My stepdad
His PE teacher was a right prick who used to ride his arse without mercy. I don't remember specifics but I remember my stepdad saying that he just wound him up something chronic.

One day they were having boxing lessons and this twat kept baiting Kevin, trying to rile him up. Now, ol' Kev's a competitive old bastard and the last thing he needs is a push.

So he socked the smarmy git one and knocked him out cold for fifteen minutes. Wish I could've seen that.
(ElGranto, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 7:32, 3 replies)

I got a scholarship
and went to a very selective, sports-oriented boarding school. In fact we each had individual time with a coach. Mine was the opposite of the cliche of a PE teacher: he was very smart, very old, very short, and very foreign (his name was Mister O'Day, but I think he'd changed it). However, he knew what he was doing, and was incredibly fit. I think he'd been in the Olympics, or his national team, for some kind of martial arts. Anyway he was very into 'sports psychology'; he never let me slack off, but I never felt bullied or put on by him. In fact I was devastated when, towards the end of the year, he died. But I still remember him saying "no! Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try."
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 6:20, 4 replies)

'Equal opportunities'
Up to 14 I was a regular football nut. I played cricket, was a good runner - long distance and sprint - and had just got into rugby union. But then I moved. Due to my new school's 'inclusions' policy, we were only allowed to play football, cricket, basketball etc - ie REAL sports - if the girls wanted to play the same thing. They never did.

My school didn't even have a football team (because no other schools ran mixed-sex teams past 13). If we wanted to play another school, we had to organise games for ourselves, outside of school time. Rugby was banned outright. So instead my late secondary school physical eduction consisted of thrashing girls at netball, possibly the easiest and most pointless 'sport' ever invented, and avoiding the wild stick attacks of pre-menstrual mentalists during field hockey. So, hey, we got to play sports with fit girls in gym strips? Nah, most of the girls were ugly. And I was fucking good at football.
(foxy01, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 5:52, 1 reply)

Not being a very athletic type...
... PE was a living hell for me for the first three years of school. Our PE teachers took the usual line of allowing the most rampant of bullying if the offenders were on a sports team.
Anyhoo, as I got a bit older, I found there were a few sports I enjoyed. I started to get a bit better at hockey and football and each time the teacher would tell me that I'd get a better mark this term. Never actually worked out that way though. When it came to marking reports for the term, the students were split up between the teachers who assigned an arbitrary mark based on hazy memories of what that student was like. As such, I always get marked by a teacher who hadn't taught me that term and as such, my marks were consistently crap, no matter how into the sport I got.
The dullest part was having two knackered wrists from an accident and sitting out almost a year of basketball and volleyball, only to be topped off with a report saying I wasn't applying myself to the sport...
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Mon 23 Nov 2009, 5:01, Reply)

At the end off PE
The boys would always have to wait outside the changing room so it could get unlocked after P.E. then we'd bundle in (literally) go to where our uniforms and bags were hooked to get changed and then usually the teacher who had to wait till we'd all finished to lock it after would come in and wait by the door.
Every single time this happened there would be a gap for around 5 minutes where everyone would start chanting "Let's go fucking mental" and then the lights might go out and someone unlucky would get their stuff taken and thrown across the room usually it was between some the thugs off the rugby team's.
Then the teahcer would come running in an shout at everyone to stfu and hurry up.
Everytime.. twice a week for 5 years.
(Bludfoot rushing out since, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 3:12, 1 reply)

My school
had a rubbish approach to P.E. If you didn't want to do it, you could opt to sit in a classroom for 2 hours doing shit all. Now I actually enjoyed P.E, but there were some days where either you just couldn't be fucked, you forgot your kit, or you and your mates decided you'd have more fun mucking about for 2 hours.

One day, me and two of my mates, along with around 40 other students, went and sat in the D.T workshop (the only place big enough to seat all of us). Now as you can imagine, 2 hours in a virtually unsupervised D.T room was any teenage boys dream come true.

So after the usual practices had been undertaken, i.e. setting other students bags on fire, glueing people to their seats and manipulating various bits of metal in any of the 4 machines, we set upon drawing up the most lewd, disgusting pictures we could, mainly involving the pervy old teacher supposed to be watching us, or any other member of staff.

