5th Grade Teacher's Last Straw

To be fair to the teachers I experienced during my early years, most wanted to educate me. Their intentions were honorable. Only one wanted to punish me first; the educating part was not even on her radar.

At the time, I was sure I did not deserve the treatment I received. Sixty plus years later, I still feel that way. Don't get me wrong, I was a troublemaker sometimes, and on occasion ended up at odds with local school disciplinarians. However, I rarely felt I was being unfairly treated, except for that year I endured in fifth grade.

Did I deserve what I got? You'd have to dig up her grave, reanimate her, and ask her. She was hard nosed, intractable and vindictive according to my mom. Me, well I just hated her.  

She is the first person I ever hated to my core. Did I wish her ill will. You're damn right I did. Did I wish she was dead. Oh yeah. She became the first adult I actively tried to make miserable. I often irritated my parents, but never with real malevolence. Pushing their buttons was part of the fun of being a kid. If they were pissed at me that meant they were taking a break from being pissed at each other. Our time in Florida was very hard on all of us.

For the life of me, I cannot remember that teacher's name or remember her face. I do remember having bad dreams about our relationship though.

Before the first week of school was over, she told me she was going to come for me in any way she could. Who says that to a ten year child, especially a teacher? As I sit here and try to remember what went down that year in school, I realize I must have personified all the evil little assholes she had to put up with for however long she had been a teacher. She retired at the end of the year. Maybe I was her last straw.

I wasn't sure why she hated me so much so soon into the school year. Years later when talking about her with my Dad over late night shots, he said maybe it was because that first week when I told her to go to Hell. Ahh,yes I remembered then. That was my first trip to the principal's office that year. In the beginning, my parents backed the teacher.

In retrospect, I guess she had a reason to hate me. I tried in the beginning to win her over. I was a pretty charming little boy. Old ladies usually loved me. I knew how to be polite, inquisitive and I had a great grin. I also had an attitude that came to the surface quickly. 

She was having none of  my promises to behave, to capitulate, to knuckle under. Must have been about October when I gave up and said to myself, "Bring it Teach". She held onto her grudge all year. At the end of the year, even though my grades were A's and B's, as a final "fuck you", she tried to fail me and keep me back, She claimed I was not mature enough for sixth grade. 

By this time, my parents had my back. They had been through many parent-teacher and later, principal conversations that finally turned into shouting matches where the teacher was the one who lost control. I never attended those meetings, but I sure got an ear full when Mom and Dad came home. My dad refused to go to any more meetings after Christmas. And the principal actually pleaded with me to get along with her. I told her I was trying but the teacher would have none of it. My mom, who could be very intimidating when riled, straightened the teacher out and I moved on to sixth grade.

All the back story I just laid out was unintended as I only wanted to reminisce about what the image to the right meant to me.

I have set the table and filled you in about the worst grade school year of my life. That was the year I became the GOAT of punishment writing. I was often required to stay after school to write on the blackboard. I was sent home with homework that included returning the next day with hundreds of sentences written on notebook paper. I remember well. I could cram a lot more sentences on a certain kind of notebook paper my dad had in his desk at home. The lines were closer together. I learned to become a punishment sentence machine. Other kids in the class were given similar punishments, but not a one had to endure the numbers of sentences I did. 

It was never for the same reason. Teacher mixed it up. Her favorites were "I will not talk back anymore", "I will not speak out of turn anymore", "I will not get out of my chair without permission", I will not snicker in class"; you get the drift. And while most of my classmates often received warnings,, by the time Thanksgiving rolled around, I received no warnings.

I can laugh about it now. I certainly did not then. I was treated unfairly. In an odd way though, I am grateful for the experience. It was my first lesson in the unfairness of Life. And I learned that no matter what I thought day to day about my parents, I knew they would always have my back ..... eventually.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................

____________________

There does not seem to be many "bad teacher" tunes out there. There is definitely a bunch of odes to teachers. After rummaging around collections of "I love you teach" or "I want to bed you teach songs", I thought of Pink Floyd's album, "The Wall". It was and still remains one of the great albums of all time. The song, "Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2" covers much of how I felt about MRS "I can't remember her name or face", my fifth grade teacher. 

I decided to include their original video and also a live version from I think, their 50th anniversary tour. Both of them are worthy. The live version is awesome.

Enjoy! And oh yeah, upping the volume only enhances the experience.