(During middle school, I have a science teacher who seems to have some kind of “little man syndrome.” I am already six feet tall in seventh grade, while he is no more than 5’5″, so he targets me. We are doing an in-class assignment. I whisper to my partner, asking a question on the assignment.)

Teacher: “[My Name]! No talking!”

Me: *looks at group of girls loudly discussing their crushes, not focused on the assignment* “What about them?”

Teacher: “Do you want to be sent to the office?”

(I then begin to notice that I am the only student receiving this behavior, regardless of the fact that I’ve never had a problem before, and that I have a 100% in the class. Later in the year he decides to show a movie to the class that relates to genetics. I’ve seen the movie before and I don’t care much for it, and there’s no in-class work or homework assignment related to the movie, so I ask the teacher…)

Me: “Mr. [Teacher], may I go to the library to work on other class work?”

Teacher: “No, you have to stay and watch the movie.”

(Not wanting to argue, I bring a book and some homework to work on. During the movie, I notice other students reading, working on homework, or sleeping, so I do the same.)

Teacher: “[My Name]! Pay attention to the movie!”

(I pay attention for a minute, but begin to work on homework and read.)

Teacher: *comes up from behind and rips the book from my hands, gathering all of my belongings* “You need to pay attention to the movie! Stop being a nuisance!”

Me: “Everyone else is doing something; why aren’t you telling them the same?”

Teacher: “THAT DOES IT! GO TO THE OFFICE NOW, YOU BRAT!”

(I head to the principal in tears and wait for him to see me. After talking on the phone to the teacher, who claimed I was misbehaving and being a nuisance, the principal asks me to tell my side. I tell him everything, through sobs and anger. He tells me that he will call my mother and tell her everything, and that if the teacher does anything else, I am to go see the principal immediately. The next day I am walking to class with my items in hand. The teacher sees me and quickly walks over, then takes everything out of my hands with a smug grin.)

Teacher: “You can have all of this after my class.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I went straight to the principal and told him what happened. He angrily called in the teacher. Five minutes later, my very angry mother came in and went into the principal’s office. Although mostly muffled, I heard the most anger-filled shouts from both my mother and the principal about the teacher’s behavior towards me. When they asked why he was treating me this way, he claimed that he does this to all of his students. Unbeknownst to him, the principal had interviewed many students and teachers who know this teacher, and they claimed that I was the only one receiving this behavior. After the meeting, the teacher went back to his class, white as a ghost. I was moved to a teacher who treated me equally to their other students and I was never bothered again. But seriously, where are you in life where you have to bully a middle school student to feel empowered?)

(I am a highschool sophomore recently diagnosed with severe ADHD and depression. Both mean that I have terrible focus even though I am a gifted learner. Once I am diagnosed, I am allowed by the school to bring a small laptop to school, on strict orders that it is not to be connected to the school’s Wi-Fi and that the teachers have to watch me set up my laptop at the beginning of each class. It is the second day I have my laptop. This teacher is known to have the toughest class, with extremely few chances for extra credit.)

Teacher: *walks to the front of the class the moment it starts* “Can anyone tell me, for extra credit, what was invented during World War II in an effort to replace the dwindling rubber supply?”

Me: *opens laptop, then raises hand*

Student #1: “Hey, she’s cheating!”

Teacher: “Yes, [My Name]?”

Me: “Silly putty.”

Teacher: “That’s correct.”

Student #1: “She only knew that because she looked it up on the Internet!”

Student #2: *jumps up from behind me* “Yeah, I can see her laptop from here!”

Teacher: *walks over to look at my laptop, which is still on the log-in screen* “Doesn’t look like it. And it’s not connected to Wi-Fi.”

Student #2: “She just logged out when you weren’t looking!”

Teacher: “Mind logging in?”

(I do so, revealing that the laptop still needs to boot up.)

Teacher: “Thank you. [Student #2], we will need to talk after class.”

(He was the best teacher I had that year. Several years later, he is now the head principal of my old high school.)

(It is the dawn of computer usage in the service industry, before 2000. Personal computers are not brand new, but new enough for the European Community to grant budgets for teaching “new technology” to workless young adults. With ten years experience in a technology nobody is taking seriously at the time, I become an IT teacher for evening courses and job-oriented trainings. I am currently in a training center for jobless women. Everybody but me is female, so I sometimes have problems with credibility. During an “IT communication” — Outlook and Internet — lecture, it takes me ten minutes flat to determine that they will not listen to a word from a course about configuration and parameters in a browser. Overhearing their babbling, an idea crosses my mind.)

Me: “Now, class, the part you have been waiting for!”

Class: *inattentive* “Huh, whatever.”

Me: “I have named it, ‘How to know that your boyfriend is watching p*rn on the Internet.’”