Once our masterpieces were complete, they were stuck to the many whiteboards at the front of the room using ultra-strength glue. Unfortunately, said pervy teacher woke up before we could finish, and caught us sticking up the last of the art we had drawn. He was hugely unimpressed with our drawings, taking one as evidence to show to our head of year.

We all got in a lot of shit for it, but we all agree it was still the best P.E lesson any of us had ever had.

I always found it strange, though, that our teacher, out of all the possibilities, chose the picture of him fellating one of the janitors while playing the trombone as the picture he handed in.

(Apologies for length, and seemingly off-topic content)
(Jem Harley is finding it difficult to sleep, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 3:00, Reply)

Showers and cotton balls
Ah...PE...school...Apart from the lesbian PE teacher they were not too bad..you had to wear massive knickers thou...'gym knickers'..and they made you look like the back end of a bus..you could however wear a gym skirt over the top...if you were 'on'...so you had the choice of looking like a twat in apple catchers OR you could wear a nice sexy short skirt...which meant you were bleeding..WIN either way..
Anyway..the showers were the worst thing. No teenage girl really wants to get naked in front of each other so in order to avoid the humiliation of flashing your underdeveloped bosom and either non existent/or bushy pubic hair in front of each other we used to go in the showers and splash water over us....we then had to go and see the teacher who would look at our skin to see if it was wet enough to warrant us actually having had a shower!!
looking back on it...It pretty much seems like mass humiliation..but i guess they had our 'hygiene' in mind..
One poor girl who was very petite obviously got very paranoid about being a tittless wonder and decided it would be a good idea to put cotton wool down her bra....not plain white cotton wool.......multi coloured balls....so when she got undressed her white training bra looked like a bag of lucky charms....we of course took pity on her plight and immediately sympathized and she was forever after known as 'rainbow tits'....
Girls can be so cruel...
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 2:17, 5 replies)

Rugby Shenanigans
In year 8 during PE we were forced to do rugby union for a term - in an inner London school relatively near to Highbury (yay!) and White Hart Lane (boo!) this wasn't the most popular of sporting choices, especially seeing as they had plenty of proper shaped footballs lying around, but they seemed adamant that we had to get a bit closer to each other than newly-pubescent boys would like to be, and scrum/tackle/try our ways to physical fitness (I would say to a passing grade, but fucking hell, it was PE for Christ's sake!).

It so happened that my good friend Rob was (and still is) built like a tank, and had been ever since I'd met him the year previously, so I obviously joined forces with him for any team activities, as having someone twice the size of anyone else in the class was a good thing in my inexperienced rugby-playing eyes.

Mr Simon, our teacher, was explaining the rules of a 3-vs-3 drill we were playing. One member of the attackers would run forward with the ball, turning back on himself as the defending team tackled him. This would hold the ball up long enough for his attacking colleagues to run up behind him, allowing him to pass the ball to them on the overlap so they could advance past the line. Simple enough.

It came to our turn. Our team (well, mainly Rob) turned over the other lads as they attacked, but this wasn't unusual, nobody (a) knew what they were doing and (b) gave a shit. Then it was our turn. Rob took the ball in his gargantuan hands.

And he ran.

You know those shock-based road safety adverts where some slightly tipsy mortgage broker sends a jaywalking kid flying? It was just like watching that. The first two landed somewhere in Enfield, and, to his eternal credit, the other member of their team (who should've been marking against us on the overlap, but was clearly redundant in that role) bravely charged at the juggernaut. He got a good connection with Rob, but, not having been taught how to tackle yet, ended up holding on to Rob's waist trying to yank him down as he ran through. Mr Simon was not impressed, as he was trying to teach us tactics (although in my opinion hiding behind the biggest bloke is a pretty solid tactic), and shouted "ROB, HOLD THE BALL UP, HOLD THE BALL UP!"

So Rob carried on running holding the ball above his head...
(Dowbocop, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 1:26, Reply)

Ah Memories.
I remember one cricket match when the star batsman of our cricket team took a "Blacksmith's Hoik" at an easy ball. Absolutely skied the bastard clear over the boundary and hit one of the Lower Sixth girls right in the cunt. Didn't hurt her too much. Broke the head boys fingers though.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Mon 23 Nov 2009, 1:11, 4 replies)

The high school I went to...
Allowed 'bowling' as an option for PE. You had to do it AFTER school, but nonetheless...
(fai is rocking khaz modan server as of, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 0:19, 2 replies)

rugger
Now i must profess to a love of the game but when i was wee it was a different story ...

