Ever had a teacher who seemed to be out to get you?

[Zellie Crescent]

I had a math teacher in high school who wasn't out to get us, but she didn't seem to care whether or not we learned anything. About 3 percent of the time we spent in her class we actually did learn stuff the rest of the time she just talked about shopping, doing her nails, her credit card debt, etc. I have more bully stories than shitty teacher stories if there's a separate thread.

[BroSCFischer]

Kinda sorta, to answer the OP's question:

When I was in second grade, I had a teacher we called Mr. Spaghetti ('cause his name was somewhat similar). He was a good teacher, and a nice guy. That Christmas, he made up some Christmas carol parodies, using the names of various students, including mine. It embarrassed the heck out of me, but he only did it that ONE time, so I got over it pretty quickly. (This story was basically background for the next one, which is the true answer to the OP's question).

When I was in ninth grade, I had a Homeroom/Health teacher who set my first name to a song from a classic movie. He sand it a few times, when taking attendance for class. I, being EXTREMELY shy around authority figures, politely asked him to stop it at one point, and he said "I'd be honored if someone made up a song with MY name." And continued to sing this song for the rest of the year. When I discovered in 12th grade that I was again scheduled to have him for Health class, I made it my business to go down to the school and switch to the other teacher. (I wasn't the only one, either).

That's my tale.

SC

[catcul]

My second grade teacher's aide seemed to hate children. That's a bad thing when teaching 7-year-olds. She denied a girl when she had to go to the bathroom. When the little girl wet herself, she sent the little girl to the principal's office. She sent me to the principal's office for getting a piece of paper out of my notebook. Thankfully, the principal believed me. If you're wondering, the second grade teacher was useless.

My eleventh grade pre-calculus told my parents, the head of the math department, and the principal that she was going to flunk me because she thought I was cheating. (I wasn't.) When she was asked to produce evidence, it was extremely flimsy. The sad thing is that that woman had 15 years of experience. I did not find out about this until I graduated high school.

That means that she didn't tell me that she suspected me of cheating. Does that make any sense to anyone else?

[MaggieTheCat]

This is a bit of a long story, so I'll try to give the Reader's Digest version here.

I was an avid band member, to the point that I'd volunteer for every band activity I could and was planning on going to college to be a music teacher. When I was a Freshman (9th grade, first year of HS at my school), the band director was a guy, we'll call Mr. M, who was not well liked by the students, the faculty, or the parents. There were a variety of reasons for this, most of which were not his fault: He came in as the replacement of a guy who was absolutely beloved by everyone else who had quit a couple years prior, and the school had recently switched from 7-period to 4-period days, resulting in a huge drop in band enrollment.

Anyway, I liked Mr. M just fine but by the end of my Freshman year, he had been forced to resign, and the school hired the very first person who interviewed for a job, a guy who was fresh out of college named Mr. J. Everyone loved Mr. J from the moment he set foot in the school, mainly because he wasn't Mr. M, therefore he was sure to be wonderful.

Let me tell you a few things Mr. J did during band rehearsal. If he was not satisfied with someone's performance, he would swear at them and/or call them names like pathetic and worthless. He would throw various objects, including his conductor's baton, pencils, books of music, and his shoes, at people if he got mad at them. He would single students out and send them out of the room if they didn't perform to his expectations, then lament in front of the rest of the band about how terrible they were. He himself would walk out of class in the middle of practice if rehearsal was not going to his expectations, and not come back until the next period would start.

This kind of thing did not sit well with me and eventually I reported him to the school counselor, then the principal, then the superintendent. None of them took me seriously and of course this got me landed in the doghouse with Mr. J. He became very cold toward me and I later heard that he would bad-mouth me in front of the band behind my back.

The last straw came when I told him I was not going to go on the spring band trip, about a month before the trip was to be held. He told me I had no reason to be practicing with the band for the next month, then, since the only stuff they'd be working on would be what they were going to perform during the trip. This was completely bogus, since everything the band was performing for the trip was pep band music (stuff the band would play during football games, etc.) and we had been playing it all year, so we didn't need a full month's practice on it. Plus, I was not the only student not going on the trip, but he didn't send the rest of them away. He told me I would have to spend my band periods in the library, and that I would need a new hall pass every day so I'd have to come to his office during band rehearsal to get one. (in other words, he made me walk past the rest of the band every day, who now hated me because he had told them what an evil little bitch I was for abandoning them at the last minute.)