(Suddenly, the whole class looks at me as if I am a rockstar, drinking in every word, asking really smart technical questions. Two hours later, they know all about cookies, temp files, the erasing of bookmarks, and confronting timestamps. I have to take up the Client-Server architecture and DNS protocol to answer to some savvy questions. I can’t do the same trick twice, obviously, so the Outlook course promises to go sour. Once again, their babbling gives me the key to teach about Message Rules Strategy.)

Me: “Now that you have all the cards in hand, here is a little exercise.”

Class: “Sir, we don’t understand anything. Why do we have to bother at all?”

Me: “I am sure that you are brighter than you think. Let’s say you have met a handsome guy…”

(The class pays attention.)

Me: “You don’t want to show him that you are interested in him. So, when you are receiving an email from him, your Outlook will send an auto-reply stating to not bother you and kick his message to the garbage. You don’t wish someone to find his message on your PC, do you? But you want the advice of your best friend, so you transfer all his messages automatically to her. I’ll let you try until the break.”

(Most of them jumped on their mouses and clicked frantically. Some ran from screen to screen to see who had a good solution, screaming clues and advice at each other. One even ran to the library to borrow a Microsoft book. They didn’t stop at the break, and hushed me when I tried to give hints. All the solutions that they found by themselves were far more sophisticated than anything I could have hoped to show them. Years after, I met some of them. They had been hired as secretaries but became IT specialists, webmasters, or network technicians.)

(In Massachusetts, if you are under 18 and want to get your license, you are legally required to take a driver’s education course that includes both classroom instruction and driving with an instructor in the car. My experience with the classroom instruction portion is pretty normal, and my instructor is very professional…. until I get behind the wheel with her. As I’m driving, she receives a phone call. Suddenly, she is having a loud, animated discussion in a foreign language on her cell phone. She periodically pulls away to give me directions, but then continues on her rant. Luckily, I’ve driven with my parents prior to this, so it’s not my first time on the road, but it’s still unsettling. After several minutes, the instructor finally hangs up her cell phone. She turns to me and says:)

Instructor: “I’m sorry, but I need to cut your lesson short today. I will give you priority on rescheduling and a discount, honey. We need to get back to the driving school; my idiot sister is in the hospital.”

Me: “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I totally understand. Is she okay?”

Instructor: “She’s a moron! She told me she sprayed perfume in her vagina because it smelled bad, and now she has a very serious infection!”

(I slam on the brakes. The instructor looks at me with a surprised expression.)

Instructor: “Why did you do that? You’ve been doing perfect this whole time!”

(I take a breath.)

Me: “I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel like that’s a really personal issue. I’m only 16 and don’t have too much driving experience, and you being on the phone, and then sharing that detail with me is very inappropriate.”

Instructor: “Geez, you’re the one who asked if she was okay.”

(I asked for a different instructor to do the rest of my driving hours.)

(I’m in tenth grade. My English teacher is a first-year teacher, and is very mild-mannered. My classmates figure this out quickly, and take advantage of it. Despite being in an honors class, we learn nothing all year, as everyone constantly talks and argues over the teacher. She usually gives up midway through the period. I am naturally introverted, and none of my friends are in my class, so I just try to focus on my work and tune out my classmates. At the end of the year, we are starting to pick out classes for the next year. My teacher gets up to speak.)

Teacher: “QUIET!”

(Everyone shuts up and stares, as we’ve never heard her raise her voice.)

Teacher: “I know it’s class-picking day for next year. I also know that many of you will ask me if you can take Advanced Placement English next year for college credit. The answer is no.”

(The class erupts in protest.)

Teacher: “You will let me finish! This class has been extremely disrespectful all year. AP classes are a privilege, not a right, and none of you have behaved well enough to earn it. Now, I will call each of you up, and I will tell you what level of English you’ll be in next year. Most of you don’t even deserve to be in honors.”

(She stomps back to her desk, sits down, and starts barking out last names. As I sit near her desk, I can hear most of my classmates begging to take AP or honors. She flatly denies every request. I’m the last one she calls up.)

Teacher: *barks* “[My Last Name]!”

(I timidly approach.)

Teacher: *quietly* “Now, what did you have in mind for next year?”

(I really want AP English, but I remember what she said, so I decide to play it safe.)

Me: “Um… honors, I guess. If that’s okay with you.”

Teacher: “Oh. I had you pegged as an AP English student next year.”

Me: “Well… I’d like to take AP, but you said you weren’t going to approve it.”

Teacher: “Ah, you were paying attention. But I always intended to make an exception for my best students. In this period, that’s you. You are a hard worker, and it shows.” *signs the paper and hands it back to me* “Plus, you’ve been quiet in class all year. I appreciate that. Now, don’t mention this to anyone else.”

(The bell rang. I ducked out. Being an introvert does pay off sometimes!)