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My twisted kindergarten teacher


Bryan

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My kindergarten teacher was twisted.  As punishment, she made the student sit in the corner, facing away from the rest of the class, and the student had to wear a big hat that said "Dunce."

Every so often, the teacher would say, "Look at him/her.  So and so was bad."

There was a girl in the classroom named Beth.  One day, she came to school wearing new shoes.  And then she was put in the "thinking chair" for doing something bad.  I thought to myself, "Well, that's what she gets for wearing new shoes."

And then a kid got sent to the "thinking chair" for writing her 5's and 6's backwards.

Oh, and then every Friday, the teacher would send home a "Friday folder."  This contained student work.  The parent had to sign it and return it the following Monday.  If the kindergarten student did not return to school on the Monday with the signature, the teacher would tell the student, "It is your responsibility to get the Friday folder signed."  And if Tuesday came around, and there was no signed folder, the student would have to forfeit play time and put his/her head down on a desk.

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I'm sorry you had to go through that, Bryan.  Some teachers take their power and let it go to their heads.  I have been a teacher, and I can see how it can happen, but it's no excuse.  I do teach pre-school now - and can see how the "less fortunate" kids are pushed aside at times...I tend to over compensate for this and even go as far as to clean them up and wash their clothes etc.  Most important, I spend time with them - they are so starved for that.

My mom and my 4th grade teacher had a major personality conflict...well, that's putting it nicely.  And, the teacher took it out on me.  (More covenient, you see.)  I was never allowed to participate in class parties because I had to practice my handwriting since it wasn't very neat.  Just me, sitting in the back.  I never got to use a pen (a big deal to graduate to using a pen that year and everyone was soooo pround when they could) - and I remember her calling me to the front of the class and ripping up an assignment in the air so everyone could see and throwing it in the trash.  I had to redo it and have my mother sign every page.

sigh.  I'm sorry - I'm not trying to compete with you for crappy school stories....reading your post just brought all of this to mind....and don't even get me started about depression and low self-esteem....

let's hope for better futures than pasts.........

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When my brother was in third grade, his teacher did. Not. Like. Him.  He's dyslexic, and she had the nerve to tell my mother that he was retarded.  Well, one evening, he spent hours doing his homework.  Writing.  Erasing.  Rewriting.  He wanted it to be perfect so she couldn't find anything to fault it or him.  The next day, he came home from school in tears.  Whilst the teacher was collecting the homework, she saw how neat my brother's paper was, announced "I don't grade mommy's work!", and tore the paper up.  In front of everyone.

Boy, was my mother ever pissed.  She immediately called the school and gave the teacher a royal bollocking.  She told the teacher that she had only just got out of a wheelchair after almost a year, and she wasn't about to stay inside doing her son's homework when she could be outside after so long. 

Let's just say that the teacher didn't take it well.

Flash forward four years, and it's my turn to have this harpy as my teacher.  She was seriously out to get me, going so far as telling me "your mother beat me once, but she's not going to do it again".  This was back in the days when teachers were allowed to use physical punishment in schools.  She'd make up reasons to paddle me.  Her paddle had holes drilled in it to make it hurt more.

I was never so glad to get out of school for summer.  Thank goodness the evil bitch retired when the school year ended.  I just bet she stayed on an extra year just so she could make school a living hell for me.

Wish I could homeschool my son.

Edited to fix glaring typos

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My mom and my 4th grade teacher had a major personality conflict...well, that's putting it nicely.  And, the teacher took it out on me.  (More covenient, you see.)  I was never allowed to participate in class parties because I had to practice my handwriting since it wasn't very neat.  Just me, sitting in the back.  I never got to use a pen (a big deal to graduate to using a pen that year and everyone was soooo pround when they could) - and I remember her calling me to the front of the class and ripping up an assignment in the air so everyone could see and throwing it in the trash.  I had to redo it and have my mother sign every page.

sigh.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Pacanuck,

Was your teacher named Mrs. Jones, by any chance?  If that wasn't my teacher, it was her identical twin.

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This bitch was called Mrs. Crane.....but I did have a Mrs. Jones in 2nd grade....she didn't get me much either but basically left me alone as I cried insessively as I put huge black x's through all my lessons......