A wednesday afternoon spent shivering around a muddy field untill games master took pity on me and lent me his coat to stave off hypothermia,odd thing was i ended up with a certificate for my efforts !!!

Cross country ??-me and a bunch of assorted unfit teens ambling around local park and sneeking the odd crafty ciggie/bag of sweeties.

Length ?-irrelevant
(shug, Mon 23 Nov 2009, 0:04, Reply)

Also the sponsored walk
Some of the members cheated when they got out of sight of the teacher and hopped a cab.

Spent the next hour or so in a little chef eating burgers.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 22:43, Reply)

Worst cross country ever
Basically consisted of groups of lads running down the side of an extremely busy dual carriage way, then hiding in some bushes for twenty minutes and smoking fags and then emerging through a hole in the fence (around a blind corner)to make it look like we had done the four mile run.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 22:42, 2 replies)

Sports day
It's pretty disheartening being disqualified, at the age of six, from an egg and spoon race. They said quite clearly that we were to hold the spoon and the egg had to stay on at all times, if we dropped the egg then we had to pick it up, place it back on the spoon, and carry on.

Apparently holding the spoon by the bowl so the egg would merely bounce of your hands and back in, should it become dislodged, is against the rules. I threw such a hissy fit, they clarified it when explaining the rules for years to come.
( Muns, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 22:17, 1 reply)

Detention sorts out a few issues
1stly I loved PE - our School was a football school, we were good at football, I mean county cup district cup league cup & league winners. I was on the team so my experience of PE was great, except every time we played away half the team in the mini bus used to get out (on the way to the game and back home) crying.
This was before the years of seatbelts in the back and our mini bus was two benches either side of a transit number. Old even then, very cramped and the dead arms and insults to one another amazed me we were ever in a fit state to win a game of football.
Anyway my story is of a bully, which sort of ended the bullying in PE. I played football at weekends for a team and I had the misfortune to cut my leg from nut to knee, which left a rather nice scab & bruise. Well I was showing off my trophy scar when the "non brainiac of a bully thought it would be funny to hit my leg, and laugh. This lad had been a bully to me and others for some time, not particularly hard but strong enough with a threat to hurt. I think my control had reached its limit so I floored him (of sorts via a bench and landed on top of him laying out blows. Just when our teacher entered the room. Detention for us both. I turned up as I was generally a good kid, although naughty when I wanted to be and he didn’t he said I need to write down why I should be have in the changing rooms. Well I thought bollocks to that, so instead I write down all the things that he did not know about going on in the changing rooms, bulling, stealing and in detail. How it was always strange that one kid had a new pair of trainers on whilst another had bare foot, how a dead arm and dead leg was a reason for poor performance of half the class and how said bully and friends ruined everybody’s lunch by stealing it in the changing rooms. I took an extra half an hour on it, and then gave it in. I said to him, if you have half a brain you will read it. He did, a few things changed after that.
I got a good pasting........... Nah he sorted it but I was half expecting that to come and bite me in the ass. Instead the people who were being bullied, less so me, but the guy who stuttered the weedy peg like fella and a few others had an easier time in PE, and a mate of mine got to wear his trainers, at last.
(wobbler, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 22:06, 5 replies)

Homoeroticism & PE go hand in hand
A while back my school had some building work done on the changing rooms, and so the outside door and windows were blocked up. Hence the longstanding tradition of PE changing rooms and no natural light.
For some reason, a game ensued in the changing rooms, of the lightswitch being flicked off and genitals being waved around and put away before the light came back on. Much merriment was had by all. That is until the occassion where the light went off and a distinctive "SLAP" noise was heard.
The light came back on to reveal one lad rubbing his cheek and saying "OW, something slapped me" and another lad clearly in some discomfort around the Y-Fronts area. There was a moment of silence before their eyes met and the slow realisation as they put two and two together.
Hence the changing rooms shall forever be remembered as the scene where said boy was viciously cock-slapped. And HE became branded the gay one?
The mysteries of the boys changing room
(Voodoo-Child16 Pissed in their Champagne on, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 21:41, Reply)

Cross country
Who the hell decided this was a good idea?

