My art teacher in high school was a piece of work. He was a good artist, but he had a very narrow view of what constituted ‘art’ — anything even vaguely cartoon-ish didn’t count, for example. He also tended to play favorites. For a while I was one of the favorites, but something changed in my senior year and he started to get hyper-critical of my work.

That year I was in an AP art class, since I intended to go to college for illustration. Some of the assignments he gave us were insane, especially for a high school class, but the nadir of the class for me was an assignment where he wanted 12(!) finished pieces, all in different styles, in two weeks. That’s almost a piece a day, and insane when you consider we had all of our other classes to consider, too.

I worked my absolute hardest, and managed to come up with 10 pieces. Not all of them were very good, but what do you expect on that deadline? I got to the class to find that, in spite of my worries over being two pieces short, I actually had the most pieces out of everyone there. Most only had three or four, and a few only had one or two, though admittedly they were all higher quality than mine.

However, I did not get any kind of recognition from the teacher for all of my work. In fact, he continually picked up various pieces of mine and referred to them as ‘crap’ in comparison with my peers, and he didn’t even mention the 12-piece goal that I was the only person to come even close to hitting. By the end I was crying silently in the back of the critique group.

Thankfully, the whole spectacle was so ridiculous that my classmates — even the ones receiving positive feedback from him — stood up for me, and one of his ‘favorites’ spent most of the critique rubbing my back and telling me she was impressed that I managed to do as much as I had in so little time, and that the teacher was completely out of line for talking about my art the way he was. But I do attribute a lot of my anxiety with my art now to that class, and the way he moved the goalposts.

(I am in a freshman biology class and the teacher has accidentally left a YouTube video playing on the projector too long. The next one starts automatically, except it’s an ad for The Thinning, a movie about teens being required to take an intelligence test that determines whether they’ll live.)

Teacher: “That wouldn’t be too bad in real life. A lot of people in this class would be dead, like [Student #1] and [Student #2].”

Me: “You really think if people don’t pass a test they should be killed?”

Teacher: “Well, they wouldn’t have to die. They could go away to a remote island.”

Me: “You know, if that was true, the government would probably just use that as a cover and kill them anyway, since it would be a dystopian society.”

Teacher: “Well, if they fall out of the plane or something, nothing you can do about it, right?”

Friend: “But what about people who have mental disorders like me? I have dyslexia so I might not pass the test without extra help. I have an IEP, you know.”

Teacher: “I guess that’s a sacrifice we’d make. Also, I have children, and I’d still want the test.” *his children are around ages 5 and 7*

(The discussion pretty much ended there. I’m worried for his sense of morality.)

(This is directly after art class. Everyone is cleaning tables. My friend is known for not listening during art, and talking a lot.)

Friend: *knocks over pencil can while wiping table and talking* “Dang it!”

Teacher: “[Friend], do you know why you knocked that over?”

Friend: “Um…”

Teacher: “It’s because you aren’t focusing on the task. You talk too much and it needs to stop.”

Friend: “I knocked over a pencil can!”

Teacher: “If I hear you talk one more time, I’m going to write you up. Is that clear?”

Friend: “Yes, ma’am.”

(Bear in mind this was while we were cleaning off tables, not during class. Everyone else in the room was talking, including me, and he got in trouble for knocking a pencil can over. Needless to say, the next day he talked as much as possible.)

Teacher: “There will be three units to complete. Unit 1 is weighted at 40% and Unit 2 is weighted at 60%.”

(Long silence.)

Me: “Does that mean Unit 3 is optional?”

Teacher: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Is Unit 3—”

Teacher: “Are you talking back to me?”

Me: “I’m asking you a question.”

Teacher: “It sounds like you’re talking back to me.”

Me: “…”

Student: “So is it?”

Teacher: “Detention! You and [My Name]!”

(We never found out if the ethereal Unit 3 was optional.)

(We are in math class and this one kid is talking. Note that my math teacher has a sarcastic sense of humor.)

Student: *talking and generally being rude*

Teacher: “Well, [Student], if you think you don’t have to pay attention, why don’t you teach the class?”

Student: “Seriously?”

Teacher: “Sure!” *she hands him her keycard and everything*

Student: “Okay, class, so as Ms. [Teacher] was saying…”

(The teacher sat down in his seat, and started playing hangman with us. By now half the class was playing hangman and the other half was chatting to themselves, no one paying attention to the student. That was the best math class ever!)