(For some reason, a bunch of seniors have started coming into my history class during their lunch period to “study”. Usually they’re not too bad, but they can be disruptive by joking around.)
Senior (walking in): Hey, [Teacher]!
Teacher (waving at her with both arms like he’s shooing a swarm of bugs): No, no, no. Not today. We’re having a huge big test today. So sit down and shut up, or get out.
Student: Aw, what’s wrong?
Teacher: Nothing, I just feel like being mean today! OUT!
I walk past my favorite teachers classroom on the way to another class. He is a math teacher. I hear him sing to the tune of Three Blind Mice
Teacher: You’re going to fail my test, you’re all a bunch of losers, you’ll never amount to anything
I burst out laughing as this is his sense of humor. He was an amazing teacher and I worked harder in school just to make him proud.
(This was during after-school maths classes – math in the US – when we could bring along a parent if they wished to, due to an experiment on the progress of adult education at various stages of their life. My friend and I both brought our mothers with us. This happens during the third after-school lesson. My mother is a little clingy.)
Mum: I thought you’d like some chocolate raisins, [Teacher’s First Name].
Teacher: (sternly) Oh. Really? Well, it’s Mr [Teacher’s Name]. And no, I would not, I’m a busy man. Just…leave them on the desk for later.
(My mother sits down and he takes his seat.)
Teacher: Right class, I’ve been reviewing your homework and its…really boring. Too much maths. I hate maths.
Mum: (putting her hand up) But you’re a maths teacher.
Teacher: (patronizingly) So imagine how bored I get? (normal tone of voice) You know what’s not boring? Hmm? Killer robots. Now, next lesson I’d like you all to bring in a video (this was back in 2003) about robots. Or something with guns. Or gladiators.
Me: Robots? Isn’t that a bit…
Friend’s Mum: Genius. Thank you Mr [Teacher’s Name].
Teacher: Thank you [Friend’s Mum]. I’ve always liked you. (whilst looking at my mum, still conversing with my friend’s mother) You’re my favourite.
(He pushed my mother’s box of chocolate raisins onto the ground. My mother told me afterwards that she had been very hurt and shocked by that. She rarely leaves the house, so this was very important for her. We both refused to attend the next lesson. A few days later the teacher in question went to an educational psychiatrist for reoccurring aliments which caused pressure on the brain.)