Anyway, this school's mouthbreathing knuckledragger decided to give us a reason to try harder. So one good mark every time you came back in a faster time than before. Some people figured out that you'd improve if you tried hard. Me, I decided that my digital watch had a stopwatch for a reason. So, gimp it round like a dying albatross the first week for a baseline, then aim for a few seconds quicker next time, and so on and on.

Worked, too.

Next year, summer term, same challenge. So, same strategy. I did wonder if they'd catch on - but this *is* PE teachers we're talking about. I got away with it again.

(Still, I needed those good marks, as I had a shedload of bad marks to offset)

Edit: damn, forgot the length joke. I never seem to manage to pull that one off...
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 20:30, 1 reply)

If I was around for the 'Bullies' QOTW I would have posted this then.
But I wasn't. And part of it is PE Lesson related, so I'm posting it now.

I HATED senior school. I'm a lot more confident in myself now, but back when I was 11 and started at senior school, I was shy. And not just shy, but painfully, cripplingly shy. I didn't go out of my way to speak to people and got embarrassed and stuttery when they spoke to me. Mainly, when I could I kept myself to myself and I had a small group of friends that I'd been friends with since junior school, but they were in different tutor groups to me, so a lot of our lessons were apart.

The "popular" girls in my tutor group took my lack of speaking as me being "up myself". And the fact that I'd get nervous and stutter when they spoke to me as "me thinking I was too good to talk to them" and spread this around the school. Which lead to a lot of people chosing NOT to speak to me and the rest of them and there friends telling me I was a bitch and to go back to where I came from.

That first year of school I one friend in PE lessons. We stuck together when we had to pair up and I dealt with it. Then we started doing Netball. Which obviously involved picking teams. It was good when Fi (for that is her name) got picked to be a captain, because she was quite good at netball, but when she wasn't, I was left til last and more than often seperated from her.

I went to PE one day, changed, got called a pathetic bitch in the changing rooms and went out to the fields with Fi. Our teacher picked four people to be captains (we'd have two games going on at the same time) and one of them was Steph. Steph was sort of like that girl who EVERYONE (not me) wanted to be at school. She was sort of the leader of the girls in my year. The first person she picked to be on her team was me.

That day Netball turned from being Netball to being a game of "lets try and smack Melody in the face with the ball while the teacher isn't looking!". I'd spent months being ridiculed by these girls for no good reason, other than I hardly knew them and was uncomfortable around them. When they'd spoken to me I'd always made the effort to try and talk to them through my nervousness and they'd all just taken against me. I'd had enough. When they actually managed to hit me with the fucking ball, I ripped off my stupid little netball vest thing and stormed off, closely followed by Fi. I wasn't playing that game anymore.

The first thing that Steph did was go and tell the teacher that I was "ruining the game" and "not making an effort". I didn't see her go off, I was too busy trying not to cry, shaking, being comforted by Fi and trying to calm down. No, the thing that alerted me to was the sound of my teacher shrieking at me; "MELODY, HOW DARE YOU SIT DOWN IN MY LESSON?"

I nearly pissed myself I jumped so high.

Instead what I did, much to my embarrassment, was promptly burst into tears.

"OH STOP BEING PATHETIC, WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO SIT DOWN IN ONE OF MY LESSONS?! HOW DARE YOU. GET UP, GET UP RIGHT NOW." EVERYBODY was staring at me and I staggered to my feet and still crying, explained to her what was going on and why I'd stormed off, the whole time Steph and her friends were grinning at me. And the response I got from my teacher, after telling her I was being taunted?

"I DON'T CARE. THEY WOULDN'T HAVE TO THROW THE BALL AT YOU IF YOU WERE MAKING AN EFFORT, WOULD THEY? NOW GET IN AND GET CHANGED AND I WANT YOU BACK HERE AFTER REGISTRATION FOR DETENTION."

I'd never had a detention before and she spent the entire hour she was sat in with me GLARING at me. It was horrible and I swear I still think it was one of the longest hours I've ever had to sit through. My Mum phoned the school and demanded to speak to her the next day.

