(My woodshop teacher tells us this story, and it is one of his more memorable ones. A couple years ago there was a girl in his class who was known to wear less-than-appropriate clothing, and on this day she was wearing a crop top showing her belly button. This is important to note, as well as the fact that she has no martial arts or sports training. Also, this teacher is known for throwing items.)

Girl: “Hey, Mr. [Teacher], can you please cut me this piece of wood?”

Teacher: “Of course, one sec.”

(He then throws the piece of wood which he is currently working on towards the wood recycling. He accidentally lets go early, causing the jagged piece of wood with splinters EVERYWHERE to fly towards the girl’s belly button.)

Girl: “Oh, yeah, Mr. [Teacher]? Can you check my worksheet after this? I had some questions.”

(She then proceeds to catch the piece of wood between two fingers, right as it is about to hit her, and continues to speak. She twirls it around as everyone stares at her in awe, and she looks down to realize she is holding a piece of wood.)

Girl: “Where did this come from?”

(It’s my senior year, the day after an awards ceremony for students in the top 10% academically for their year. I was invited to the ceremony, but given a different award even though I am in the top 10% of students. It’s not something I particularly care about, but I am curious as to how I didn’t qualify, so during lunch I stop by the registrar.)

Me: “Hi, I have a quick question about the board of trustees awards yesterday.”

Registrar: “Yes, what about it?”

Me: “So, I am in the top ten for the class of 2015, but I didn’t receive the award. I don’t really care all that much that I didn’t get it, but I guess I just wanted to know why I didn’t qualify?”

Registrar: “The trustee award is only for students in the top 10% for the year, not overall.”

Me: “Yeah, I get that, but here’s the thing: I’ve only gotten the award once before, and I just qualified for the top 10% overall this year. So. I don’t understand how I could be graduating top ten, but not be in the top 10% for this specific year.”

(The registrar starts getting irritated.)

Registrar: “Look, they just give me a list of names. It’s too late to change anything. You didn’t get the award.”

Me: “I know, and like I said, I’m really fine with that. But from a math standpoint, can’t you agree it doesn’t really make sense?”

Registrar: “I just have a list.”

Me: “But—”

Registrar: “I just have a list! You weren’t in the top ten, so you didn’t get the award. I have other students to talk to, so go back to class.”

(There were no other students waiting, but I decided to let this one go.)

(I am in the second grade, age seven to eight or so, during the mid-seventies. Over the summer my mother, has taught me how to write cursive. I have an older brother, so she knew that later on that year we’d be learning it, so I guess she figured she’d give me a head start. In class I am taking notes. The teacher comes to my desk, sees what I am doing, and tears that page out of my notebook!)

Me: “Why did you do that?”

Teacher: “I haven’t taught that yet!”

(She made me take my notes in print until SHE taught us cursive later in the year.)

(I teach seventh- and eighth-grade science. Our local zoo is reopening the exhibit that houses monkeys, apes, and other similar animals. There is a special open house for teachers. Immediately after school, I pick up my three-year-old at daycare and head off to the zoo. We enter the exhibit and come to the spider monkeys. My son asks what they are. Before I can answer, [Teacher #1] says:)

Teacher #1: “Those are spider monkeys, honey.”

(She and [Teacher #2] seem to be pacing us. At the next exhibit:)

Teacher #2: “Look, honey, those are mandrills, like in The Lion King.”

(At the next window:)

Teacher #1: “Those are orangutans. They look like orange men.”

(We get to the next window. The animals inside are clearly eager to see people and hang from the glass in front of my son.)

Teacher #2: “Look, honey, see the monkey?”

(My son has decided he’s had enough of these women.)

Son: “No. That’s not a monkey. That’s a lemur. He’s a ring-tail lemur. That one is a ruffed lemur.”

Teacher #1: “No, that’s a monkey. Let’s see if I can find out what kind it is.”

Me: “It’s a lemur, not a monkey. He’s right.”

Teacher #2: “Oh, this sign says they are not monkeys. They are lemurs.”

Teacher #1: “He needs to learn not to correct teachers.”

Me: “Teachers need to learn to not tell kids wrong information.”

(They were very offended as they stormed off.)

(My classmate sees my teacher getting a mint out of his desk as he is asking to go the bathroom.)

Classmate: “Can I have a mint?”

Teacher: “No.”

Classmate: “Why?”

Teacher: “Because then I would have to give everyone a mint.”

Classmate: “Rock-paper-scissors, then.”

Teacher: “No.”

Classmate: “Best out of three.”

Teacher: “Just go to the bathroom.”

Classmate: *as he is walking out of the room, yells* “[Teacher] has mints!”

(Everyone stares at the teacher.)

Teacher: “D*** it, [Classmate]!”