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I'm ripping this from B3ta.com's question of the week, but what the hell.
I dont know why it is, but certainly over the course of the last seven years I've had more than my fair share of wierd teachers. Maybe its just because my grammar school is somewhat magnetic to the addled and strange.
In (very) rough, but long, chronological order.
Nobby Clark - Fat bastard of a science teacher who for the first month, literally, at my grammar school in the first year made us endlessly copy out the lab safety rules. Either he didnt want to teach, or he was ****. Didnt see much of him after the first half term for some reason, popular rumour has it he went psycho and smacked a student with a wooden stool.
Mr Bowden - Eccentric but amazingly cool and collected english teacher, with a penchant for amazingly eclectic bow ties. Liquourice Allsorts, furry dice and classic motorcycles have all made an appearance on his ties at some point or another. Is probably the teacher that garners the most respect in the school since hes retired twice and come back twice. Now acts as the grounds manager with a bit of light teaching on the side. Even when he gets up in assembly to give us all a really basic message like "Keep off the fields cos we've had a ****load of rain" (paraphrased, obviously), he gets a thunderous round of applause as he walks both from and to the microphone.
Mr Hoffman - Crazy maths teacher. HUGE mole on his right temple. Renowned for a vocal quirk of his - "Baaahea!" followed by one of several catchphrases - "You stupid boy!" "Wheres my homewoooooork!?" "They're going to have to put me away for what I'm going to do to you, Mr Miller!" Stupid sod buggered off after year eight.
Mr Thomas - Crazy psycho welsh science teacher. Used to love ripping the **** out of guys and making them do the same bit of work three times over for really inane reasons, like he didnt like the colour of the ink they used or some such. Catchphrases include "Sorry?! You're not sorry! Sorry is for BAAAAAABEEES!" and "ITS A RHETORICAL KWESTEE-ON, LADDIE!"
Mr Healy - Big fat scottish latin teacher. Always, without fail, used to roll down the hill to the pub on the corner at lunch and break. Taught for the majority of the time absolutely plastered drunk. Got out of a whole years work in year eight by, as a class, telling him he'd taken our books in and not given them back to us.
Mr Sneary - Latin replacement for when the head decided Healy was too sozzled to teach us. Always wore motorbike leather trousers and boots in lessons, and fanatical about sailing ( had a Cap'n Birdseye white beard, too!) to the point of us asking obscure sailing questions and missing half a lesson as he explained. Catchphrase: "...and all that jazz."
Mr Drane - The most cynical bastard to walk under the sun, and as you might expect, thats practically a professional opinion.Always spoke in a really slow deep voice, taking the piss out of us constantly. Loved insulting other teachers like Mr Thomas.
Mr Strang - Gym teacher who has a habit of wearing tight shorts, and placing one foot up on a chair while talking to us, while constantly stroking his hairy leg. *shudders*.
Mr Hayman - Gym teacher. Pink tight shorts. Constantly yelling at us to get naked and into the showers. Draw your own conclusions.
Mr Allen - Business studies. Makes lecherous comments about most of the younger female teachers and some of the older ones too. Is obsessed with one of my former science teachers. Calls random students' mothers' milfs. Top bloke.
Mr Hardy - Scots english teacher. This guy must be stoned constantly as his eyes are constantly bloodshot and talks really goddamn slowly about all kinds of ****e. Frequently tries to bum fags off the students.
Miss Mitchell - Cool hot young physics teacher. Very flirty with students of year eleven and above. When telling us how to make a compass out of a magnet and a needle, she said "Stroke gently in small circles......A life lesson for you there, boys." Top class.
Tell us about your mad teachers here!
"It fits like clothes made out of wasps!"
Very good, Phobos, some excellent character sketches there. Several remind me of the more eccentric teachers I encountered myself. I might get back to you on that...
Ryan Dancey, Vice President of Wizards of the Coast, believed that TSR failed because of "...a near total inability to listen to its customers, hear what they were saying, and make changes to make those customers happy." Are you listening, Games Workshop ?
Intresting teachers there Inkie, must have to bear with me here it has been a while since I was at school. But from what I can remember..
Mr Noland - 1st year history teacher, pissed as a newt each and every lesson. He kept a bottle of whisky in his desk's top draw, out of which he would have 'crafty' swigs when we were in lesson. Never learnt much from him.
Mr Manchester - French teach. About our seventh, this one was more a college lecturer. Kinda encentric with seating arrangements, forced us into a horseshoe shape - once in middle of lesson. When for half term once, we came back he never. Was told it was a mental breakdown - that's our year who did that.
Miss... french name - So I can't remember her name but she was an odd one. French with knowing a little English - was taught in our class that the middle finger is a greeting for 'hello' here in England, did it everytime.
Mrs Wade - A class teacher, piss her off and regret it. Random outbursts of laughter as she read through other years works could keep us entertained.
Mrs French - Who taught french, no joke. Odd spindly looking creature who as far as I can remember never taught us a single thing. Once told us of getting a bee stuck in her knickers as he pulled them off the line and slapped them on.