I'm so sorry about your behind......why do adults put little kids through this?  I mean...what on earth can a child do to deserve things like that?  Any way...the stuff that kids actually do are just symptoms of deeper issues that could and should be addressed -

oh...but God forbid any child "get one over" an adult...the only thing then is, if the adult would step out and look at the situation, the minute they get involved in the "competition" they lose.

I'll get off of the soapbox now.  ;)  

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Holy crap...the more I hear, the more I'm convinced that when we as people tell each other to "go to hell" we can't as we already live there. ;)

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get this, in 1st grade I got in trouble for coloring worng.

I was inside the lines, but the teacher got mad I wasn't moving

the crayon her way.

I have made it my life's mission NOT to be like her

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This thread reminded me of an old song.

Flowers are Red

Harry Chapin

The little boy went first day of school

He got some crayons and started to draw

He put colors all over the paper

For colors was what he saw

And the teacher said.. What you doin' young man

I'm paintin' flowers he said

She said... It's not the time for art young man

And anyway flowers are green and red

There's a time for everything young man

And a way it should be done

You've got to show concern for everyone else

For you're not the only one

And she said...

Flowers are red young man

Green leaves are green

There's no need to see flowers any other way

Than they way they always have been seen

But the little boy said...

There are so many colors in the rainbow

So many colors in the morning sun

So many colors in the flower and I see every one

Well the teacher said.. You're sassy

There's ways that things should be

And you'll paint flowers the way they are

So repeat after me.....

And she said...

Flowers are red young man

Green leaves are green

There's no need to see flowers any other way

Than they way they always have been seen

But the little boy said...

There are so many colors in the rainbow

So many colors in the morning sun

So many colors in the flower and I see every one

The teacher put him in a corner

She said.. It's for your own good..

And you won't come out 'til you get it right

And are responding like you should

Well finally he got lonely

Frightened thoughts filled his head

And he went up to the teacher

And this is what he said.. and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green

There's no need to see flowers any other way

Than the way they always have been seen

Time went by like it always does

And they moved to another town

And the little boy went to another school

And this is what he found

The teacher there was smilin'

She said...Painting should be fun

And there are so many colors in a flower

So let's use every one

But that little boy painted flowers

In neat rows of green and red

And when the teacher asked him why

This is what he said.. and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green

There's no need to see flowers any other way

Than the way they always have been seen.

But there still must be a way to have our children say . . .

There are so many colors in the rainbow

So many colors in the morning sun

So many colors in the flower and I see every one

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I don't have a lot of memories from my childhood as I've repressed them from trauma but I was repeatedly called:

Crybaby

Nigger

Paki

(I used to be a lot darker in complexion and grew up in a very small town--no muticulturalism there!)

But on the teacher front, I didn't have any mean ones.  I guess I was lucky in that respect.  Just mean-ass classmates.

Karen

Edited to add: I found out at 29 that my birth father actually is Pakistani...how appropriate of the little shits even if they were a little early...

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How names get engraved in our minds, eh?  I too was called crybaby...probably because I spent most of my time crying.  I ws just told to "get over it" by my parents when theyshould have been investigating some sort of therapy...but that's another threat (oooops I meant to say thread) -

I remember in grade 1 being in line to walk to the gym for gym class (which I hated since again I would just be shunned) and dashing into the music room where I could just hide behind the screen that was in the back of the room.  The funny (or sad) thing is - nobody ever noticed that I was missing.

hmmm

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Oh I could give you some serious horror stories from my grade school days.  And as for name calling, "Red head, red head, pissed the bed, wiped it up with jelly bread!"  Was chanted at me in preschool.  I was called, four-eyes when I got glasses in third grade, made fun of because of my red hair, called "blow job lips" because of my pouty lips, and I didn't even know what blow job was...hell, I don't think the kids knew either.  I was held down by boys and beaten up for reasons unknown.  And I'm a girl!  Why would boys do such a thing???  It was always boys who picked on me too.  Girls never said one earthly thing to me or made fun of me.

As for teachers...my kindergarten teacher didn't like how I signed my name and slapped my hand repeatedly with a ruler.

