What is a story that you have been DYING to tell, but you have not seen the right Ask Lemmy question for it?
Let her rip here! Story Time!
Let her rip here! Story Time!
Here we go ...
I was in class in high school, and I found a pen under the desk. Not an ordinary cheap plastic throwaway pen, it was one of those expensive metal pens that telescoped together to pop in and out, with gold trim and enamel cloisonne all along the barrel, the sort that you would give someone for an expensive birthday present. Eager to do the right thing, I put my hand up and told Mr Schulz, asked if I should take it to the lost-and-found at the front office. "No," said Mr Schulz, "give it to me and I'll keep it in my desk here". It occurred to me that he uncharitably thought that I was going to get "lost" on the way there or back, instead of sitting in his lesson; I thought that he would hand it in to the front office on my behalf.
The policy at school was that if no-one collected an item from the lost-and-found, you could go and claim it. So a few weeks later, when I asked at the front office, I was surprised that the pen hadn't been handed in. I asked Mr Schulz about it, and he took the pen out of his drawer, and used his Swiss Army Knife to etch my name into it, saying that I might as well keep it, because no-one had claimed it.
Of course, within a few days one of the other boys saw me using it, and decided that I had stolen it from him. Before I could find Mr Schulz to get him to verify my version of events, he and several of his friends caught me in the corridor between lessons and beat me black and blue. Two black eyes, and so many bruises that I couldn't walk properly or stand up straight for weeks. My parents said "You must have done something to deserve it", took no action against the school, and made me go back to school the next day anyway.
I was summoned to the deputy headmaster's office. He told me that since I had stolen this pen from the other boy and put my name on it to make sure everyone thought it was mine, I was a disgrace to the school and would be put on detention (picking up litter before and after school, and at lunchtime, no canteen privileges, no excursions) for the rest of the year. I protested my innocence, so Mr Schulz was summoned, he promptly denied all knowledge and involvement, and straight up called me a liar.
Word had got around to all the teachers; by hearsay they also all decided that I was a thief and a liar, and gave me extra work to punish me, on top of my regular homework. I was now doing homework from the moment I got home until way past midnight, and in the mornings at 6am when my parents woke me up until 8:30 when I had to ride my bike to school.
I pretty much gave up on schoolwork, because if the teachers were going to lie, there was no way to know if what they were teaching was the truth, and if I asked questions about the problems I was having, especially in maths and physics, I was told to stop disrupting the class, because they had decided without evidence that I was a "juvenile delinquent" and not worth helping.
I had several serious bicycle accidents riding to and from school during this time, and I'm absolutely certain that it was because I fell asleep from pure exhaustion. I still have scars from those accidents, and I'll always remember how I got them.
I left school at the earliest opportunity, left my parents and lived on the streets for a few years, and thanks to a charity helping street kids, got an apprenticeship and a place to live. A few years after that, I sort-of-almost reconciled with my parents, who still believed the teacher's version of events, because "all teachers are good, honest, respectable people".
Throughout my own children's education, I always had anxiety attacks when I had to take them to school, or go to school for parent-teacher meetings etc, even though they attended a different school and we now live several states away.
That was over forty years ago, and I still feel like Mr Schulz both derailed my education, and ruined my plans for further education.
"School days are the best days of your life" -- I think not.
I'm sorry you went through all that, I hope you're in a better place now.
I have a couple of smaller, less bad stories from my time in school.
I was never particularly interested in school. I didn't have many friends, and those I did have, there was always drama and backstabbing with them (once actual stabbing as well when a kid stabbed me with a pencil on my cheek, just below the eye), so I just learned to be by myself most of the time. I also didn't find most subjects interesting, or maybe it was the teachers as now as an adult I love to learn, but as a kid I didn't do well at school at all. I wasn't failing either, I was just below average and could have done better if I took it seriously.
There was always one subject that I really struggled with tho; math. My teacher at the time had this system on one of the blackboards where he tracked how each kid was doing in terms of learning the multiplication tables. It was based on the solar system, which was pretty cool, I think he even cut out and laminated the planets and stuck them on the board, and each kid would have their name tag next to the planet they were on. Now... I don't think my name moved very high up on that board, as I just really struggled with it and was not offered any extra help. It was embarrassing to be the last kid, especially when everyone else was so high up. Eventually the planets and the names were taken off, but for months everyone could see how fucking stupid I really was...
