(I live in Germany. In my brother’s high school, it’s custom that the teacher who last joined the staff has to hold a speech at the graduation ceremony. In my brother’s case, it’s a young history teacher, and since it’s exactly a century after the beginning of the first world war, he talks about the political and societal events that led up to it. He then goes on to compare them to current events, showing potentially dangerous similar developments. Suddenly, he’s interrupted by a mother in the audience. I later find out she’s infamous for recently having adopted some far-right political views that she now preaches at every opportunity.)

Mother: *yelling loudly* “BORING! Nobody wants to hear this!”

(There’s a long moment of awkward silence. The teacher tries to carry on with his speech, visibly shaken.)

Mother: “BORING!”

(The teacher stops talking again, unsure of what to do. But then, one of the graduates stands up.)

Graduate #1: “I want to hear it.”

(More graduates rise to their feet.)

Graduate #2: “I want to hear it, too.”

Brother: “Me, too!”

(By now, all graduates are standing in support of their teacher. The disrespectful woman is bright red in the face and looks very determined. A lot of the graduates’ relatives in the audience rise from their chairs, as well. The teacher continues his speech. Some people sit back down after a while, but all graduates remain standing until the end.)

Teacher: *voice shaking* “Now, the future of this country, of our democracy, lies on you.”

(Tears well up in his eyes.)

Teacher: “I was going to say that I hope you all will grow up to be responsible, mature citizens with the courage to stand up for your beliefs. But you’ve already done that. I’m so proud of you all, and I’m proud to have been your teacher. Thank you very much!”

(The hall erupted into thunderous applause.)

Math Problem: “Solve for X.”

Me: “[Teacher], I don’t know how to do this.”

Teacher: “You need to solve for X.”

Me: “I know, but I don’t know how to do it.”

Teacher: “Solve for X.”

Me: “I know that; I don’t know how.”

Teacher: “Oh! Okay, I see what the problem is now. Here, look. X stands for a number, and you need to figure out what that number is.”

Me: *pause* “Thanks.”

(This takes place in high school social studies class. The teacher is explaining a concept of economics. I’m known to be a pretty smart kid and a whiz at science, but I don’t usually participate.)

Teacher: “Think of it this way. Does anybody know how a vacuum cleaner works?”

(A few students raise their hands, including me.)

Teacher: “[Student #1]?”

Student #1: “It sucks stuff in with a big fan.”

Teacher: “No, that’s incorrect. [Student #2]?”

Student #2: “There’s a pump and it pulls air in.”

Teacher: “Nope, not right, either.”

(The teacher then looks at me and gives me a look that tells me he is not looking forward to my response.)

Teacher: “[My Name]?”

Me: “Things always move from an area of higher concentration to lower concentration, so a vacuum cleaner pumps air out of a chamber inside it, creating an area of lower air pressure inside. The higher air pressure outside of the vacuum pushes things into it, and they end up in the bag, which is porous to allow air to pass through.”

Teacher: *pause* “No, that’s not right, either. The point is, nobody knows how a vacuum works.”

(He carried on with the lesson, and I frowned and sat back in my chair, knowing I had a better explanation than anyone else, and deciding that he wasn’t expecting someone to actually know how a vacuum cleaner works, ruining the analogy.)

(English has never been my best subject, since I’m a very literal person and assignments often require us to recognize and understand foreshadowing, symbolism, dramatic irony, and so on. However, I do have a large vocabulary, so when our homework one day is to define a list of words, I complete it before class ends. Much to my shock, when the sheets are handed back, all of them are marked wrong. Despite being generally timid — and even cowardly — overall, I can’t accept this, and confront my teacher.)

Me: “Why did you mark all of these wrong?”

Teacher: “Because they are all wrong.”

Me: *offended* “I know what all these words mean! Everything I wrote down is right!“

Teacher: “Yes, but the assignment was to look them up, to show that you know how to use a dictionary.”

Me: “It didn’t say that, though. It just said to define them, and I did.”

Teacher: “You should have known.”

Me: “How?!”

(Decades before the TV show about blowing things up with science, there was my high school chemistry teacher. The very first day of class, I sit down in my chair and lean back lazily. Then I freeze, with my eyes wide.)

Friend: “[My Name]? Are you okay?”

Me: “The light fixture is melted.”

Friend: “What?!”

(He looks up where I’m looking, and right above the table where the teacher would be making demonstrations, the hanging light fixture is indeed partially melted, and twisted. The ceiling is pock-marked with black marks, and I could swear there are things… embedded… in the ceiling.)

Friend: “Uh…”

(The facts spread quickly as other students file in, see other kids muttering uneasily, and follow the pointed fingers. The teacher comes in:)

Teacher: “All right, students, I know this is not a class you want to take first thing in the morning, but I would like to inform you now that there will be no dozing off in this class.”

(The entire class wordlessly points to the ceiling.)

Teacher: *with an evil smirk* “Oh, darn. You already figured out the reason why.“

(To be fair, nobody did doze off in class. Our teacher was notorious for demonstrating why you followed the rules exactly, by demonstrating how NOT to do things. Just about everything our teacher did either exploded, caught on fire, or did something likewise terrifying. Every day a demonstration happened, the first three rows of students scooted their desks back as far as they could, cramming toward the back of the room. I learned a lot about chemistry, but I wonder, years later, if my teacher ever happened to teach the hosts of that show. It would explain a lot.)