One horror story and this isn't too related to grade school, but in a way it was.  I was walking to the bus stop.  I was running a little late and the other kids were there.  I could see them.  And this ugly yellow car pulled up beside me.  I was in second grade when this happened and to this day I can remember every little detail about this.  This guy in the car asked me if I wanted a ride to school.  Mind you, I'm only a few hundred feet away from the bus stop and no one there cared that this car had stopped beside me and I could see that they were looking in my direction.  The guy was wearing a baseball cap that was filthy and greasy, a red and green flanel plaid shirt and tight blue jeans (which I'm sure were also bell bottoms because this was in the 70's).  At the time this happened, I didn't know he was doing something disgusting, but when I told my teacher he was holding something pink in between his legs, I remember her eyes going from small to extremely wide and her face going from normal color to pale.  I had no clue he was actually wacking off in front of me while he was asking me if I wanted a ride.  God, it still scares me to know that if I would have gotten in that car what would have happened to me that day.  What's even more scary is I can still vividly see that man's face and smile and how he was playing with himself in front of me.  My father was so mad at the kids at my bus stop.  I tried to make excuses for them, saying things like, they thought I knew the person in the car.  For several weeks after the whole incident, my father waited for me and watched me walk from the bus stop and part way up our hill to see if the guy would try to pick me up again.  I have no clue if the authorities were informed or not.  I know my teacher called my parents when I told her as soon as I got to school that morning.  But man, that was scary.  I know as soon as it happened, our school had a little assembly about talking to strangers. 

Elizabeth 

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I was never beaten up in school, thank goodness, but the kids were determined to harass and humiliate me any way they could.  I grew up in a small town, and went to school with the same kids from kindergarten through high school.  It was sheer helll.  I received a threatening phone call in sixth grade.  A boy told me if I went to school the next day, I'd be killed.  I recognised the voice, but there wasn't anything I could do about it.  This was in 1982, and the authorities would have ignored it. 

I have visions of attending my 20 year reunion in a few years time and casually mentioning the death in front of the man's wife and kids, just to see his reaction.  I doubt he even remembers.  Asshole.

Oh, just for the record, I did go to school the next day, and received no more than the usual spit-balls and incessant teasing.

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  • 4 weeks later...

i liked kindergarten. and first grade as well. it was the same teacher for both grades, and also both my brother and sister had her for kindergarten. second grade was the the beginning of school hatred. in third grade& fourth same teacher both years. she hated me because i was very outspoken in recess, also my mom worked and had a hard time coming to meetings. after that it really just sucked. after second grade i missed a lot of school because i didn't want to go.  teachers can be so mean. they can cause poor self esteem for the rest of your life. there are several i would love to tell to f*&% off.

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  • 4 weeks later...
  • 4 weeks later...

Geez, some of you had some pretty shitty teachers. If my son ever, EVER has a teacher even remotely as bad as some of those mentioned here....I'll OWN that bitch and she'll wish she were never born. 

Teachers at my school were nice.  It is an excellent school, and I'd like for my son to go to school there when the time comes for that reason.  The kids that attended the school were assholes, however.  Rich and snotty.  I was fat and poor.  I had to walk to school every single day.  I remember high school boys driving by when I was in grade school and "Mooooing" at me as they passed.  This went on for years.  I was tormented by other students on up until about junior high.  I was still fat and poor, but the teasing stopped.  I'm not sure why. 

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  • 1 month later...

Kids are fucking brutal to EVERYONE.  I had no friends, but...my teachers didn't suck too bad.  There was one that liked to humiliate people on their grades in front of everyone (the nun religion teacher; go figure).  The only really suck-ass teachers didn't come till highschool.  They liked to preach their opinions as fact, and didn't like it when students would disagree.  They liked it even less when we won the ensuing arguments. ::roguish grin::

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  • 2 months later...

I've had fucked up teachers, but I've always had very supportive parents who has ALWAYS backed me up.

Physical punishment has been illegal here for a long time, even for parents. This is a sane country. Well, almost.

God, I can't even imagine what my parents would have done if a teacher would beat me. Dead chopped up teacher , anyone?

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