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November 2, 2006
Not for Teacher...
Ah, the memories...
Good Thursday morning to ya, Chicklets! It's good to see you again! I've been in really deep lurk for the last few days as I finished up the rough draft of the book which may or may not be called CRAZY IN LOVE (waiting on my editor for the final decision) and which will be released from Warner sometime next fall. So, along with surviving yet another 11th hour rush to Wal-Mart for Halloween costumes, I'm feeling pretty celebratory right now. Hell, it's five o'clock somewhere, right?
Just kidding. I'm not blogging drunk. That would be really sad.
But funny.
Anyway, in honor of Whitney's new release, Testing Kate, we're having a "terrible teachers and classroom antics" theme week here and I'm not really sure where to start. There was my trig teacher from high school who used to ask a student a question, and if the student couldn't answer it, he'd wait the entire forty-five minute period, taunting them until they figured it out. Whenever we saw a girl crying in the hallway, the first question anyone would ask was, "Does she have Mr. D. for trig?" Bastard. He did, however, teach me the cure for hiccups. (Hold your breath, swallow three times, works like a charm.) I can only hope that spreading this small bit of good on behalf of Mr. D. will get him a better seat next to the hellfire.
There was also the time that P., a girl from my high school, came in one day with a sawed-off shotgun looking for my English teacher, Mrs. G. See, as it turns out, P. was a little perturbed that Mrs. G. had the nerve to fail P. just because P. didn't show up to class, do the homework, or learn how to properly spell "debris." (Damn that silent s!) Since no one was hurt (scared enough to need new underwear, yes, but hurt, no) and P. was easily one of the people you'd vote Most Likely to Snap Like a Fresh Green Bean, I was tempted to make a joke here about how P. was into school shootings before school shootings were cool, but a) that would date me, b) school shootings AREN'T COOL and isn't it wonderful that I'm here to tell everyone that, how would you know if it weren't for me teaching my morals? and c) I don't want to be stuck next to Mr. D. at the hellfire. I'm hoping for the spot next to the guy who created the Bratz dolls.
Also, I'm hip to the fact that that particular joke would lack taste and sensitivity. Which I have buttloads of.
If I had to choose the hands-down wackiest teacher ever, though, I think I'd choose Mr. F. He was my creative writing teacher in high school, and when I say he was insane, I'm not exaggerating. I truly believe that if someone with the proper qualifications had observed Mr. F. for any period of time, they would have deemed him positively certifiable. For one, on a particular day every year (I can't remember which one, but it was somehow Scottishly significant), he would wear a kilt, set a boombox at the front of his room, and blast bagpipe music through the halls. Halfway through my stint in high school, he changed his name to whatever his clan name was, and wouldn't answer when anyone addressed him as Mr. F. Occasionally, despite the fact that he was born and raised in New Jersey, he would break into a Scottish accent. A few years after I graduated, he married a girl from my class. That still gives me the ighs.
So - who was your craziest high school teacher?
This blog was brought to you by Whitney's new book, Testing Kate, a novel about surviving law school, finding love in unexpected places and turning your luck around.
Posted by Lani at 9:57 AM | Comments (10)
Comments
I went to Catholic school so the pool to choose from is large. I had one evil math teacher. A nun (I mention this as I think her bitterness over the bland fashion is what drove her to the dark side) made us sit according to how we had performed on our last test. Worst grade front row right and so on. We also would be called to the front and have to write how we did a problem on the board and then stand there while our classmates pointed out where we went wrong. No wonder I have a math block
The non LC Eileen
Posted by: Eileen at November 2, 2006 1:12 PM
You are too funny girl. Bet your ass you have buttloads of taste and class. Sensitivity, hmmm...just kidding. Of course you do.
I was asleep all through high school, so I wouldn't have noticed any of them anyway. And I'm sure that I did have some crazy college profs, but that's so long ago and my memory only recalls those that would chase the co-eds, as we called them in those days.
Posted by: hollygee at November 2, 2006 1:15 PM
The worst teacher I ever had . . . Mrs. S. for third grade. I once had to stay in at recess and sit in the corner for having read more of a book than was assigned. She also used to make poor Dougie W. (who today would have been drugged to the gills for his outrageously bad case of ADHD, but then was just a terror 24/7/365) stand with his nose on a special place on the blackboard marked "Dougie W.'s nose" that forced him to stand just a teensy little bit on his tippy toes.
The LC Eileen
Posted by: Eileen ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.literarychicks.com/nav-commenters.gif)
at November 2, 2006 1:32 PM
Lani's heard this one before, I think, but the Jr. Class Advisor at my high school was a real piece of work. Looked like Teddy Roosevelt and had all the class of Larry Flint. The funny thing, though (and you know I am very sensitive to disabilities, BUT) was his very unique speech impediment.
He couldn't say ells-- they always came out rs (or shall I say arways?) This was never more evident than the day he was on the loudspeaker announcing when it was time to come down to vote in the student body elections:
"It is now time for the Junior Crass Erections."
"It is now time for the Senior Crass Erections."
Come on, even the principal was cracking up at that! Whoever decided he would be the one on the PA was either a moron or had one twisted sense of humor.
Posted by: Cate at November 2, 2006 1:47 PM
Oh, Cate, that hurt! I'm going to be snickering all day!
LC Eileen
Posted by: Eileen at November 2, 2006 1:59 PM
Isn't it weird that I also had an odd teacher with a Scottish accent--Italian last name and Scottish accent. He taught senior chemistry and regularly set himself on fire with various chemicals.
My worst teacher though, was my grade three teacher. She walked around the room smacking a leather strap on our desks to terrorize us into silence. Her husband worked shift work and around 2:30 every other week he'd pass their child through the window to her so the principal didn't know he was there. That way they didn't have to pay for babysitting between the time he left for work and she got home. In the meantime, she'd strap our desks so we would be too afraid to tell anyone about her son in the classroom.
Posted by: Kim at November 3, 2006 7:18 AM
My personal worst was 5th grade. He used to pick his ears and then wipe it on students as he walked past them. Or... He would stick the eraser of his pencil in his ear and then lick it. Yuck!
I know, not that bad. YUCK!!
Posted by: Jo at November 3, 2006 9:13 AM
I think I have strategically blocked all school memories from my brain. Because I really don't want to go back there.
Let's see, there was Mr. H, the 6th grade teacher who got in trouble for throwing a desk at a student (I think all of us kids had him for 6th grade) and who had a large paddle in his class room that he wasn't afraid to use. The other 6th grade teacher, whom I had for math, was a pervert who used to try to stare down my shirt and liked to sit in class and play pocket pool. Also, he sent me to the principal's office because I asked a question about something I got wrong on a math test.
Posted by: Dia at November 3, 2006 11:43 AM
Lan, the sure fire way to get rid of hiccups is a drizzle of Bitters on a wedge of lime. Stick it between your top and bottom teeth and suck. Not another hick up. Kills 'em instantly. Learned that from a bartender. They have much to teach. I will however try your method next time as I don't keep bitters in the pantry, though I should, it's an interesting little product and even has recipes. Also an essential ingredient in a Manhattan. Speaking of Manhattans, what's wrong with blogging drunk? I'm drunk now! Heh, heh, not yet (I agree sad, yes, but also funny, yes) but I will be soon, Date Night starts in 3 hours. I really just wanted to congratulate you on the draft of your new book. Go Lan! I love ya.
p.s. Congrats to Whitney too for Testing Kate.
Posted by: Monica at November 4, 2006 12:43 PM
Lani- from someone who went to high school with you-I am still laughing- thanks for making my day!
Posted by: Laura at November 6, 2006 9:51 AM
