The Teacher Blues

If you’ve ever had a teacher that you hated, and you knew they hated you, then you can probably relate to this. I suppose maybe you can even say, “Wow, this stranger online relates to me. I feel like we’re the same person.” Spoiler alert: I’m probably way more fucked up than you think, and maybe that’s a good thing for someone reading about another person’s life.

A few weeks ago, I was in class. Biology, if that changes anything. We had globes in front of us, and there was about four long tables in two rows. I’m in the back of the class next to Izzy (one of my only friends in this class), a globe between us with papers scattered all over the table. We have so many handouts for a class about Earth… it’s crazy.

I like sitting in the back, and talking to Izzy is one of my favorite things about the class since it’s boring and the teacher has a thick foreign accent. Why would you teach a class if the students can’t understand half of what you say? All the old hag does is read off the powerpoint that’s right in front of us while we fill in the blanks on the handouts she’s given. Easy? Yes. Interesting to learn about for 75 minutes straight? No.

Now, the thing is… everyone in that class talks. Hell, they even talk and laugh without getting shit on by the damn teacher. But do I get that luxury? No.

So, giving you an example: I turn my head to look at Izzy and automatically get yelled at by this bitch of a teacher. What the hell is this lady’s problem? She says three words that make me stare at her in disbelief: “Lily and Izzy, move up here.”

Move up here? You’ve got to be kidding me! What are we? Five? I wasn’t talking, and neither was Izzy, but here we are getting humiliated in front of fifteen or so other people. Does she not notice the others talking? Or is she just out to get me? I guess you could say that this was the beginning of a war between Mrs. Gallinger and I.

I even told her that her class was shit and that moving me to the front of the class wasn’t going to change how much I participated or how I was doing. I had an A in the class at the time (and I can assure you that her opinions of me changed that to a B. Bitch!)

Let’s just say that she didn’t like my honesty very much. You could practically see how pissed she was, but I found it amusing. I swear if Izzy wasn’t in the room, I wouldn’t be alive right now.