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What are your terrible teacher memories?

181 replies

lovelyjubbly888 · 12/11/2023 00:50

A bit random - and in no way a teacher bashing thread! I was just inspired randomly by a thread about whether people make sure the sink is dry after use.
I had an absolute hag of a home economics teacher - who one day had a right go at me after I had washed up all the dishes. She lifted up the wash basin, and there were soap suds on the bottom of the basin. She got angry at me for it, and made stay behind and wash it until there was not a soap sud left. I was then late for next lesson. I'm still indignant about it, she was a fucking loose screw.
This was only 10 years ago!!!

OP posts:
salsmum · 25/02/2024 01:39

When we were in primary school there was a handsome guitar teacher who would do modern songs and myself and a friend had an enormous crush on him so we sat cross legged at his feet ( he'd sit on a table to play) if he caught us chatting he'd kick us in the face with his Chelsea boots Confused. We were 8.

IhateHPSDeaneCnt · 25/02/2024 02:03

I hate them all - from the predators to ones that turned - because they knew I was going to be more successful them. Nothing to do with their teaching by rote.

Heatherjayne1972 · 25/02/2024 06:32

our pe teacher would exempt you from the shower if you were on your period. She had a clip board for the register next to your name she’d put a red dot. Only one red dot a month was allowed You had to show your sanitary pad to ‘prove’ you weren’t lying at any other time

at the time we accepted it but now looking back - Wtaf

I can also remember a teacher smacking a boys bottom at primary school. tbf he was annoying but she lost her temper - she lost her job over that ( she was also having an affair with another teacher. All the kids knew)
I think the parents of the boy complained - probably unusual for 1983

FerretFarago · 25/02/2024 13:00

We got a new (junior school) headmaster and he was obsessed by children not finishing their school dinners, particularly us older ones who were not allowed to leave anything on our plates. You couldn’t get a pudding or even leave the hall until your plate was bare. (Strangely the younger children were allowed to leave food on their plates and the older children were on a rota to help clear the tables and we scraped their leavings into a huge tub to be taken away for pig food)

I really hated “Smash” mashed potato, which was served every day, so I ate everything else, put the potato in my mouth and ran to the toilets to spit it out. Two of my friends wondered why I was running to the toilets, and after I told them they started doing it too as if it was a game. One of my friends became bulimic and she died of it in her early 40s so I have to live with that.

AreThereSomewhereIslands · 25/02/2024 16:36

My junior school headmistress - Miss Beauchamp. Nasty, hypocritical woman who couldn't bear to be proved wrong and who never failed to find a way to blame the kids for her own shortcomings.

Every year, on the last day of summer term, she'd announce in assembly which teacher each class would have next year - "1G will become 2Ro, 1A will become 2Ru", etc. The teachers were all present at assembly too, and we learnt pretty quickly to keep our faces blank and our reactions to ourselves.

As we came towards the end of third year [what we now call Year 5], the two fourth year teachers were Mrs L and Miss T. Mrs L was younger, much more hands-on, got good academic results and led by example - she actually put on a tracksuit and did PE alongside her class, instead of lounging on a bench with a ciggie on the go and yelling instructions at them. Miss T was nearing retirement, was rather dowdy, her only outside interest appeared to be bird-watching, her previous pupils' academic performance had been unremarkable, but she was a close personal friend of the headmistress. Obviously, both third year classes hoped and prayed they'd get Mrs L...

The final day of summer term arrived. We sat through a long and dreary farewell assembly for the departing fourth-years, and finally Miss Beauchamp got on to the announcements. She told the current first-years who their second-year teachers would be; then the second-years who their third-year teachers would be; and then our turn came and we all tensed up waiting to hear our fate...

As soon as she said, "3A will become 4L - ", a muffled cheer went up from 3A...and simultaneously, but more loudly, a dismayed groan from 3H. Miss T was visibly crushed and humiliated by the reaction.

Assembly ended abruptly and the school was dismissed, teachers and all - "But the third year will all wait back!"

My goodness, the bollocking we got from Miss Beauchamp - she raved like Hitler at the Nuremberg Rally. How dare we so grossly disrespect Miss T with our appalling cheering and groaning?! How could we fail to appreciate her long service to the school, her vast experience, her comprehensive knowledge of British birds and her interest in astronomy? The girls of 3H were very lucky indeed to be getting Miss T for their final year, and yet we'd all displayed base ingratitude in reacting as we did in front of the whole school...

Fifty years later, I'm probably the same age Miss Beauchamp was then, and I find myself thinking: she absolutely knew how those two teachers were regarded by the girls. If she genuinely cared so deeply about Miss T's feelings, why didn't she instead come to each of our third-year classrooms beforehand and tell us privately, "3A, you're going into 4L next term; 3H, you're going into 4T". At least that way, Mrs L and Miss T would have been spared the embarrassment and thunderous atmosphere that pervaded the school for the remainder of the day.

...That was in 1974, when adults were always right and 10-year-old girls were always wrong. We endured a four-year catalogue of spiteful and discriminatory treatment from Miss Beauchamp, all of which I can now see was fuelled by her poor people management skills...but of course, 7-to-11-year-old girls weren't people. Only adults were people. Therefore, we were in the wrong. We were always in the wrong.

Petrine · 25/02/2024 16:42

When I was in the infant’s school aged 5 in 1960 I remember a dreadful female teacher getting a large plimsole out of the cubby holes at the front of the class. She then called this little boy to the front, told him to push his knee length socks down and she then whacked him really hard on each calf with said plimsole. I remember him sobbing afterwards trying not to break down.

It has stayed with me for more than 60 years.

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