Can you forgive your teachers?

[Twed]

Mrs England? Sounds a bit UKIP. "If you love England so much why don't you marry it? Oh, you did..."

100% certain, name aside. This is a C of E school in the horsey part of Essex we're talking about here.

Either that or she had been a Miss World contestant once and you were too young to perv over appreciate her.

She was a rotund middle-aged lady. Mrs. England as a name suited her so much that if she were a fictional character you'd have to not use that as her name because it's too obvious.

Here's some fiction I've written about her though:

Mrs. England was allowed to be a teacher in the early 90s. She was very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very cunt.

[Twed]

My school was fucking obsessed with handwriting and my teachers even sent me for "handwriting lessons" one time. Even in the 1990s I could see that it wouldn't be long before we'd all be using computers so I put no fucking effort whatsoever into improving my handwriting, and now I'm an adult and do everything on computers I'm glad I didn't bother wasting valuable time and energy on it. My school's petty obsession with handwriting taught me a valuable lesson, but not the one they intended.

Ugh, yes. I'm reasonably bright and didn't find school academically challenging, exams were always As and Bs etc., but outdated values about things like handwriting often had me treated as a special needs student. Special devices to put on my pen so I'd hold it correctly, ridiculous amounts of criticism over my scruffy writing. It's frustrating to see it all from an adult's perspective, knowing that the teachers were mistaken in placing importance on something that clearly doesn't matter a jot.

[Sebastian Cobb]

My school was fucking obsessed with handwriting and my teachers even sent me for "handwriting lessons" one time. Even in the 1990s I could see that it wouldn't be long before we'd all be using computers so I put no fucking effort whatsoever into improving my handwriting, and now I'm an adult and do everything on computers I'm glad I didn't bother wasting valuable time and energy on it. My school's petty obsession with handwriting taught me a valuable lesson, but not the one they intended.

I had handwriting lessons as well, and got extra time in exams because teachers decided I struggled with 'fine motor control' I suppose that could be dyspraxia but I've never been given a formal diagnosis as far as I know.

Although I don't write anything that anyone else needs to read and do all my work on computers I find I'm much better at formulating ideas or taking notes with a pen, I seem to find it much freer than using a computer and I can draw little diagrams that make sense to nobody else (or indeed me several days later) but are valuable at the time just because my memory is terrible as well.

I was at a seminar the other week for Amazon's computing stuff and I was surrounded by people (programmers mostly) taking notes in text editors on laptops, I felt like a luddite jotting down things on a pad.

In terms of education it seems that schools are still continuing the tradition of embracing it while being utterly clueless.

[QDRPHNC]

As an addendum to my post, I would like to add that I'm still not good at French, yet don't need it at all even in Canada, and Mr. McCleary is now dead. So needless to say, I had the last laugh.

[greencalx]

In terms of education it seems that schools are still continuing the tradition of embracing it while being utterly clueless.

Every so often I have to go through some online training module that comes with a test at the end that you have to pass to keep HR happy.

I c&p the training text into a text editor as I click through, which then makes the test a doddle.

[Sebastian Cobb]

I think I've passed every single one of those by skipping to the end and using guesswork.

[Depressed Beyond Tables]

I can't forgive the sexy ones.

[Mr Faineant]

I used to swear to myself that when I got big, I'd go back and beat the fuck out of my headmaster. He was a cruel, vile, "English chap" type posh cunt. It was one of those small private schools that was in an old Victorian house in Nottingham. I remember his big fat fingers, and his burned-bits-of-cheese-on-a-pizza looking blemishes on his hands. He used to take those big fat fingers and jab them into childrens chests as he lambasted them for minor infractions. Mr. Charles his name was. I of course never did go and beat the fuck out of him. You can't really do that sort of thing in the real world. Not if you are a normal, civilized person.

I still hate him though.

[mothman]

I've passed a few of these very small private schools dotted around the Cotswolds, often wonder what the economics of them is. What ages they-cater to, how many pupils they have, what it costs. Mine was a large school. It's now mostly Russian oligarchs' and Chinese politburo members' kids go there now, I gather.

[Sebastian Cobb]

I saw If.... for the first time ever today, seeing as it's relevant.

[Utter Shit]

My school was quite nice and I am more than happy to forgive the teachers who told me off when I was being a dickhead.

[Captain Z]

I think I've passed every single one of those by skipping to the end and using guesswork.

Yes this was my strategy when i had to take one the other day. Should have taken 45 minutes but I got through in 8 which included the time taken to restart when it crashed on Q3. What annoyed me was that i knew I was pretty close to the required 80% so Googled the last question to be certain - which according to the test gave me an incorrect answer. Probably should have opened the link instead of just reading the text on the Google results page, but still. Anyway, I still got 81% so IN YOUR FACE data protection act.

[Isnt Anything]

I saw If.... for the first time ever today, seeing as it's relevant.

I know a gentleman who went to the actual school where most of it was shot and was caned in the same gymnasium in an almost identical manner.

