Junior High


So this happens on a Friday in my 7th grade year. It’s the last period of the day and it’s science. We’ve been studying independent and dependent variables one of the easiest concepts in the world. Despite that we still get a five page front and back packet of problems. We are suppose to pick up the packet on the way out of class but I forgot to and didn’t find out until I got home. Now I’m a teachers pet and I’ve never had a late work.EVER. So I was freaked out about it all weekend. Monday rolls around and I walk into class. The teacher tells anyone who forgot the homework to grab a packet. I do and wait for her to cast judgement on me. However she only checks the first 2 pages and never checks to make sure anyone actually did it. We didn’t even get completion points. That women single-handedly ruined my weekend and my entire Monday.

Junior High


It’s my 7th grade year and I’m in science class. We are learning about genetics and genetics has always fascinated me. My teacher is a good person but a terrible teacher and doesn’t really teach but reads off slide shows. This is how a conversation between me and my teacher went.

Me: Mrs.[Teacher], I can’t quite remember the question but I think it was about DNA.

Teacher: Looks at slide show hoping the answer is there.

  ( I know the answer isn’t there because if it was I wouldn’t have asked the question.)

Teacher: I don’t know, but we could look it up later.

 (I already knew the answer to the question. I just wanted to see how much she knew. Cruel right?)

Me: Suggest possible answer.

Teacher: I don’t know for sure. But your probably right.

This happened a lot when I was in her class. I am very great-full to be out of her class now and learning new things. She still teaches and I’m in the class right across from hers. I wonder what’s going to happen to the next generation of 7th grade science students.

Senior High School

Sandefjord, Vestfold, Norway

(I am sitting in class lazing of and reading notalwaysright when I am surprised by a voice appearing suddenly behind me.)

Teacher: You do realize the irony of this website you are on, right?


Savannah, GA

(I attend a university in New York, but my academic honor society has gone done to Georgia for a conference.  Our society has the rather unfortunate initials of ‘STD’.  While in Savannah, we are severely warned not to touch the Spanish moss because of the small insects, called chiggers, that live in it.  It is our last day in Savannah.)

President: “STD: Went down to Savannah to get crabs and came back with chiggers!”

High School


(I’m in my junior year of high school. Lately, two seniors have decided to turn me into a test subject for the senior girl’s “makeovers”. I go along with it at first to be polite, but the two have taken it to levels I am very uncomfortable with. They come up to me one day in the school library to schedule yet another unwanted “appointment”, and by this point I’ve had enough of them.)

Senior Girl: “Hey, [My Name]! We’re taking you to [ludicrously overpriced clothing store that’s an hour’s drive away] tonight!”

Senior Boy: “We need to get you some nice new fashionable clothes! T-shirts and jeans are no good on you!”

Senior Girl: “Then we’re gonna get you new makeup and get your hair done and—”

Me: “No.”

(I stand up from where I’m sitting, to confront them better. I keep my voice down to be less disruptive to those around me.)

Me: “I can’t stand this anymore. You two have tried to dictate me for the last time.”

(The two of them are speechless. I continue.)

Me: “You belittle and insult people I care about. You keep making me put on makeup that takes forever to wash off. You tell me what to wear, what shows to watch, what music to listen to…”

Senior Boy: “No, we don’t!”

Me: “Yes, you do. I’m tired of it. You know what? I hate makeup. I love wearing T-shirts, jeans, and sweatpants. I love rock music, anime, and video games. I’m sick of you telling me how to live my life. You forced me to do all these things I hate, and you tried to make me feel bad if I refused. Well, not anymore. I don’t want you guilting me about anything at this point. I’m a person, not your guinea pig. Stop guilting me into doing things I hate, and leave me alone from now on!”

(Both seniors are quiet, then…)

Senior Girl: *loudly* “I’m going to the principal, because you threatened me!”

(Thankfully, the principal didn’t believe them. Since then, I’ve graduated high school, and am becoming a writer. Neither of them have contacted me since.)

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