(My family never goes to church, and I wasn’t raised with any particular religious beliefs, so as a teenager I am curious about religion and whether or not I believe in it. When I am 14 I ask a classmate about his life as a Jehovah’s Witness. This part of the conservation takes place in the middle of a science class.)

Classmate: “So, I never asked. What religion are you?”

Me: “Oh, I’m…”

(I try to think of the word that starts with A and means I’m not a Christian.)

Me: “…the antiChrist!”

(Our teacher is walking past and stops with a strange look on his face.)

Teacher: “[My Name], I think you mean, ‘atheist.’”

Me: “Oh, yeah! That’s the one!”

(We have been learning about the slave trade for Black History Month. Our teacher tells us to bring in essays on other examples of slavery throughout history to use as comparison. Most of the others choose the Greek or Roman slave trades, but I decide to use the Barbary pirates. I write my essay and bring it to read in front of the class. I talk about how the Barbary pirates, mostly from North Africa, used to travel as far north as Britain and Iceland to take white slaves. At the end of it, my teacher faces me.)

Teacher: “[My Name], that was a very interesting essay, but we’re not talking about fiction here.”

Me: *surprised* “But Miss, it really happened, mostly between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries.”

Teacher: *ignoring me* “We’d like to think that the Africans had a slave trade, but the truth is that the white men were ruthless and enslaved them, not the other way around. However, I will give you a B for imagination. Don’t do this again, though.”

Me: *annoyed* “But it did happen, Miss! Read any history book! Practically every dominant country or empire had slaves. It makes no sense for the Ottomans to not have slaves.”

Teacher: *picking up a book from the shelf* “Let’s see… Barbary… Barbary… Oh, I see no mention of these pirates, and yet this book is a history of the world.”

(I tried to point out that it was a young children’s book, predominantly on European and American history, and shouldn’t even be in a classroom for tenth-graders, but she told me to sit down. Next history lesson, I brought in my sources from a museum, as well as a very large and heavy book on the history of slavery. She was forced to change my grade to an A.)

This story is part of the Black History Month roundup.

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(We’re reading Julius Caesar in class, and on one of the pages there’s a line drawing of the Colossus of Rhodes in all its naked glory, complete with a tiny penis. As sophomores, several of the boys simply cannot handle it. Our female, middle-aged teacher tries to ignore them. That fails, so she tries to make it a “teachable moment.”)

Teacher: “Actually, in a lot of Renaissance art, the phallus was drawn purposefully small. They believed that a large penis meant a man had lower intelligence because he was more animalistic. Smaller penises indicated a higher intellect.”

([Boy #1], whose name conveniently starts with P — this becomes important later on — looks at [Boy #2]’s feet.)

Boy #1: “Well, it looks like you’re passing the next quiz.”

Teacher: “[Boy #1]! That is very inappropriate!”

Boy #1: “What?! You’re the one talking about wing-wang-doodles.”

Teacher: “Let’s just continue, shall we?”

(Class resumes, but [Boy #1] keeps muttering under his breath about “wangs.”)

Teacher: *turning to [Boy #1], extremely exasperated* “Penis! Be quiet!”

(The teacher turns fifty shades of red and apologizes profusely.)

Boy #1: “Yeah, it’s okay. I mean, I am kind of a d**k.”

(I am around eight, and my cousin is about twelve. We go to a school that has adult supervision long before and after school in case parents need a babysitter; this is provided for free. We’re waiting on the playground after school. Out of boredom, we’ve been repeatedly leaning against the fence behind us and bouncing off it.)

Teacher: “Girls, that’s bad for the fence. Do you need me to find something for you to do?”

Cousin: “No.” *goes off and finds an activity*

Me: *thinking she means something fun* “Yes!”

Teacher: *disappointed* “Grab this broom and sweep bark chips off the pavement.”

(I’m dismayed that she’s giving me a punishment for boredom. Bark-chip duty is usually reserved for students who repeatedly cause trouble on the playground. After a minute or two…)

Teacher: “You don’t have to do that anymore, but I hope you learned your lesson to not talk back.”

(I legitimately did not understand what I’d done. I had zero grasp on sarcasm at the time, and even now I have a hard time with it. Plus, the concept of “talking back” made no sense to me. The punishment would have been a fair one if I had known what on earth I’d done wrong.)

(I’m a high school Spanish teacher.)

Student: “Finito!”

Me: “’Finito’ es italiano; no es español.”

Student: “Oy, vey!”

Me: “That’s Yiddish.”

Student: “¡Ay, dios mío! Are you happy now?”