After about 2 days of this, Mr. J pulled me into his office, shut the door, and told me, very coldly and threateningly, "I know you are not happy with the current situation, and neither am I. You had better think very hard about what you're doing if you want a future in this class." Then he gave me the hall pass and sent me on my way. I tried to go to the counselor's office so I could talk to them about the issue, but apparently Mr. J had sicced one of the hall monitors on me, and when she saw me deviate from the route to the library, she told me I was to go no where except the library and talk to no one or I would have detention.

So after school I went to the counselor's office and dropped band. I snuck into the band room to grab my possessions -- a couple of instruments, and a bunch of sheet music -- and never went back. Of course, after that the band hated me even more and a couple of them even told me to my face what a horrible person I was for what I'd done to them and Mr. J. This continued for the rest of my HS career since apparently Mr. J would continue telling my story to the lower classmen as an "example" of how not to behave in his class.

Ah, but in the end, there was sweet, sweet karma. The year after I graduated high school, I received a call from a police detective who asked me a bunch of questions about Mr. J. He had gotten my name and number from the school, since I had filed a bunch of reports against Mr. J with them and those reports were in his file, which the police were apparently investigating. The detective couldn't give me the details right away, but I told him what I knew about Mr. J, and a couple of days later, the local news was plastered with the story about how Mr. J had been arrested for 16 counts of sexual abuse against a minor (not the same student, there were at least half a dozen involved that the police were aware of.) Apparently he would have parties at his place of residence (disguised as private music lessons for his best students) where he'd hand out drugs and alcohol and let students pass out so he could do stuff to them.

He is, or at least was (this was 10+ years ago so he may be out by now) serving the terms of his plea bargain in the local state penitentiary.

[Sapphire Silk]

Let's see:

There was the English and Math teacher's in 7th grade who accused me of using my learning disability as a "crutch" and made a point of ignoring every recommendation from the professionals at Children's Hospital (Wash DC) that would have helped me improve.

There was the English teacher who openly bullied me in 8th grade, and allowed a student to pound me to a pulp right in front of him. He tried the same BS on my brother three years later, but Dad was wise to him and put a quick stop to it.

There was the band teacher who didn't notify my parents that marching band practice began before the official school year. He did this to me and several other students that he didn't want in marching band . . . even though county rules said he had to take everyone.

Then there was my BSN instructor who thought I had an attitude problem because my peers didn't accept me right away. They'd been working together for three years when I entered their class and was group with them; they didn't like working with an experienced nurse who knew more than they did. I didn't make that an issue; the other students did. She told me I had an attitude problem, that I was arrogant, and that she wanted to "mentor me." Yeah, right. I politely declined and told her I could manage; I did. By graduation my classmates and I were friends.

But that didn't stop her from forcing me to participate in a group presentation when I had a fever of 103 F (bad case of the flu), or force my peers to take a grade of zero (I was willing to take the zero since she wouldn't let me make it up because I was that sick). It didn't stop her from forcing me to make up two weeks of work that I missed when my flu turned into pneumonia . . . that she didn't tell me I had to make up until Finals Week when I was trying to finish my finals and move.

Finally, there was my grad school instructor. I was in a group with three other students for several group projects. One of them was a raging bitch and a control freak who was driving the rest of us crazy for not "checking in" and "communicating" with her on our progress several times EVERY DAY. I worked a full time job, i didn't have time to play mother may I games. I took control for the first group project and settled things down, but it was so time consuming I told everyone someone else would have to do it for our other projects. I'd do my part, and do it well, but I wasn't going to waste my time with power plays and passive aggressive behavior.

We got A's on every assignment. My instructor dinged me just enough points for not working and playing well with others to drop my grade to a B . . . when I wasn't even the student who was the problem. It really pissed me off. That particular instructor is the model for everything I strive NOT to be as a nursing instructor.

[Cooper]

Closest I got was this guy:

He was a choir teacher, but there were lots of sexual harassment rumors suggesting why he was moved to a more gender-neutral class. But then that class became required, and he was the only teacher who taught it.

He caught me doing homework for another class. I may have told him that class was higher in priorities than his, because I was more worried about failing that class.

