(One day, during my university English class, we get into a heated debate over the exact meaning of a specific word. As the discussion goes on, one classmate stops participating and starts typing on her laptop.)

Professor: “[Classmate], what are you doing?”

Classmate: “I’m looking the word up on Google.”

Professor: “Oh, of course. It’s not like I’m in the room or anything.”

(I walk into my science class only to see that I have a substitute. My regular teacher hasn’t said anything about being absent, so naturally I’m a bit concerned.)

Me: *walking up to the substitute* “Mr. [Substitute]? Do you know where Dr. [Teacher] is?”

Substitute: “What?”

Me: “Do you know where Dr. [Teacher] is? She didn’t tell us she was going to be absent.”

Substitute: “Why do you care?”

Me: *a bit stunned* “Uh… Just because I’m concerned for her well-being, I guess?”

Substitute: *sighing heavily* “Just go sit down.”

(Well, gee, all right. Next time, I’ll make sure to not care about anyone’s health!)

I have always been an avid reader, and always took a book with me to school because I rode the bus.

One day in my social studies class, we had a test. Half of the class time was set aside for the test, and I finished fairly quickly. Figuring I could put my time to good use, I pulled out my book and quietly started reading.

A minute later, my teacher was next to me berating me for reading in class. He said that it was test time and to put the book away. I apologized and then did what any book lover would do: I put the book under my desk and read it from there.

I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, being told not to read in school.

My younger brother was born with a condition called ectrodactylism (missing fingers and/or toes). Thus, he has only three fingers on his right hand and four on his left. The first Sunday we went to church after he was born, one of the regulars, a piano teacher, came up to my parents to check out the newest member of our family. She took one look at my brother and said to my mom, “I want to teach him piano some day.”

Years later, when my brother was old enough, he started taking piano lessons from her. She made special scale sheets for him, chose songs specific to his abilities, and modified songs so he could play them. He went on to take several piano exams, and scored very well on them, too. To this day, he is a beautiful piano player.

It still brings tears to my eyes to think about my piano teacher’s reaction when she saw my brother for the first time. She obviously believed everyone should have the gift of music, and felt immediately inspired to teach this little guy with missing fingers how to play.

The gym teacher of my school was also the coach of our local soccer team. When this story happened, I had been doing German jiu jitsu for nine years, was currently preparing for the southern German championship, and simultaneously had a D in gym class for the fifth time in a row. The reason for this was that, in the eyes of my gym teacher, anyone who wasn’t on the soccer team had to be unathletic and have no interest in sports. He pretty much made us play soccer every class, only focused on the boys he knew from his team, and gave everyone else a D at the end.

After a while I was fed up with it. I was getting a D, no matter what. I stayed in my classroom doing homework when gym class started, until a classmate came to bring me to the teacher. When I got there, he immediately laid into me, accusing me of being a lazy, entitled kid, only playing computer games all day, etc.

Knowing it wasn’t true, I kept my cool and waited for him to run out of steam to explain my protest. This didn’t work out. He kept getting angrier by the minute. After a while he started to come closer and closer to me. To avoid physical confrontation, I backed up, and kept going until I arrived at the wall. He kept coming nearer, and after he grabbed my shirt, routine kicked in. I threw him to the ground. Apparently, this caught him by surprise and he hit himself in the face while trying to keep his balance. Then his nose started bleeding.

He got up without a word and left the gym. After 20 minutes, my class decided he was not coming back, and we went to our classroom. Some minutes later, the principal arrived with two police officers. They took me out of the class and explained that the gym teacher told them I attacked him. I tried to explain my side of the story, but the principal wouldn’t have any of it. My parents were called in and they took me home. We were told I was suspended until further notice, and that they’d get back to us when they knew if the gym teacher would press charges. They told us it would be best to consider a voluntary change of school. My parents didn’t know who to believe. After all, I was a teenager, and they knew the teacher and I weren’t getting along.

They took me out of my jiu jitsu dojo and started looking for other schools, saying it would be best that way. That might have been the end of it, but a friend told me after a while that apparently a student made a video with his phone. After seeing it, my parents finally sided with me and immediately confronted the principal who, sadly, still seemed to side with his teacher. After contacting a lawyer, we learned that our chances were slim at best. We were discouraged, and again began looking for other schools. However, the other parents of the soccer team now knew what really happened. The team soon decided to do what the school wouldn’t, and kicked the coach to the curb. This hit him where it really hurt. He moved soon after. I finished school with an A in gym class.