As Real As Your Common Sense

| TX, USA | Extra Stupid, History, Students

(I am in chemistry class my junior year, because I didn’t do any of the work the previous year. I have a 100 average in the class and the class is full of not-so-smart people. As we’re watching a reenactment of a scientist discovering something important in the 1800s:)

Classmate: “Wait, is this real? Like, are those the actual people?”

The Beautiful Game Of Karma

| Wiltshire, England, UK | Sports, Students

(I, like my art teacher, am an Arsenal fan. We are recovering from a 5-1 loss to Bayern Munich.)

Classmate: “Hey, [My Name], do these four names mean anything to you?” *proceeds to name the four Bayern Munich scorers*

Me: “[Teacher], What does [Classmate] have to do to make you give him a detention?”

Teacher: “Just generally annoy me, I guess.”

Me: “[Classmate], care to repeat those four names?”

Classmate: “Erm… uhh…”

The Bad Condition Of The Rules

| USA | Bizarre/Silly, Non-Dialogue

My high school job is shelving books in a library. It is a great job, good pay, wonderful coworkers, and flexible hours. They also have a relaxed dress code, which is basically the same as the local school system’s. That’s actually how they described it to newcomers: anything they can wear to school, they can wear to work at the library.

At another branch, the students started regularly wearing torn jeans to work. The main office saw this and thought it looked trashy, so they made a rule: no more jeans. Every other kind of pants were fine, even sweatpants, but no jeans.

So of course, now I can wear a pair of torn khakis with holes in the knees, according to the rules, but a nice, new pair of intact jeans are not allowed. I don’t think banning jeans in itself is a stupid and unreasonable move, but if they had a problem with the condition of them, it makes more sense to ban any pants in bad condition.

The Teacher Forgot All Your Birthdays

| Lithuania | Bad Behavior, Children, Teachers

(I am in first grade. I am very excited to start learning but, honestly, I am not the brightest kid. On our first day, our teacher lines us all up by height and tells us each to say our name and then say our birthday. I am a bit was scared when it was my turn to say it.)

Teacher: “And when is your birthday?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

(This seemed to anger the teacher even further as a few previous kids didn’t know their birthdays either. She stood all the kids who didn’t know their birthdays in a separate line and started to shout at us.)

Teacher: “How can you all not even know your own birthday?! Now, I want you all to go home tonight and write your birthday on a sign and hang it around your neck and come to school with it, understand?! Not one of you dare come without it!”

(I was terrified since I couldn’t think of a way to make a sign myself and was almost in tears. Another girl was unfazed, though, and just told me she wasn’t going to make one, but I honestly believed what the teacher was shouting. When my mom picked me up I didn’t tell her anything since I was too embarrassed to tell her and only had one thing to ask.)

Me: “Mom, when is my birthday?”

Mom: “Oh, it’s [Date].”

(The next day no one showed up with any signs around their neck and the teacher seemed to have forgotten the incident all together.)

Stubborn As An Ox

| CT, USA | Exams/Tests, Language & Words, Teachers

(In elementary school, we are sorted into reading groups according to how well we can read. I am in the most advanced group with about four other students. One day, my group is given a worksheet on plurals of words. We’re supposed to work on it as a group.)

Classmate #1: *quietly* “[My Name], what’s this one?” *points to the word ‘ox’*

Me: “Oxen.”

(I’d played one of the Oregon Trail games before, so I’d run into the word already. The rest of the group trusts my answer, so everyone writes down ‘oxen.’ We finish the worksheet, and a day or two later it gets handed back. The only answer everyone got wrong was oxen.)

Me: “[Teacher]!” *the teacher walks over to my group* “Why’d you mark this wrong?”

Teacher: “Because it’s wrong. The plural of ox is ox.”

Me: *ten-year-old me is not happy with being told she’s wrong* “No, it’s oxen. It says so in Oregon Trail.”

Teacher: “Well, your game is wrong. The plural of ox is ox.”

Me: *pointing at the bookshelf where a dictionary is kept* “Nuh-uh! It’s oxen! You can check!”

(The teacher did check and changed our grades on the worksheet, but I was never offered an apology and there was a bit of tension between us for the rest of the year.)