He gave us 15 minutes to do a 30 minute test. (I finished early even for that time and got a B.) He told my parents I was a really awful student, but they were kinda "0_o"

[fireheart]

Let's see:

There was the English and Math teacher's in 7th grade who accused me of using my learning disability as a "crutch" and made a point of ignoring every recommendation from the professionals at Children's Hospital (Wash DC) that would have helped me improve.

As someone who is currently learning about learning disabilities and how to work with students who have them, the attitude of those teachers is just

That said, sadly it's not uncommon down here either. At uni, the undergrad and postgrad special education students share classes with their mainstream counterparts. This is for both primary and secondary. My secondary special ed compatriots (all two and a half of them . the "half" is because he completed the majority of his classes as a primary teacher, but swapped to a secondary focus halfway through this year) have found that their mainstream counterparts do not like having students with special needs in their classes and have even admitted on more than one occasion that they would rather work in a school where special needs students are placed in special classes or the students are tiered according to how well they do on tests.

[Sapphire Silk]

As someone who is currently learning about learning disabilities and how to work with students who have them, the attitude of those teachers is just

Well, you can tell your classmates this for me.

I succeeded in SPITE of my teachers in middle school, not because of them. I'm lucky; I like learning, and was willing to do the work on my own to learn. The only subject I had trouble with was math.

Then I got this awesome algebra teacher in my first year at the community college and all of a sudden it all made sense! He had a great sense of humor, and understood that people learn differently. He was willing to help students having trouble, and he just knew how to connect with people.

If I could have had him in high school, I'd be able to do calculus.

[dalesys]

... I'd be able to do calculus.

Other than kidney and gall stones.

[Cooper]

Oh, I forgot about this one:

My sister went to an advanced school for math and science. Her second year teacher caused a lot of problems for her, because of things directly related to her Aspergers, like not looking her in the eye when talking, or not asking questions often enough when she needed help.

During conferences, my mother told the teacher my sister was on the autism spectrum (something she makes a point to tell all her teachers from here on out, except one I had before and told her not to do--the teacher would have immediately accused her of trying to get out of work) and the teacher's eyes about bugged out.

Of course, that didn't mean anything. My mother must have brought that teacher into the principal's office several times, along with the counselor and my sister over different problems. When my sister went to the counselor to say she wanted to go back to her district school full time, the counselor was like "oh, honey, we can work this out."

My sister was like: "It's too late for that, and you should know that."

[RayvenQ]

There was only really a coyple of out to get you teachers at my highschool, although they seemed out to get ALL of us or some of us, rather than any one person in particular.

Mrs S, who was blatantly of the mindset that only boys caused trouble, my most stunning example of that was when we were in science class, one girl C (a real trouble maker but oddly I always got along with her, details further down) was running around causing havoc, I was busy doing a experiment that included boiling water, C, running about, ran into me, causing her to get a tiny bit of hot water on her, and the rest of it on me, guess who got detention for that!

Mrs D, she was, well, a real witch, especially to my clas though, she really had it in for our class, but, she really, really picked the wrong class to screw with. Long story short, thanks to the actions of quite a few of our class (not me, I never did anything) she ended up having a nervous breakdown and quit teaching. If I was a meaner person, I'd say she kinda deserved it for how horrible she was .

Now onto a story about classmate C.

C was, well the british term was, rough. She was also prone to causing chaos, the biggest example being one day in English class, when the teacher wasn't around, someone pissed her off, and I mean really pissed her off, which resulted in her throwing tables and chairs around the classroom, I found this hilarious because, every single member of the class was cowering in the corner because of it, except me, I was sat in the middle of the classroom, my chair and table perfectly fine, with upturned tables and chairs strewn about the place. I didn't run, because I was decent friends with her and knew she'd not throw a chair at me or something.

[mathnerd]

I had a number of bad teachers throughout the years, but only one that fits this thread: my middle school band teacher.

When I was in the 6th grade I decided I wanted to play the oboe. I'm not sure why he decided this, but he told me it would be a waste of my time because the oboe would be too difficult for me to ever learn. As it turned out, I was pretty darned good. 6 years later I got a certain delight in mailing him a copy of my acceptance letter* to The Julliard School.

*While I was accepted to the school, I had to decline matriculation, as between the day of my audition and the day I received the acceptance letter, I got into a mountain climbing accident that destroyed my wrists and hands, permanently ending my music career.

