(I’m a school receptionist. When students sign in late, they come to me.)

Students: “Miss, we’re sorry we’re late. [Road] was closed because someone died.”

(They give pretty specific details to the death, which I track down, but I put them on detention. They come back at break time.)

Students: “Why do we have detention?”

Me: “I looked into that accident and the road, and found out the closure was yesterday, not today.”

Students: “That’s not true!”

Me: “I pulled news sites and looked; they all give [date], which was yesterday. Now go to detention before I give you one after school!”

(I tell their head of year afterwards.)

Me: “I had half the mind to give them detention for that, too. It’s low.”

Head Of Year: “Keep it in your back pocket, and tell the parents when they come in for a meeting.”

(I’m an academic advisor. Most of my students are freshmen, so they don’t know how the registration process works. I send a short email with bullet points of all the information they need, and tell them they need to meet with me at some point during the next two weeks so they can be ready to register for spring classes. One student comes to see me. They have a question about another issue, and I tell them where to go to resolve it. They show me the forms, and I again tell them to go to the other office and they’ll fix the issue. We talk about classes, but they don’t know what to take. I look at their records and tell them two classes I strongly recommend taking ASAP, and pick out four other possibilities and suggest choosing two of those. The student seems satisfied.)

Me: “Okay, look over these, go to [School Website], and pick out the sections to make a schedule you like. Then, you’ll need to fill out this pre-registration form and bring it back for me to sign, and then you’re all set to register online on [date the following week].”

Student: “Okay. Wait, what about [issue we talked about before]? I need you to fix that.”

Me: “Oh, no, you need to go to [other office] to fix that; they’re in the next building.”

Student: “Oh, okay. Then can you sign this form?”

Me: “Your forms for [issue]? No, [other office] needs to sign them.”

Student: “No, this form, [the pre-registration form they haven’t filled out yet].”

Me: “Sorry, no, that’s the one you need to fill out with your classes, and I’ll sign it once it’s filled out.”

Student: “Oh, okay.” *starts to gather their things* “Okay, thanks! Oh, before I go, can you sign this form?”

Me: *staring* “No, that’s the one you need to fill out first.”

Student: “Oh!” *laughs* “Sorry, okay.”

(The student gets all their stuff in their bag, stands up, takes the form from my desk, and moves as if to leave.)

Student: “Thank you for your help! Oh, wait, I need you to sign this form.”

Me: “No. That’s the pre-registration form you still haven’t filled out. I can’t sign it before you fill it out. Come back anytime before [date next week] and I’ll sign it. Then, you can submit it at [location] and you’ll be ready to register online.”

Student: *pause* “Oh…”

Me: “Fill out that form, then bring it back for me to sign. If I’m not here, drop it off with the receptionist, and I’ll sign it and submit it for you.”

Student: “Hmm…” *leaves, without another word*

(Yesterday was the student’s registration day, and they never brought back their form. Maybe it’s an antiquated system to have to get the advisor’s signature, but it’s not really that hard.)

(I am taking an Abnormal Psychology course. Our professor is discussing delusions of grandeur.)

Professor: “There was a man who said he could turn his fridge on and off, just by thinking about it.”

(The class chuckles. When the professor starts speaking again, his microphone has shut off.)

Professor: “It sounds odd, and we snicker, but it makes you wonder—” *pauses, looks down at his microphone*

(Everyone laughs.)

Student: “I did that!”

(We’re in algebra, towards the end of the day. A student returns from the bathroom, and since our doors are always locked he needs to be let into the classroom. The guy sitting closest to the door moves to open it, as is usual throughout the school, since the person by the door is always the closest.)

Teacher: “Don’t worry about it, [Classmate]. I’ll get the door.”

(My classmate opens the door, anyway, as he had already begun to open it by the time the teacher said this.)

Teacher: *now furious* “Are you kidding me!? I just told you I would get the door! You had absolutely no reason to get out of your chair!”

Classmate: “[Teacher], I don’t see what the big deal is, I—“

Teacher: “The problem is that you didn’t listen to me! You never listen! Not to a word I ever say!”

Classmate: “All I did—“

Teacher: “No! I don’t want to hear it! You have disrespected me and gotten out of your seat when you weren’t supposed to and–“

Classmate: “ALL I DID WAS OPEN THE F****** DOOR!”

Teacher: “Get out in the hallway! You’re done here. You can spend the rest of class outside!”

(My classmate walked out into the hallway, then walked back in and sat down a few minutes later, and the teacher acted like none of this just happened. This was not the first or last time something like this happened. Safe to say, I’m glad I’m a senior and only in this class for three more months.)

In the UK, mandatory schooling finishes after the completion of GCSE exams, which are taken after two years of study. When my brother was picking his options for the GCSEs, my family had adopted a puppy from a specialist rescue charity for a particular breed of dog.

This puppy was teething when he came to our family. One day, my brother left his options paperwork on the dining table, and the dog got a hold of it. We came into the dining room one day to find it had been used as a chew toy; the largest part left had distinct bite marks, and paper was everywhere.

My mother told my brother to fetch his homework diary so she could write a note to the school to say that the dog chewed it and he needed a new one. Feeling silly I told my brother, “At least it wasn’t your homework.”

He didn’t get it until our mother told him that the dog eating your homework was the oldest excuse in the book.