I wish I could say that Mum speaking to her sorted the whole thing out. It didn't. It just caused that bitchy teacher to glare at me and make snide comments about my Mum phoning her. She did leave the following year though. And Steph and her friends? They ended up getting warned off me. It still didn't stop them. I was still getting pushed around and bitched at by them when I left school. I'd learnt to tell them to fuck off by then. It just spurred them on.

I saw one of them the other day, outside the doctor's surgery. She acted like she was all pleased to see me and tried to talk to me. I decided to actually be the snob she'd thought I was and stuck my nose in the air and walked straight past her and her two little fuck trophy's.

EDIT: Oh dear, insert length joke here! Sorry about that.
(Melody was not PMSing on, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 20:14, 10 replies)

My PE teacher at comp looked like my Dad...
...Which makes this all the more disturbing for me...

I'd have been about 15 years old at the time and seeing as it was a bright, sunny day we were once again marched into the sweltering gym to do high jump...bastards. Now, I've always been quite good at high jump due to my natural gait being akin to tigger on speed.
So... we're all messing about, throwing the geeks *through* the high jump gear into the air mat so they bounced off into the climbing bars when in walks the dreaded Mr Rigley. Who immediately picked me to be his guinea pig in explaining how physics can make you jump better. To explain the concept of a 'centre of mass' he decided it would be good to stand me in front of the class, while he stood behind, reached around and rubbed my lower abdomen to show my 'centre of mass'. Now this was disturbing enough... A fat, hairy middle aged man who looks like my dad stroking my tummy...gross, but not the worst... No, the sick pervert then announces that as a girl I have to consider the weight of my breasts...and you guessed it, the filthy old perv reaches up to my considerably large pert young breasts.

Being 15 and unsure of how to say 'get the fuck off me you slimy old cunt' without getting expelled I looked to the class for help... Just in time to see Joe, my best male friend take a running jump and kick the sick old cunt in the face. I don't think I'll ever forget the lovely crunchy sound that emanated from Mr R's nose and jaw as he dropped like a sack of shit to the floor. Even better was watching him try to explain to the Headmistress why he didn't want to press charges against Joe. How could he? We'd have grassed him up!

PE teachers, cunts and perverts...all of them!
(Kimberelli is addicted to the shiny little magnets..., Sun 22 Nov 2009, 18:15, 62 replies)

I always hated PE
And a teacher who went by the name of Miss P. Me and my best mate hated all PE lessons, be it swimming, netball (oh yes, that was my most hated of the lot), cross country running and all the other bollocks we had to do, and went to great lenghts to avoid it at all costs (quite how I managed to go over a month by simply taking my walkman to the school bogs and staying there for an hour and not get caught, to this day I still don't know.....) anyway... I digress.

She was a real bitch and had time only for all the brown nosing sporty girls and anyone who wasn't good at sport, well, they really weren't worth knowing in her view, and she seemed to love letting her fabourites pick their own teams, guess who was always last? Yup, you're right.

Well there were 2 incidents which stick out in my mind, the time she came back from fucking her back up (supposedly a sports related injury but we heard the rumours it was because she was shagging the intern boy's coach who was a lot younger than her...) and was showing us all how to do the high jump and issued us with the words "now, if I don't get up after 2 minutes please ring an ambulance as I shouldn't be doing this because I could hurt my back further/break my neck" - cut to me and best mate standing with our fingers crossed..... and the time we were pissing around while everyone was practising shot put and we spotted an empty milk carton which we proceeded to inflate and drop the shot put on, making a huge bang, Miss P shitting herself and us being sent off the field until the end of the lesson. RESULT! Last I saw of her was her looking dead rough in the hairdressers with nasty little shitty kid screaming it's head off (supposedly said intern's baby, but he's long since fucked off).

And as for the other teacher, Mrs T, well, apologies for me and said friend kicking the shit out of your pride and joy (masses of roses on her front garden) all of those years ago on an alcohol fuelled night out. But it did make us laugh.
(Pumba Look for the red flashing light again... no!!!!!, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 17:18, Reply)

the competitive aspect
By some odd arrangement what with funds being left by some long dead benefactor - our school playing fields were miles away, and I mean other side of Glasgow miles away from our inner city school. This required two coaches for PE, and probably quite sensibly, that meant one for boys one for girls.

