I work at a college. The school has just opened a new parking lot.

Biology Professor: “I decided to park in the new lot, and get this: they left a huge rock right next to the entrance. I almost swiped it when I pulled in. I’m going to ask facilities to remove it.”

After lunch:

Biology Professor: “Well, I went out for lunch, and the rock was already gone! Guess I’m not the only one who noticed. Honestly, I should have more faith in [School].”

A little later, a student bursts into the office.

Student: “Hey, [Biology Professor]! Know anything about snapping turtles? There’s a huge one wandering around the new lot and security doesn’t know how to make it move!”

After the turtle has been evicted:

Biology Professor: “I just put two and two together. The rock that wasn’t there… The snapping turtle… I don’t have faith in [School] anymore.”

Me: “You’re the one who thought it was a rock!”

Biology Professor: “Fine. I also don’t have faith in my optometrist.”

I moved from Australia to Washington DC for work for a year with my wife and thirteen-year-old son. We are proud Australians, and we try to keep a connection to home; I still watch Aussie Rules football and cricket, and I LOVE vegemite and always have it on hand.

We enrolled my son in the local public school and sent him for his first day. When I came home that night, I asked him:

Me: “How was your day, [Son]?”

Son: “I got in trouble for not pledging allegiance to the flag. I was put on a week of lunchtime detentions.”

I went to the school the next morning and spoke with the principal, who then called the teacher in. This teacher had a major attitude and was throwing out lines such as, “I did not fight for this country for the flag to be disrespected,” and something about “attitude problems”.

When I had a chance, I asked:

Me: “Would you pledge allegiance to the Australian flag?”

Teacher: “Of course not.”

Me: “That’s what you’re trying to make my son do — pledge to a flag he has no connection to.”

This teacher would not budge.

Teacher: “Every time [Son] refuses to pledge, he will get a week of lunch detentions.”

[Son] ended up changing classes, and his new teacher was a sweet older teacher who even had my son do a presentation about Australia and share vegemite sandwiches and fairy bread with the class.

In the UK, we have a thing called the CCF — Combined Cadet Force — where teenagers can join a group run by the various military forces, and it serves as an introduction to the military. I join the one at my school, and mostly we learn things like drill, map reading and orienteering, and military tactics. Once a term, we go and do a two-day training exercise out in the field, which normally culminates in doing an overnight exercise.

As part of the CCF, we all have to take the weapons safety test, and only then are we allowed to carry the rifles — though, of course, they are loaded with blanks for the exercise. However, many of the teachers only volunteer for the day and so are not allowed anywhere near the rifles.

As one of the older students, I am playing an enemy with one other student and a few other teachers. As the teachers are not allowed to carry rifles and we are in the middle of a forest, they decide to go and find some sticks to carry around and yell “bang” with.

About five minutes later, the first teacher comes back with a long, thin stick, so we decide this is a good rifle replacement. The second comes back with a slightly bigger stick, so we decide he is the sniper. After a while, the final teacher comes panting back to our position carrying what can only be described as a log on her shoulder. We all fall about laughing after someone suggests that this stick is the rocket-powered grenade launcher and is completely over the top for the situation.

I am copying a few pages in the university campus copy shop when a woman storms in and starts barking orders.

Customer: “Drop what you’re doing and help me copy some borrowed notes from a lecture!”

Me: “I’ll be happy to help you in a few seconds.”

Customer: *Yelling* “I have to go to a lecture in three minutes! I have to return the notes immediately! I’m very upset with your attitude.“

I copied the notes, gave them back to her, followed her to the lecture hall, and started my lecture.

It slowly dawned on her that for the next three years, I would be one of her teachers. It was beautiful.

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My middle school gym teacher was terrible. Once a year, the students would be forced to the track to run a mile for the fitness gram or something like that. According to [Gym Teacher], there were no exceptions. Every student had to run the mile in the 100°F Texas heat. This was a problem. I have severe epilepsy that is triggered by heat and bright flashing lights. I had years worth of doctors’ notes to get out of PE to prove it.

I was the last one on the track and [Gym Teacher] was constantly screaming at me to run. He threatened to up it to two miles if I didn’t finish soon.

By the end of lap two, I was very close to having a seizure. I started seeing spots, I got really dizzy, everything was going fuzzy — the works. Every time I passed by [Gym Teacher], I would practically beg him to let me stop so I could go to the nurse because this was when my seizures still had a chance of killing me. I’m not ashamed to say that I actually started crying. He refused to let me stop. He just yelled over me and ignored me saying I was epileptic, which he knew. He forced me to finish the mile barely coherent.

Once I finished and somehow managed to make it without having a seizure, the other gym teacher, who had just come outside with her class, saw me. Apparently, I didn’t look too good because I’ve rarely seen the blood drain from someone’s face so quickly. That teacher practically carried me to the nurse.

I ended up using my emergency meds and going home for the day. My mother was not happy with that teacher.

[Gym Teacher] still works there to this day.