[Amanita]

I have a few..My fourth grade teacher was something else- sometimes he would be nice as pie, and if you fessed up to doing something, he would thank you for your honesty. Other times, Oh gods what a temper. I have memories of him getting down in my face and screaming at me in the hallway, reducing me to tears on more than one occasion.

My fifth grade teacher- Oh gods what a bitch. She decided I wasn't feminine enough for her, and criticized me constantly. She felt I shouldn't ever talk about my own accomplishments, as that was "blowing my own horn", and wrong. I shouldn't talk about tomboyish or gross things, because that was unladylike. And she didn't like the way I walked, either. I remember her taking me into the hallway and making me trace my steps, using the 12" square floor tiles as reference- a single ladylike step should be no more than the length of one tile, she believed. She also had an obsession with making us line up in "boy-girl-boy-girl" order. And whenever I was first in line, she would put a boy ahead of me, so he was first. I guess she thought I was "too full of myself", by getting to the head of the line first, and wanted to put me in my place.

If I ever had a kid and a teacher pulled that crap, I would be all over them. I'm sorry, it's not your job to gender-police my child, or force your definition of "ladylike" onto other people's children.

[Dentarthurdent]

I had this teacher in high school who seemed to utterly despise me. He seemed to feel that way about everyone, but I was special. I felt at the time that he was short and bald and was taking it out on everyone that he was not tall and hairy. As someone who's engaged to a bald man, I have kind of relaxed my stance on WHY he was a jerk, but boy, was he a jerk.

As an aside, he wore tacky sweatervests and made us listen to Jimmy Buffett on our way into class every day. I have recovered from my erstwhile hate of Jimmy Buffett, but I still hate sweatervests.

This guy was my drama teacher, and I had him briefly for an...well, it was essentially an English class for the lazy. In that class I once refused to do a "thought exercise" where we had to choose who to kill in a hypothetical situation, and I had the pleasure of making the vein on the side of his head stand out (it always bulged when he was really mad).

I was never given any kind of starring role, despite the fact the other seniors in my drama class were routinely offered those roles. In our production of Damn Yankees, I was something like "Broom Dancer #4". I was in choir, so I could obviously sing.

In drama class, I sat at a table right near the stage (we had a cafetorium, which is every bit as idiotic as it sounds). I was talking to my friends, we were early on in the play, and my cue was nowhere near. I walked over to the drinking fountain on the side of the room to get a drink, and as I was drinking heard the teacher shout that we were going to rehearse the song "Six Months Out Of Every Year", which featured the broom dancers. I turned around and walked toward the stage, and he shouted at me that I wasn't moving fast enough, and to get my broom and get up there. I continued walking (I have two speeds, normally - moderate and sitting still) and was told that I was no longer in the play.

My mother made me apologize in writing (the thought of which still fills me with rage) and offer my services doing sound or lighting board, because I had ample experience doing both at church. The teacher told me I could do sound and wouldn't apologize to me at all, just said "I think we're both very stubborn people". So I viewed Damn Yankees from the sound booth.

At the cast party, which happened at the teacher's house, there was pizza and pop and bottled water. I drank about half a bottle of water before looking at the label and flipping my shit. I confronted the teacher.
"Are you trying to kill me? This has lavender in it."
The drama teacher said nothing, just smirked at me.
The band and choir director looked over at me and said "Why would you NOT read the label before you drink it?"
"Because it's bottled water? Because it's BERRY FLAVORED bottled water? I don't expect my BEVERAGES to have an herb I'm deathly allergic to in them, sorry. It's not shampoo."
My mother came and got me within the next hour and took me home to get my inhaler and Benadryl and fed me ipecac, an experience I will happily never repeat because ipecac is no longer available for purchase.

The kicker was that within a few weeks, I saw a piece of paper listing every (reported) student's medical issues sitting on the drama teacher's desk, including my heavy periods and allergy to lavender. I don't have proof that he tried to kill me, of course not, but I wanted to hate him.