The same teacher, he was also pretty lazy, as he didn't check homework. And of course nobody likes homework, and if nobody checks it... I just didn't do it. One day he was checking some other tasks on our workbook and we had to leave it on his desk. I was panicking because he'd flip through the pages and see how most of mine were empty. I had an idea; instead of haphazardly even trying to fill up the empty pages, I instead made bookmarks, and so that it wouldn't raise suspicions, I made bookmarks for all the subjects I had. I dropped of my workbook on his desk and pointed out the bookmarks sticking out, saying he could use them to find the pages he needed with the sweetest smile I could muster. He thanked me, and I went on not to be caught that day.
I did eventually get caught, and had to stand in front of the class room as my teacher yelled at the whole class, and even slammed his fist on the quiet kid's desk, making her jump in the air a bit. I was like 7 or 8, I don't really know why I was expected to know the importance of homework, or do it, when seemingly there were no repercussions for not doing it, but oh well... My mom hated that teacher, for his laziness, and blamed him for not doing his job properly.
Math continued to be the bane of my existence and when I was in my teens, I finally failed two math exams. I was put into tutoring/special education for a few lessons to prepare for the retakes, and I was actually doing fine. When I did the exams and got them back, the grades on them were really good, a handful of points away from top marks. I commented about it to the special ed teacher, saying I'd never gotten such a good score in a math test before, she dryly replied that it was an easier test, and I realized it was pointless to try, since it makes no difference anyway.
It took me years to find any joy in math, and even now I'm still a slow calculator. Also numbers just keep switching spots or 9 becomes a 6 all of a sudden. At school we always had to hurry, but I always need to go slow when it comes to math. And I like doing things on my own pace. I probably could have done better, if I could have had more time. But I didn't...
So, school sucked, but little did I know that it could suck even more...
It was friday, I was running a bit late (ironic as I literally lived next door to the school lol). I open the door to one of the lobbies at school, and already from the outside I could see one of my teachers whose class I had that morning, talking to two men in the lobby. I had a bad feeling in my stomach, but opened the door, and when the teacher greeted me, she sounded... surprised? The bad feeling was really intense now, and I knew I was in trouble, but not sure what for. I wasn't a great student, skipped school a lot, but I wasn't a bad kid. I never disturbed the class, I was quiet and mostly just sat at home playing video games. I think most people just described me as quiet, lonely, mostly well behaved.
Anyway, the teachers explains to me the two men are police and they want to talk to me about something. They introduce themselves, but honestly at this point things are a blur. I've just woken up a few minutes ago, my mom convinced me to go to school, and now I'm in trouble with the cops. Me and the cops, and I guess the principal at this point too, walk to the school nurse's office. My classmates could clearly see me when I arrived, as the school had windows and windowed doors everywhere, but luckily the upstairs hallway was cleared, so my walk of shame wasn't too public.
At the nurses office, the cops ask me questions, they search my bag, and I'm told that they think I had threatened to shoot up my school. Do note, I live in a country where firearms are difficult to get a hold of. Also I had never made any threats like that. This all came out of the blue for me. Well, after the cops had searched my bag and found nothing, they left, and the principal walked me to the class. I was not given even a minute to calm down, nor was I offered the option to go home. Nobody bothered to check if I was okay, which I fucking wasn't. I'm 13 and this whole thing is just so confusing and humiliating, but of course it could be more humiliating...
The principal explained she would be making an announcement about this, saying that it was a false alarm. I begged her not to, but she had no choice. I went into class, and of course we're doing group exercises. I join a group and awkwardly try to do my part. Then the announcement comes. I'm desperately trying to hold back tears, and just focus on the fact that it's friday and it's only a few hours before I can go home. The class ends and we're sent outside for the mandatory break (this was normal, in my country some breaks you have to go outside for fresh air). I was talking with some classmates, the atmosphere in the whole courtyard feels off. It's awkward and quiet. Suddenly some older kids come and surround me. The start throwing insults and unlit firecrackers at me. I see two of my teachers talking to each other just a few meters away, completely ignoring what is happening to me. Idk if any of my classmates went to notify them, but I just stood there, staring at the older kids as I got yelled at. I found it kinda funny tbh, but did my best not to show any emotion.