It was a 20 minute journey so to make up time it was customary for us to get changed into PE kit on the bus (which explains the mystery of why pairs of shoes are often seen at the side of the road – flung out the window of our school PE bus no doubt.)

This arrangement worked fine until one fateful day an otherwise dull trip was transformed when one coach driver decided to overtake the other on a brief stretch of dual carriageway. As the boys coach inched past the girls, the world went into slow motion – there they were; Jacqueline Marshall’s pale pert perfect breasts. The coach went wild.

Word must have circulated among the drivers because it seemed from then on every week there was a mad dash for the boys coach (always behind) to overtake on that hallowed stretch of dual carriageway. Accidental slip ups soon turned to school blouses pulled open and tits squashed against steamy windows – like Homer Simpson peering out of a diving mask. Spotty boy’s arses shoved up against the glass and both buses rocking with cheers and jeers. Good times.

The drivers seemed to love it and a lone PE teacher down the front was always going struggle to keep order what with a shed load of hormones careering along the highway. My guess is they kind of liked the competitive aspect (and probably the show).

All until one week that is when we heard the blues and twos - our bus just about exploded with cheers when it became apparent the girls bus was being pulled over by plod.

I’d have loved to have seen the coppers face when he realised he had pulled over a grinning speeding perv with 38 semi naked schoolgirls on board.

One for the wank bank surely.
(omnishambles ™ has been fucking things up big style since, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 17:14, 1 reply)

This is now the third time I've told this story.
The Swimming Gala at Upper School.
In which various pimply herberts competed for glory in the piss infested, bollock reducing over chlorinated puddle that was Sudbury Upper School's pool.

Anyway, we would have been around 15.
I was too piss poor a swimmer to be allowed near the events but my mate Eddie, who was a fine adept of the back stroke, was.

The pattern would go that the girl's event would take place, followed by the boys event of the same 'class' Most of the lads competing had, in view of the fact that it was the one time in the year you'd get to see the girls out of their shapeless uniforms wisely opted to wear swimming cossies in the 'baggy shorts' style which was incredibly popular towards the end of the 80's. Not Ed.

Ed was wearing skin tight Speedos. The backstroke came towards the end of the contest, by which time we'd sat through an awful lot of girls in swinsuits.

The backstroke event started.
Ed took the poidium somewhat reluctantly and had to be reminded three times to remove his tracky bottoms. Eventually he did so, to reveal an impressive erection straining against the aforementioned skin-tight Speedos.
The race started.
And then had to be restarted as all competitors bar one had collapsed(or would have done, had they not been being supported by the water of the pool) laughing at some wag shouting 'that's not fair sir, Eddie's using a rudder!'

Even to this day, getting on for 20 years later he still is occasionally addressed as Rudder.
But only out of his earshot.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 16:31, 4 replies)

PE in the States
Well, in NY, I've had some good PE teachers. In fifth grade, our gymnasium was just a basketball court sunk into concrete, with seating around it, for some reason. Still not sure why there were seats, as we didn't have any sports team at the school, and nobody else played there. In opposite corners, on the east side of the gym were the doors to the changing rooms, boy in the south-east corners, girls the north-east. One day while the guys were stretching out, our teacher was sitting in a chair at half-court, and decided that the girls were talking too much, and taking much too long to get changed. So, Mr. Maisonet did the logical thing, and threw his chair through the door to the girls locker room. We were surprised enough that he could throw a heavy wooden chair that far and hit the top of the door, but he also knocked it clean off it's hinges. Not dangerous at all.

The next year, we had his brother, Tito, as our gym coach. We all scratched our heads pondering how and why Tito became a gym coach, being so overweight that picking up a basketball or football (from either football or from the crap American game) up seemed to leave him winded.

A new year, and our gym coach was ripped. He also seemed to have his sanity intact, so we were all grateful for a proper coach for a change. Then we saw the rather large swastika tattooed on his upper arm and lost all will to go to school again.