That's all I can remember atm.
Sweet jesus I cant believe I forgot one.
Mrs Cushing - Art teacher who was also our form tutor from year nine to eleven. Im actually amazed she didnt leave the school we ripped it out of her so badly for being incompetent.
We did virtually everything you can think of. Whispering things during registration. Coughing constantly so she couldnt say anything. Asking her really inane questions (during what passed for sex ed, asking "Hey miss, whats anal sex?" cue bright red shy ex catholic schoolgirl teacher). Any time she tried to be forceful we'd laugh at her and ask her to tell us what she was really going to do.
And of course, in year eleven we were in the art room for a form base. I think the favourite lunchtime registration was when she came in to find pritt-stick icicles hanging from the cieling, a giant spray-painted phallus on her desk and liberal amounts of powder paint scattered randomly around the room.
"It fits like clothes made out of wasps!"
Phobos, you're weirding me out a little bit. One of the first persons that came to my mind was my third grade teacher, Mrs. Strang. Let's hope for the sake of irrational coincidence that these two are not related.
My junior year English teacher, Ms. Chrisman, was a bit of a strange bird. When discussing "The Scarlet Letter" and how the preacher would engage in self-flagellation as punishment for his affair with Hester, she would stand on a chair with a riding crop and demonstrate whipping her shoulders and upper back. Now had she been a particularly young woman, or attractive woman, perhaps we would have found this peculiarly delightful. As it was, not so much.
At university, I had this disgusting adjunt teacher who victimized us with his cruel nepotism. He had the job only because his mother was a professor. Every day he wore khaki pants and anundershirt visible beneath his white, short-sleeve dress shirt. And every day he soaked the armpits of both shirts through like pig on the Fourth of July. Also, he always brought a Dr. Pepper to wash down the powdered donuts he gobbled down during class. He would write on the chalkboard, wipe the chalkboard with his hand, then wipe his hand under his sweaty pits, before swigging from the soda can and adding donut powder to the chalky mess. It was vomitous, really.
And my highschool Latin teacher was a nutcase. He enjoyed singing the song that went, "Rollin' rollin' rollin', keep them doggies rollin', rawhide!" He'd sing the whole song at an assembly. If we were lucky, he'd show us how he could hold a pencil with both hands just above his knees and jump through them. Sadly, he took to having more and more frequent outbursts, blasting students for incomplete work or trite comments.
All this is making me think that I really need to develop a more distinctive persona as a teacher myself. I need a nice, eccentric quirk. Hmm.....
Heh. I was only at Heritage for two years and I accumulated an array of wierd teachers.
Mrs. Bumpass. She was the nicest old lady you'll ever meet. However, she couldn't teach math worth a flip. One day she gave the same "Algebra II" test to all six classes that day. Including Algebra I, Algebra II, Geometry, Pre-Calc, and Trig. NO ONE ALL DAY passed the test. Not "no one made a hundred". Not "no one made an A". NO ONE PASSED.
Mr...Can't remember his name. Big bald spot, glasses, kinda skinny. Anyway, my first year was also his first year. He taught Chemistry. He is a geologist by trade and knew absolutely nothing about Chemistry. It was laughable. One day he actually brought a diagram of water to class and proceeded to tell the class that the little ones were oxygens and the big one was hydrogen. Because the formula was "Hydrogen, Two Oxygen". This was the CHEMISTRY teacher. His spectrum slide was entertaining, though. He brought it out occasionally to illustrate some point or another. When he stood in front of the projector to point at stuff, the rainbow projected on his bald spot.
Mr Vielmas. Absolutely certifiable, but an excellent Spanish teacher. He once took us out to the Mexican area of Gainesville on a field trip. We ate lunch, ordering in Spanish, and then shopped around a little while communicating with the unilingual locals. He failed to tell the headmaster we were going on a field trip and we returned to a rather interested group of parents. Man, he was truly nuts. He really was. Even I could never tell what he would say next and I am a Grand Master of unpredictability.
Mr. White. He taught the best Ancient History I ever went to. 'Course, he was supposed to be teaching American history but it was all good. He had all sorts of interesting stories that made us want to know more about the era. Unfortunately, he was fired after one semester. No one knew why until I did some Internet searches. Turns out, everything he taught us the whole time was completely made up.
His teaching assistant took over for him. The guy was maybe eighteen. But man, he was incredibly good at teaching. He made the class almost as fun as Mr. White had, actually taught real stuff (I checked it all), and came up with all sorts of cool stuff. One time he ended the class with a drawing of Washington crossing the Delaware. There was one squiggly line, a few little houses, some stick figures, and a few circled notes. Through that and about ten minutes of talking, he imparted all the information that was in five pages of textbook. He ROCKED OUT LOUD.