[Rizla]

When I was in first or second year I had a stupid old twat of a maths teacher who loved to chuck me out of the class and make me sit at a desk in the corridor, either because I'd been impudent (enquiring as to the difference between a theorem and a theory, for example), or more usually because I'd get sick of being used as a punchbag by the bullying wee twats either side of me and start acting up (I'd shout a random roger irrelevantism like "cabbages!"). I didn't mind, I liked being left to it and I was actually pretty good at maths and quite enjoyed the subject. Anyway, Mr Bateman(!) who had the classroom opposite and was a brass button blazer wearing bald (natch) red faced inadequate prick decided to give me a talking to one time, which he ended with threatening to "batter" me. Seeing the tears forming in my eyes (I was a sensitive lad), the fucker suddenly realised what he was doing and started to panic and be all nice to me, which weirdly made it worse and more harrowing. I didn't tell anyone about it for years, not even my mum, I think it fucked me up schoolwise and made me hate all teachers. Got expelled start of 5th year. So no I don't forgive that scumbag. If a teacher did that to one of my kids I'd do jail time for him, happily. Cunt.

[Zetetic]

Got the handwriting stuff a lot. Was assessed as "ambisinister", which no-one finds as funny as I do. Worst was probably a chemistry teacher where I think the illegibility became a bit of an unpleasant power struggle for both of us.

Had to put up with an insistence on handwriting essays from one tutor at university as well, which meant writing the essays on a computer and then scrawling them out at 0400 on tutorial-day every week.

Oh well. Years ago. Never mind.

[canadagoose]

which he ended with threatening to "batter" me.
Got expelled start of 5th year.

That sounds really Scottish. Are you? We seem to have a high proportion of psychopathic teachers for some reason. I wasn't that badly off in terms of teachers, but we had some roasters. Necessary roasters considering the state of a lot of the pupils (due to the crap economic state of the town), but most teachers seemed to like me because I was quiet and kept myself to myself. PE teachers never liked me, though. I was crap at PE.

[Rizla]

That sounds really Scottish. Are you?

Indeed I am. In fact I believe we "stay" in the same area, CG.

[Sony Walkman Prophecies]

Fee paying schools? I've had similar experiences and have struggled myself to forgive, though I have forgotten - mostly due to boredom/the simple passing of time.

The thing about private or 'good' schools is that they basically see themselves as a business rather than providing a social service: which is, primarily, ensuring the safety and welfare of their students, not teaching - as the common misconception goes; a fact that could perhaps be made clear to them more often if we called them 'carers' rather than 'teachers'. But given the kind of stuff that goes in actual care homes, I doubt it would make much of a difference. At any rate, the business of a good school is to be a business. And that means making sure they feature as high as possible in the league tables. On the ground, AKA for the people whose job it is to be taught, this means having to put up known pests/bullies who are unfortunately also high achievers. I personally knew someone who'd done enough damage to another student that he needed extensive reconstructive dental work. Yet he nonetheless skipped down the halls free as a bird, safe in the knowledge that - having reasonably high marks - they'd never seriously consider kicking him out. On the flip side, I knew someone who'd been sent to a psychologist at the insistence of the school for the unpardonable offence of not producing very good homework. Happily, in that particular case though, the psychologist could see what was going on and told the school to fuck off.

Happy days. For any sadist or idiot.

[saltysnacks]

I used to swear to myself that when I got big, I'd go back and beat the fuck out of my headmaster. He was a cruel, vile, "English chap" type posh cunt. It was one of those small private schools that was in an old Victorian house in Nottingham. I remember his big fat fingers, and his burned-bits-of-cheese-on-a-pizza looking blemishes on his hands. He used to take those big fat fingers and jab them into childrens chests as he lambasted them for minor infractions. Mr. Charles his name was. I of course never did go and beat the fuck out of him. You can't really do that sort of thing in the real world. Not if you are a normal, civilized person.

I still hate him though.

I intimidated a teacher who used to bullly me simply by standing next to him in a shop. The fact that I am now much bigger than him probably did it.

[greencalx]

I seem to have been very lucky...

Even though I was/am shit at PE (in the dad's race at sports day last year I only came second to last because someone else fell over) my PE teachers didn't have the sadistic tendencies that seem an essential qualification for the job. I think this was in part due to my developing a strategy of running towards the ball but  letting someone else get to it first. (I continue to use this at work). That way the teacher would see me "making an effort" and leave me alone.

Nevertheless there was a massive cloud over my head until Tuesday lunchtime when the outdoors games lesson was out of the way. I'm not sure why I hated it so much. Possibly a combined fear of getting hurt by one of the other kids, being very publicly shit at something and the showers. Even though the teachers were fairly decent, they still allowed their favourites to be team captains and pick teams, and I would inevitably be the last to be picked, and get shouted at by the other kids for being shit when the game got underway. At least the teachers didn't join in with the bullying (as I've heard is quite common) but they didn't prevent it either.

I've long wondered at what would happen if, say, maths classes were operated the same way where the two geeks in each class got to humiliate the innumerate on a weekly basis. Maybe they do in some places.

