Teachers
Over the years, a few of my teachers have become notorious in my memory for their scariness or outright inability to teach. It's quite funny, actually, the way you just build up a list of teachers/classes and grow to hate them so much.
--Ms. Palmeri, 5th grade. With or without her, that would've been a horrible year because I'd just moved. But she didn't know how to teach, especially when it came to math, and so I basically failed that year. It's made me terrified of numbers. And it hindered me socially forever. Or at least until I move again.
--Ms. Inumerable, 5th grade science. She was just mean and she yelled. I was quiet and shy and small.
--Mr. Sosa, 7th grade art. He hated me because I can't draw. He was especially tough on me and made me sit at the table with all the scary, annoying people.
--Ms. Popa, 8th grade PE. I hate her. To this day, the memory makes me equally pissed off, exhausted, and scared. She made us run a timed mile every day, she angered easily, and she was under the impression that she was incredibly smart. Plus, she dressed awfully. Even I, one of the fashion-challenged of this world, can tell you that. She looked like a giant skittle every day.
--Ms. Lyons/Ms. Brickley, 9th grade world geography/English. The Lyon hated me. At first, I thought it was my imagination, that I was being bitter because they made life so miserable. But eventually, even my friends pointed out that she wasn't fond of me. She was creepy. I swear, I waited every day for her eyes to pop out. She opened them up so wide, like a bug's, and she would stare. She also had a thing for stating the obvious. The Brickhead was okay. But they taught in the same classroom, a joke of a class, and caused all 100-something students of theirs to fail the district final. I'm not joking, or exaggerating.
--Ms. Ochoa, 9th grade Spanish Speakers 3-4. THE worst teacher I'd ever had. She was completely disorganized and relied on her good students (aka me) to figure out what everyone else was supposed to be doing. Anyone having trouble with the work or in need of materials (glue in particular; I spent about three times what I usually spend on glue that year) was sent to me. She took away my extra credit to give to all those who were failing (in other words, the rest of the class) because she didn't want to look bad. She changed her mind constantly and expected us to follow. And she couldn't control her class if her life depended on it.
--And now there's Mr. Raley, 10th grade chemistry. I never liked him, and I don't think he liked me. He was intimidating and never answered my questions directly and without sarcasm. He's also a bit of an asshole. He gave my friend an 89.7% as a final grade. She's so close to an A! But he won't bump her up 0.3%. The problem is the way he did it. He was extremely rude to her, telling my friend how she obviously didn't care enough about her grade to get to class on time (she was five minutes late on the last day of school, when most people ditch anyway and attendance isn't taken). He insulted her knowledge of chemistry. She nearly ended up in tears.
I could understand if he'd already cut her some slack, or if he'd given her other opportunities to raise her grade. But he never did; his was pure, backbreaking work without sympathy.
And so that cements the grudge I will be holding against him and chemistry for a very long time. Thankfully, I never have to talk to him again.
--Ms. Palmeri, 5th grade. With or without her, that would've been a horrible year because I'd just moved. But she didn't know how to teach, especially when it came to math, and so I basically failed that year. It's made me terrified of numbers. And it hindered me socially forever. Or at least until I move again.
--Ms. Inumerable, 5th grade science. She was just mean and she yelled. I was quiet and shy and small.
--Mr. Sosa, 7th grade art. He hated me because I can't draw. He was especially tough on me and made me sit at the table with all the scary, annoying people.
--Ms. Popa, 8th grade PE. I hate her. To this day, the memory makes me equally pissed off, exhausted, and scared. She made us run a timed mile every day, she angered easily, and she was under the impression that she was incredibly smart. Plus, she dressed awfully. Even I, one of the fashion-challenged of this world, can tell you that. She looked like a giant skittle every day.
--Ms. Lyons/Ms. Brickley, 9th grade world geography/English. The Lyon hated me. At first, I thought it was my imagination, that I was being bitter because they made life so miserable. But eventually, even my friends pointed out that she wasn't fond of me. She was creepy. I swear, I waited every day for her eyes to pop out. She opened them up so wide, like a bug's, and she would stare. She also had a thing for stating the obvious. The Brickhead was okay. But they taught in the same classroom, a joke of a class, and caused all 100-something students of theirs to fail the district final. I'm not joking, or exaggerating.
--Ms. Ochoa, 9th grade Spanish Speakers 3-4. THE worst teacher I'd ever had. She was completely disorganized and relied on her good students (aka me) to figure out what everyone else was supposed to be doing. Anyone having trouble with the work or in need of materials (glue in particular; I spent about three times what I usually spend on glue that year) was sent to me. She took away my extra credit to give to all those who were failing (in other words, the rest of the class) because she didn't want to look bad. She changed her mind constantly and expected us to follow. And she couldn't control her class if her life depended on it.
--And now there's Mr. Raley, 10th grade chemistry. I never liked him, and I don't think he liked me. He was intimidating and never answered my questions directly and without sarcasm. He's also a bit of an asshole. He gave my friend an 89.7% as a final grade. She's so close to an A! But he won't bump her up 0.3%. The problem is the way he did it. He was extremely rude to her, telling my friend how she obviously didn't care enough about her grade to get to class on time (she was five minutes late on the last day of school, when most people ditch anyway and attendance isn't taken). He insulted her knowledge of chemistry. She nearly ended up in tears.
I could understand if he'd already cut her some slack, or if he'd given her other opportunities to raise her grade. But he never did; his was pure, backbreaking work without sympathy.
And so that cements the grudge I will be holding against him and chemistry for a very long time. Thankfully, I never have to talk to him again.