After Damn Yankees, we had very little season left, and we were going to put on a series of skits and poem recitations for the elementary school kids. I asked for, and received, permission to do the Spam skit of Monty Python fame. I even had a friend with a Viking helmet who agreed to participate. Unfortunately, nobody else was much into memorizing their lines. A couple days before the performance, the teacher pulls me aside and says "You're not doing Monty Python."
"Well, why not? Everybody just got their lines memorized; it's really coming together."
"I don't like it. It's WEIRD."
"Then what am I going to do?"
"You can read this." He hands me a Shel Silverstein poem and walks away. I really wish I knew what poem it was, because I usually like Shel Silverstein, but all I remember about it is that I hated it on sight. I asked him, "Can I pick a different Shel Silverstein poem?"
"NO."
"Well, why not?"
"You had ample time to pick out a skit to do."
"YOU JUST TOLD ME THE SKIT WE HAVE BEEN PRACTICING FOR WEEKS WAS WEIRD AND UNACCEPTABLE. I AM DONE. I'M DONE." I started walking down the aisle (the school had installed a new auditorium that had just been completed in time for a concert and the Damn Yankees show).
"If you walk out that door, you're not coming back to my class!"
"GOOD." I still remember the horrified preppy girl looking at me and going "NO! [DENTARTHURDENT], DON'T...DO...IT!" and stretching her hand out to me. You could tell we were in drama class...I spent the remaining three weeks of the semester sitting that class period out in the library. He only bumped me down an entire letter grade over it, so no skin off my butt.

The teacher gave a "roast" at one of our many graduation parties, the introduction of which was so offensive that the superintendent of the school district walked out of the room before the roast actually began. In it, he stated that "if you have legs like tree trunks, don't wear shorts to my class", which is a rant all by itself. Especially coming from someone whose heat wasn't usually turned off until the end of MAY.

When my brother had him years later for English classes, he swore he treated him extra-crappily, probably based on him having the same last name as mine. It's not a common name.

[protege]

I've had a couple sucky teachers.

First one that comes to mind, was in first grade, when I was still in public school. This bitch (and I'm being nice), apparently didn't like that I'd taught myself to read, and was bored with the "Dick and Jane" books. Sorry, but I didn't give a damn what those two, nor Spot, was up to. Let me read about sports cars, rockets, or anything else. But no, I didn't have enough to do, and probably acted up because of it. So naturally, I spent most of that year "in trouble" or in the principal's office. As for that guy, he was a prick. In fact, he let it slip in front of my parents...that I was "too stupid, and would never amount to anything." He's lucky my dad didn't decide to take his ass out

7th grade, I took a *lot* of shit from people, including the science teacher. This bitch decided I was one of her "special projects" and was deserving of being constantly made fun of. At least the bitch is dead, so I don't have to worry about running into her.

Freshman year of high school sucked balls. Mainly because I had to relearn some things...and had difficulty with others. Algebra was never my thing--I never could get my head around it. First semester of that was OK. Second...not so much. We had a student teacher...who seemed to have it in for freshmen. Quite a few of us managed to fail the class.

So some of us went to the guidance office for a solution. Did our then-counselor listen? Nope, we got blamed. This counselor sat on her ass, and didn't care. There was some bullshit about how she "had Lyme disease" and therefore got a free pass. That changed after a massive protest at the school board meeting. Not only did the sucky student teacher get removed, but we all switched to the awesome guidance counselor, who actually *gave* a shit about us. Still had to deal with taking Algebra I over the summer though. But then, it was easier. The guy who taught me did it differently, and I was able to understand it.

Senior year high school wasn't fun either. By then, I no longer cared what went on. One way or another, I was GTFO'ing. That February, I wrote off my car, and missed school a few days. Rather than let me make up the work I'd missed, my accounting teacher insisted that I take the scheduled test... since I "knew about it." Sure bitch, never mind that my neck is in a brace, I've been heavily sedated since the accident, never mind some mental issues going on as well, I'll get right on that.

The test in question was based on a packet we'd done earlier. The packet simulated keeping the ledgers and other items for an office supply business. Due to lack of concentration in class (one of the effects of depression, folks), some of the packet wasn't quite right. So naturally, I was stressing out, and tried to get some relief. Denied, during the middle of the test, I walked over to her desk said "if you're not going to help me with this, fuck you," threw the packet at her...and walked out of class

I spent the rest of the day in the guidance office. When that class was over, I had my awesome guidance counselor call the teacher's room...and promptly ripped her a new one Even so, it didn't spare me from the wrath that was coming Didn't care, since that was my last year. I gave that place the finger, and laid rubber out of there.