Then there was Mrs. Madsen. Pure freakin' evil. I had her for Speech my first year and she instantly hated me. I really don't know why, teachers usually love me. Anyway, she tormented me all year. My second year, I had her for Yearbook. Now, Mrs. Madsen is a passable Speech teacher but she knows ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about computers. And, by awesome coincidence, nobody else in the class did either. So, all year, I was the only one who could fix the computers when she killed them. One time I came into class to see everyone else crowded around the computers. All the screens were black and all the lights were off. Mrs. Madsen was sitting at one of them, frantically trying to make it work. The problem? Everything was unplugged. That pretty much sums up my vengeance-riffic year of Yearbook.
Mrs...blast, can't remember. She was our Drama teacher second year. She was freakin' awesome, and just about as nuts as Vielmas. 'Nuff said.
The conclusion? Heritage Academy is like a magnet for wierdoes but half of them rock hard.
Quote for probably forever 'cause it rocks:
"Slaughter them, men, and bring me their hats."
Hey, my first post in Enhanced. I thought this place would at least relate to Warhammer but I guess not.
This guy is bizarre.
Mr. Mayday--This guy is weird like no other. Whereas all you got psycho creepy teachers, this guy is totally neutral. Not Ben Stein per se (thats Mr. Rogina), but hes not good, or bad. He's my English teacher, and we watch movies all the time, but they are boring as heck. Its cool not to work, but we could have a mentally challenging video. And we havent written anything more than a paragraph for a writing assignment. Its like HE doesn't want to work at all, but isn't fun. I'm on the other side of the room across from his desk, where he sits all day, so when he comes over, I stare at him cuz its like hes a stanger. I dont think he knows who I am, which is bad because conferences are tomorrow. And the first few days are usually introduction days, but we know nothing of him. We asked him about his favorite book. He said he'd get back to us (which he didn't). He wouldnt say if he would come to our playoff football (American) game against our greatest rival (stupid Griffins, they won). He called a girl whose last name is Wadsworth to get something, and he tagged on Longsfellow (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was a famous American poet). Thats his best attempt at humor.
When we read from the textbook, he has a previously recorded tape OF HIMSELF reading. Same for written tests. His tapes read the questions.
He's like a black hole of interesting. He' not even cool-boring.
Oh well, I'm getting an A if nothing else.
"I'd rather fight 100 Hammerheads than 20 Battlesuits" -Vinnie, an Ultramarine.
*Remember to use the Reputation ability! Click the yellow star beneath a name on the left side!*
Sure, I'm game.
Mr. Whiting - Social Studies teacher. He was one of the crankiest, most insane teachers I've ever had. His biggest pet peeve was proper grammar - He would ask you how you were doing, and if you replied "Good", he would always correct you and state that you were in fact doing "Well." Another favourite of his was "Could care less" versus "Could not care less." In fact, he's the reason I'm so anal about people having correct grammar when they type.
Mr. Stevenson - By far one of the coolest teachers I've ever had. He's the reason I went into computers. Out of my three Electronics courses, he taught two before he retired. He was a big old man, sort of reminded you of a real life Santa Clause. The funny part was his language - he spent 8 years in the army, and another 10 on the seas. He had the largest vocabulary of nasty words than anyone I've ever met - and he used them every single day. Ofcourse, we could never curse. There was only one exception - if we ever shocked ourselves with more than 100 volts, we had 15 seconds to say whatever we wanted.
Mr. George - I can't remember his last name, as nobody really cared. He replaced Mr. Stevenson as our Electronics teacher, but he didn't know the first thing about wiring, electricity, or computers. The school only hired him to be the new football coach, and stuck him in the only spot they had avaliable. So for that entire school year, my best friend and I literally taught the class, since we knew the most.
Mrs. Karen - Middle School Creative Writing teacher. Such a hypocrite. She would tell you to go write something, and give you no criteria for the project. You come back with literary gold, and you'd be lucky to pull a "C" out of it. Why? Because you didn't follow her outline.
What freakin' outline, you stupid b.... AHEM. Anyways. Basically, it boiled down to a creative writing class that you had to be creative in the way she wanted you to. Ridiculous.
Mr Lopez- master of the wandering topic, had him for History and later Computing (the regular teacher was sick) anyway i rapidly became unable to tell which lesson was which.
He told many a mad story over the 2 years he was my teacher.
I still hate Twiglets!
Kip: Exentric maths teacher, tends to mention everyone by both their first and last names, blows at the blackboard after wiping it, to make it dry faster. Also, if someone isn't focusing and he notices, he'll stand in the middle of the classroom repeating himself like a robot until he has everyone's attention again.
Summer: Ironman champion, swims in the fjord(ocean) in the middle of autumn, philosophy teacher, and probably the most energetic person I've ever met. She will sit in the middle of class, shining with happiness becasue she is giving us another assignement. And she expects us to be equally exited. Quote: "Oh this is going to be so much fun..:"
Alistair: Studied vultures at some point in his youth. He tought Environmental Systems, and spent half our time showing us pictures and telling tales from his vulture-watching days. Oh, also tends to give poeple warnings when he thinks they might have been doing something wrong.
I claim the title of "mistress of the vindictive"
=]Front in favour of Moderation of the Harshest kind[=