[Ian Drunken Smurf]

My A Level Latin teacher had a passing resemblance to Jonathan King and considered himself a sartorial expert and a stickler for precision and doing things properly. So when I worked on his summer school helping some Italians make up a newsletter, for which they received a certificate at the end of the week, I had some extra certificates made and signed by him. I might just have awarded him the Gordon Gecko shirt appreciation award, the Gino Ginelli pizza perfect award and the Emperor Nero self-aggrandisation award. I expect he was ruddy bloody mad, since needless to say I had had the last laugh... I saw him at a reunion and towered over him. He also dropped a bollock when I revealed that I had put his phone number on the "Brian the Snail kinky Hotline" in 1995.

[gib]

Indeed I am. In fact I believe we "stay" in the same area, CG.

I hate to derail this excellent thread, and i know the answer is probably going to be 'no' but did we use to play Red Alert online together?

[yesitsme]

When I was in first or second year for some reason our Physics teacher, Mr Lees started asking me questions.  If I got one right I was ok, if I got one wrong he'd remove an item of my clothing.  This was in front of the class by the way.  Shoes, tie, jumper, socks, shirt all came off as the questions got harder and harder.

By the end of it I was just sat in my trousers.

Did I go to his funeral when he snuffed it no.  I think I was one of about five pupils who were shunned for not paying him his last respects but y'know.  Grudges are fun aren't they?

How this didn't work it's way back to the head teacher I will never know.

Should I have told my parents?  Perhaps, I'm glad I didn't. My dad would have been inside for a long, long time if I had.

Do I forgive him?  Yeah, I don't think it was anything sexual just something that got out of hand.  I think.  Perhaps it was, perhaps he was a cunt.

A dead cunt.

[Gregory Torso]

When I was in first or second year for some reason our Physics teacher, Mr Lees started asking me questions.  If I got one right I was ok, if I got one wrong he'd remove an item of my clothing.  This was in front of the class by the way.  Shoes, tie, jumper, socks, shirt all came off as the questions got harder and harder.

By the end of it I was just sat in my trousers.

Did he only do this to you, or was it a general "punishment" for any pupil he fancied? Either way that's fucked up.

[EOLAN]

I an forgive my English teacher for telling his young daughters that I was an evil guy as I happened to walk past them on the street.

[yesitsme]

Did he only do this to you, or was it a general "punishment" for any pupil he fancied? Either way that's fucked up.

No, I was the only one (to my knowledge, definitely the only one in our class) who got to play this very special version of Cabbages and Kings.

Do you think I could sue Salford LEA?

[Huxleys Babkins]

Our school was rough as fuck but the teachers were mostly alright.

One geography teacher who was really strict was a Mr. Lewis. He was gay, so all the kids hated him even more. A group of parents decided that he was keeping their lads back for detention because he was grooming them (as opposed to the fact that their kids were lazy, disruptive cunts who never did their homework) and threatened to go to the police and the papers if they didn't get rid of him. The school didn't find any wrongdoing but it was agreed that it would be best for everyone if he resign. He was a bit of a dick, but he didn't deserve that.

His replacement was Miss Edwards, a pretty young teacher who reminded us of Kelly Brook. She wore blouses with a massive cleavage and we used to drop stationary off our desks when she walked past and she would always bend down to pick it up giving us an eyeful in the process. I can't believe she never twigged.

Maybe she did twig and fucking loved it.

Dirty cow.

[gilbertharding]

Here's a good one.

I did Geography A Level for some reason. I got a 'U'. Anyway, on the field trip we spent a day measuring the depth, channel profile, flow speed etc of a river, starting at the source up in the hills, at mile intervals until we got to where it flowed through a town, and was quite wide, fast flowing stream, probably a metre deep. The methodology upstream had been to wade in (often well past the knees) with a measuring stick and a flow meter - so we were all soaked already.

No-one wanted to go in, and we were trying to think of alternative methods of measuring the depth. Being a brave, gung-ho kind of kid at the time - I was in the Air Cadets, so used to that kind of thing - I offered, if they had any rope to tie round me as a precaution, to have a go. There was no rope, so I didn't. Shame.

Fast-forward 5 years, and I have finally decided to go to university to study architecture, and have filled in my UCAS form. I ring my old school to get the reference. I am told that the person I need is the current head of my old house, who turns out to be a nice old boy who lives in my village. He remembers me, and says I can come round to his house one Saturday afternoon - he'll have all my old records and files - and we can write my reference together.

Off I trot, and over a cup of tea we pore over the recent history of my school career, where I see in unvarnished black and white the above story of the Geography Field Trip, but from the contemporaneous perspective of my teacher. According to him, I was so unpopular with my fellow pupils they would happily have seen me drown in the river. And he was surprised to hear I was considering a career in design, since he'd never seen any evidence in my geography work of even being able to colour in neatly.

I mean, I know I let him down by failing his subject, but if I'd gone to college straight after school, and someone had written the reference without talking to me, this is the sort of shit that might have coloured the application.

Fucking wanker. Mr Keith Grimwade. Perhaps he's dead.

[checkoutgirl]

I got a 'You'

What does that mean?

[Gregory Torso]

What does that mean?

I got a "You", babe.