after small group tonight.”

Classmate: “Small group?”

Me: “Oh, just a group of us from my church that meets on Tuesdays every week for Bible discussion and praying; that’s all. We’ll be done around nine.”

Classmate: “Do you guys get together sometimes to rape kids? All while singing songs to your Santa Claus in the sky?”

Me: “Okay, not only am I not Catholic, which I assume is the source of your jab, that’s disgusting and wrong to joke about.”

Classmate: “You all think you’re drinking some made-up Jew’s blood, anyway, so it’s all the same.”

Me: “Again, you are confusing Catholic beliefs with—”

Classmate: “Oh, are you mad?”

Me: “I’m not mad; I’d just expect you to know what you’re talking about before you try to insult my religious beliefs.”

Classmate: “Crap, you’re not going to go invade some country and kill all the indigenous people over this, are you? I know how you guys like to do that.”

(Over the course of the project, and then the rest of the semester, he latches onto me socially, acting like we’ve been the best of friends forever, but doesn’t seem to get how friends are supposed to interact, even if they have very different views on things. I keep my distance as best I can, with varying degrees of success, through graduation, and hear nothing from him for a couple years afterward. I’ve all but forgotten about him until I get a friend request on Facebook. Naturally, I decline the request. Then I get a direct message from him a few days later.)

Classmate: “Hey, why am I deleted?”

(My math teacher has a reputation for being a total jerk. We’re in a small class with about seven students, so everyone can hear what someone is saying. One of my classmates is talking about how she doesn’t want to go to his class next period.)

Classmate #1: “Mr. [Teacher] is such a jerk.”

Classmate #2: “He’s scary.”

Classmate #3: “He isn’t scary! His first name is Brad!”

(Entire class starts laughing.)

(I go to university with a girl who seems book-smart, but not at all street-smart. This is what happens one early September. I’m walking up the street when I hear her call my name. I turn and look to see her in her driveway with her boyfriend, a motorcycle in between them. I walk over to say hi, in awe of the motorcycle I have never seen them with before.)

Me: “Wow, nice motorcycle! Is it your roommate’s?”

Friend: “No, it’s mine! I just bought it!”

Me: *shocked* “Oh!”

Friend: “Yep, I couldn’t afford a car, so I got a motorcycle.”

(We go to school in a place that is known for its large amount of snow in the winter time. Driving a motorcycle in snow is difficult and dangerous, so it seems unlikely she’ll be able to use it much.)

Me: “Oh, wow! I had no idea you had your motorcycle license.”

Friend: “I don’t; I am going to practice and then get it.”

Me: “Does… Does [Boyfriend] know how to drive a motorcycle?”

Friend: “No; we’re going to learn together.”

Me: “…?”

(I run into her again not even a week later.)

Me: “Hey, [Friend], how’s the motorcycle?”

Friend: “Oh, that didn’t work out. I’m selling it.”

Me: “Oh, really?”

Friend: “Yeah, I had a scary moment with it and I can’t get myself to try again.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Friend: “Yeah, but the good news is that the guy who sold it to me on [Website] sold it for less than it is actually worth, so I’m going to sell it for more than that and make a profit.”

Me: “Okay, then, good luck.”

(No word yet on how her theory worked out.)