When the bell rang a few minutes later, I made my way to the next class, and because that day I could not have any normalcy at all, the teacher tells us he has to supervise another class, so we're put into a different class room and made to watch a documentary, about Johnny Cash iirc. I dreaded being left alone with my classmates, but luckily they didn't pay attention to me. Midway the documentary, the principal makes another announcement, calling the kids who bullied me on my break into her office, so I guess somebody saw what happened after all... A little later after that the principal comes by the classroom, giving my unruly classmates a bit of a shock, pulls me aside and tells me I can go home for the day, due to the bullying. I tell her I'll leave after the documentary, because I wanted to finish it, and leaving after the class would also arouse less attention, than leaving in the middle of it.
What followed from this was more bullying, with random kids whose names I didn't even know, yelling "BOOM" after me as I walked in the hallways. One kid would walk in front of me, with his back to where he was going, asking me if I'd kill him. That boy, my mom is friends with his parents, and him and his parents even hung out at my parents' summer house for like a week or so. My mom sometimes gives me updates about his life, idk why. Anyway, I also became paranoid for a long time, being afraid of random cars, thinking I was being followed and the cops might come back to take me away. When I moved and went into a new school I was terrified somebody might uncover what had happened and it would all come back to haunt me.
From what I learned after asking around was that somebody just started a rumor about me, and it had spread around for a few days or even weeks, before someone's parents were told and the call to the principal and then the cops were made. So, all of this was just a very cruel way to bully me even further. It's been almost 2 decades and I still feel humiliated, angry and betrayed. I feel like this could have been handled with more grace, or at least I could have been given more support how to deal with this, but I was just left to fend for myself. When I arrived to school that friday morning, everyone else knew what was going on, even the students, I was the only one completely unaware of the trap waiting for me. And I was just 13... A lonely, quiet kid with no friends... Nobody defended me, nobody asked me if I was okay, nobody cared about me at all.
Thank you for sharing. Sounds like you might have dyslexia? I believe there’s a form that just affects numbers. The brain is a weird thing. There’s so much going on in our lives at that age, bullying and trauma seem to form part of our later personality and they’re hard to recover from. Have you come out ok?
It's called dyscalculia when it's for numbers or math. I looked at the symptoms list and it doesn't really resonate. I used to count the coins in my piggy bank, and loved to do it, still do actually, and never had any trouble with it. With bigger calculations as well, I didn't have trouble if I could do it in peace, but as soon as there was any amount of pressure on me, I started to struggle. I also would definitely have benefited from a more individual and calm teaching style, and maybe my parents also shouldn't have been so accepting of my poor performance.
I sometimes actually grasped some concepts with ease and faster than some classmates, I remember having no difficulties with some chemistry calculations, while others did. And I also noticed that I really liked physics, math, chemistry, etc. if I was doing well, but often the teachers just couldn't give me the attention I needed, so I just fell off.
Idk if I've come out ok... I've had a lot of trauma in my life which I think lead to some pretty bad mental health issues, and now that those have been somewhat resolved, or rather they've evened out and/or I've learned to live with them, my physical health has started to fail. I finally managed to get a job after years of struggling only to develop a still undiagnosed chronic illness and having to leave the job and left to wonder wtf to do next. I don't think I really have a future, tbh...
My brain imagined someone taking pot shots at an old, abandoned, empty building while shouting obsceneties.
Here's a story I haven't told because it doesn't have a point, it was just an odd experience, and it involves pooping. Don't say you weren't warned.
One time, I was camping at my land near the shore off Lake Michigan. It was a really windy day, gusting over 30 knots, so I walked down the road to the town park on the shore to see the waves. That's where it hit me, the need to go, now. There was no question of walking back to my camp.
But that was no big deal, the park has a porta-potty, so I availed myself of it. The unusual part was that this particular brand is up on blocks, and has a grate for a floor. With the howling wind blowing in off of the lake, it would gust up through the floor. The toilet paper was flapping around wildly. Tree leaves were swirling through the air around me. The light turned a surreal green as it filtered through the plastic walls. It felt like pooping in a cash-grab booth in the Twilight Zone.
And, uh, this was a big one. It felt like it kept going and going for some time. All the while, the wind kept screaming, the TP was going mad, and leaves were pelting me.
When it was done, I had to catch the toilet paper, and then walk back holding my shorts up, because they were now too loose.