Hello again my fellow teenagers…
Have you ever felt so angry that you wished death upon someone? That you wanted to punch them? That you spent hours swearing about it? That you go on about it days later? Yes? Okay, then you know what I’m going on about.
Sometimes, the smallest of things can make us so angry, we’ll cry. Or scream, or shout.
I have a temper, and I’ve sworn at people quite often, especially the last few years, but I’ve been able to control myself to not punch someone. Some people can’t do that, and THAT IS OKAY. It is completely normal. Various sciences show that, and so do animals. But, my point about this post isn’t that.
I have a teacher, and he’s an absolute prick. One of those teachers that think they’re above you and they should have us practically bowing down out of respect when you see them. Yeah, one of those. Well, everyone at school hates him. “He’s a nice person outside of school, but once he’s inside the school, it’s like he turns into a new person.” is what I’ve been told by a few teachers that know him and live close to him.
My answer was, “He could be the nicest person on Earth, but he’s a rubbish teacher. He’s mean, he doesn’t know how to explain, correct exams or control the class. He thinks he can throw his weight around, and it’s not like that. He doesn’t respect the students, so we won’t respect him. I’ll be nice to him, but I will not respect him. Unless he starts respecting my class-mates.”
This teacher I’m talking about has made me, plus two other girls in my class, cry. One of the girls because she didn’t know how to do somemthing, and he told her she was a dumb bimbo. She’s not blonde, for one, and two: I’m a very clever person, I admit that, but even I don’t understand things sometimes, so he shouldn’t have expected her to.
The other girl… she had every single damn answer in the exam correct and he failed her because of two reasons(according to him):
1. She had bad handwriting and he couldn’t understand it, and,
2. The thing she wrote before that was wrong, so the whole thing was wrong.
The really infuriating part of this was that when the girls started crying out of pure frustration, he asks what’s wrong.
They explain what’s wrong to him, and he tells them to stop acting like children and grow up and deal with it.
Now on to my story with this teacher.
There’s a rule at my school that says you’re not allowed to eat in a lesson, unless you have the teacher’s permission. When the bell rings to signal for break, you’re no longer in a lesson and you can eat if you want to, in or out of a classroom. We usually start eating about half a minute before the bell rings, and the teachers don’t mind.
I happened to be the last one left in the classroom, along with Al, after the bell rang, and he suddenly said,
“You’re not allowed to eat in class.” really bluntly. I raised my eyebrows.
“I’m not allowed to eat in a LESSON. The classroom doesn’t matter. What would we do if it were raining right now?”
“I say you’re not allowed to eat in the classroom.” he stated just as bluntly as before.
“Look, school rules say that once the bell has rung, you can eat wherever you want. If you make a mess, it’s your responsability to clean it up, but it’s allowed, and this isn’t your classroom, it’s my class and mentor’s classroom.” and I took a massive bite of my sandwich. I usually wouldn’t have replied in that manner, but I was already pissed off with him, because he’d had a go at my best friend for no utter reason. Something about not sitting straight. About 90% of us were either slouching or with our feet on the chair next to us, or leaning against the wall if we were lucky enough to have a wall next to us. I had one of my feet on my best friend’s chair, and the other was on my chair, with my back against the wall and my chin on my knee. Al was sitting in a better position than I was, but the teacher singled him out.
Anyway, I was already annoyed because of that. No one talks to my best friends that way, even if it’s a teacher.
Back to the story.
The look on his face made me think that he really hated me in that moment.
Al was trying his hardest to not laugh, and I calmly walked past the teacher, my arm linked through Al’s.
“Bye, bye. See you tomorrow. Bon appetit!” I said over my shoulder. He slammed the door closed and locked it pointedly.
The rest of the day went smoothly, until I told my dad about it when he picked me up. This is the part where I got really angry.
He told me that I should’ve stayed out of it, yadda, yadda, yadda. I said I wouldn’t not protect my friend, and I can’t help it if I’m angry. His reply was that Al wouldn’t defend me and he was a bad friend and if I got in trouble again, of any kind, he would send me to a different school and make sure I never spoke to Al again. I exploded at him. I was crying and shouting at him that Al had been there for me when I needed him, and why would he take my best friend away from me, etc. etc. etc.
Basically, it was a whole drama. But adults always say that we need to calm down, and we mustn’t bring our emotions into things, and they don’t get our frustration sometimes.
We don’t WANT to calm down, we want to be heard.
We HAVE to bring our emotions into it sometimes.
Why don’t they get it? Because they are our parents, our teachers, our family, and they think that they know more because they are older. Not always. We have just as much experience as they do, but we’re younger, so our words aren’t taken into consideration as much. It makes us feel very helpless when we’re talking and the adult then interrupts. We don’t get to finish what we’re saying, and they won’t listen to us.
My advice to the people that feel that way:
1. If someone interrupts, tell them to shut up.
2. Listen to some good music, that reflects the way you feel, and sing along.
3. Swear like you’ve just stubbed your toe on the table leg. If someone who disapproves of swearing is around, do it in your head…
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