(My math teacher is known to be a drama queen, and she really doesn’t like me. One day, before math class, my finger gets slammed in a door. As I am quite scared of my math teacher and don’t want to be counted as tardy to her class, I decide to go to her room, and ask for permission to go to the school office and get a bandage. As I get to the room, my finger starts to turn a greenish-purple color. When I go to ask to get a bandage, this happens:)

Teacher: *shows up to the classroom late, after her lunch break* “Okay, everyone, let’s hurry and get this lesson started since we’ve already missed five minutes of class time.”

(I raise my hand.)

Teacher: “Not now. Wait until we start the lesson, and then you can ask.”

(At this point, most of the other kids in my class have noticed, and are now urging me to just leave and go to the nurse. My teacher hears us talking and asks what all the commotion is about. I show her my finger.)

Me: “I got my finger slammed in a door. Can I go to the nurse?”

Teacher: *screams* “Yes! Go, go anywhere. Go to the cafeteria, go to the auditorium; just get out of here. I don’t want to see it.”

(I rushed out of the classroom, almost crying from the pain in my finger. Unfortunately, I ended up having this teacher again in a later year, and she was just as bad.)

(It is the start of a new school year, in third grade. We have some free time to talk about our summers and such. One of my classmates has a package of ten quite large erasers, and is showing them to everyone.)

Classmate: “Isn’t it cool? They’re brand new!”

Teacher: *in a snotty tone* “Are you going to make that many mistakes?”

Class: *stunned silence*

(That attitude made her the most disliked teacher in the school.)

(I am 16 and dance 50 hours a week, as well as being an honor student. I have four students to whom I am teaching solos. All consistently second place or better at competitions, sometimes getting first place out of their whole age group. I decide to open up a fifth slot for a student, because I figure I can manage another one. The mother of my first soloist has helped me recruit students, and because of being my first and helping me find students, I only charge her $15 an hour, compared to the other parents I charge $25. The mom accidentally lets it slip to a new recruit’s mom about her special price, and the following happens at the next tryout:)

Student’s Mom: “I heard you’re taking on another student.”

Me: *smiling* “That’s correct; despite my busy schedule I’ve decided I can take on another student.”

Student’s Mom: “Perfect. So [First Mom] said you will only charge me $15 an hour, correct?”

Me: *heart sinks to my stomach* “No, I actually charge $25 an hour.”

Student’s Mom: “Then why would she tell me $15?!”

Me: “I have been teaching her daughter for four years. She was my first soloist, and that is what I charged when I first started.”

Student’s Mom: “So, why does she get to keep that price!?”

Me: “Because she helped me get started.”

Student’s Mom: “That isn’t fair. You are what, 16? What makes you qualified to get $25 a hour?!”

Me: “Regardless of my age, ma’am, my dances win. Most teachers with a resume like mine are charging $50 an hour. I only charge $25 because I am younger.”

Student’s Mom: “But why do you get to charge that!?”

Me: “Ma’am, I am a busy person. I dance 50 hours a week myself, and I am an honor student, and my choreography wins. I have four other people who are interested in that slot and are fine with paying the $25. I am trying them out this weekend to find out if I can work with their student and them. So far, I can’t work with you, so your daughter is not worth my time.”

Student’s Mom: “Excuse me, young lady?!”

Me: “Ma’am. If my price is so outrageous, why are you still here trying to get me to teach your daughter?”

Student’s Mom: “Because your choreography wins!”

Me: “Exactly! I can charge $25 because my choreography is wanted. Now, $25 is my final price.”

Student’s Mom: “Fine. When can my daughter start?”

Me: “Never.”

Student’s Mom: “What?!“

Me: “I don’t work with divas, and if you’re like this, I can’t imagine how your daughter must be. Get out!”

(She left, muttering something under her breath about me being a b**** and arrogant and many other things. I found a student the next week who received choreography that won, and she ended up staying with me for two years. I don’t teach divas. I still won’t do so.)

(It is spirit week at our school and I’ve never really liked the event, so I try to avoid it as much as possible. My Spanish teacher is wearing a fairy costume. We are taking a quiz, when this happens:)

Student: “[Teacher], isn’t it almost time for the [event]?”

Teacher: “Not until 2:50.” *points at a cheap wall clock*

(The clock, almost as if on cue, falls off the wall.)

Class: *silence*

Teacher: “It’s my fairy magic, y’all!”

(I’m a junior in college. I’m a biology major, but I’m taking my first ever physics class, 200-level, this semester because I’ve been trying to space out my general education classes. A few weeks before classes start, I contact all of my professors to let them know that I’ll be missing one class so I can stand up at my sister’s out-of-state wedding. Most of my professors are completely fine with it, and accept that life stuff happens, but my physics professor is furious, and, without ever having met me, tells me I can’t miss any classes and I need to find a different section. The only problem is that he’s the only professor teaching the class I need. After I talk to the chair of the department, the professor finally, grudgingly, allows me to take the class. This happens when I’ve come back from the wedding, after the class gets out, around 9:00 pm.)

Professor: “[My Name]! Wait! I want you to know how disappointed I am that you missed class, and that you don’t care about your education. I can tell you have great potential, but you need to apply yourself! Join a research lab! Make your classes your priority! I’ve had so many students like you, such potential, but they just aren’t as involved on campus as they should be; they never find their mentor or put in the time they should…”

(He continues in this vein for at least twenty minutes, almost without taking a breath, and I finally decide to see if I can find a spot to cut in.)

Me: *as soon as he pauses for breath* “I appreciate it, Professor, and I know you’re disappointed I missed class, but I couldn’t not be at my sister’s wedding. I do need to get going tonight though; I need to stop by my research lab and make sure the pH of the tanks hasn’t gone too high and check the concentrations of our last round of samples so I can send the results to [Mentor], and I need to stop by my campus job and pour the micromedia culture plates for the virology class tomorrow, and I still need to finalize the room reservation for the blood drive [Honors Group] is hosting next week, and confirm the volunteers for the free tutoring sessions [Other Honors Group] is hosting. This is why I try not to miss days; the classes usually aren’t a problem, but catching up on my research and work? That’s a pain.”

(He looked faintly stunned. I wasn’t making any of that up either; it was a busy couple of days catching up after I got back. Don’t go making generalizations about people you don’t know, though!)