For the four years of high school, we had an ex-Marine who seemed to think he was still serving, with an odd deployment as a PE teacher. He must have been 60 or older, and was a real hard ass who freaked out over any violation of the rules. Naturally, we did our best to make him angry enough to scream, but not enough to warrant detentions. For my part, I managed to miss the first year with three broken fingers, and promptly broke my nose the second year. For some reason, a broken nose means you can't play any sport in my school, so I sat out for another half year. I also got my doctor to write a note saying I have muscular myalgia, or some such thing, and he failed to put any end date on it. Basically, the note said I was tired and a bit sleepy. I'd use that for the last two years to get out whenever I didn't feel like playing. My crowning achievement in gym must have been showing up thirty minutes late to my next class (it was a forty minute long class), and having to explain to my teacher that I didn't have note. I'd fallen asleep in gym (while I was supposed to be playing, not on one of my sick days), and everyone had left without noticing me passed out in my hiding spot. I woke up thirty minutes after gym ended.

Probably the best one for messing with old Mr. Pinder was Joseph though. During a game of dodge ball, Pinder began yelling the usual crap about us not taking it seriously enough. We were all thinking, "It's dodge ball, how serious can it be?" Joseph decided to show his displeasure, though. He ran up to Pinder and stopped a foot in front of him, then turned around and mooned him. Later that year, Pinder made a call in volleyball that Joseph liked, so he ran up to Pinder, slapped him on the ass and gave him a kiss on the cheek before running away. Needless to say, Pinder hated Joseph, and we loved him.

Edit:Aside from being a crazy guy, above Nazi gym teacher was actually pretty funny, in a sickipedia sort of way. Sitting in seventh grade, we had a kid with cerebral palsy. It didn't affect anything except his one hand, which was permanently bent almost 90° down at the wrist. Playing dodge ball one day, my friend Ryan hit the kid dead centre on the top of that hand, really hard. Kid dropped to the floor screaming, because the way his bones were, it knocked them the wrong way going at high speed. Unfortunately for him, there was no help coming from the gym teacher, because he fell over laughing when he saw it.
( Ithyphallophobia, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 16:28, Reply)

I Won the Penguin Race!
I was rubbish at PE. Often came last, was usually one of the dregs when teams were picked, disliked it or hated it depending on sport and season, blah blah blah.

In primary school, we had a swimming sports day thing at the local swimming pool. An outdoor swimming pool. Unheated. (Our swimming lessons were usually in an indoor pool of another school.) Being rather crap at swimming, I was in the penguin race. That was the one with the polystyrene floats you held in front of you, because we couldn't really swim, yet. Apparently, I won, because, although I was close to last, I was the only one who hadn't touched the bottom of the pool during the race.

I vaguely remember doing well in an egg and spoon race for a similar reason of not touching the (solid stone) egg.

By and large, though, PE just put me off sports and physical exercise. Except swimming and cycling, but only because I didn't think of either activity as sports or physical exercise. I bet PE is one of the single biggest reasons we have growing long term health problems in this country.

Edited to add: I forgot the following. I'll add it now.

Cross country in secondary school, we ran down a lane, through some woods, that kind of thing. We'd have mud/earth stuck to our rugby/football boots by the end of it, that we'd knock/pick off. Some of mine wouldn't knock off, so I started prizing it off with my thumb. Some of it was a bit strange, though. Not crumbly like the rest of the drying mud. More sort of, well, gooey. And there was a smell, like shit. Like dog shit. Oh, shit! I was prizing dog shit off my boot with my own thumb!

Despite washing my thumb thoroughly a number of times, I spent at least a few days treating it as horribly unclean. Just the thought of having had dog shit in contact with my own flesh was, eugh! I made sure I ate my sandwiches with my other hand.

Eugh. I squeezed my own thumb into dog shit. Hard.
(Honourable Member is upstanding, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 16:19, Reply)

I loved PE
I don't know about you Brits, I've heard stories of your "public" school buggery and all that, but here in the states, the PE teachers leave the inappropriate sexual contact to the priests and generally just make you run round for an hour doing whatever sports haven't been banned by the state as being too violent or dangerous or too prone to hurt kid's feelings, except for my middle school PE teacher.

Mr. Patty was, at the time, terrifying, although looking back the things he did were pretty hilarious. He was about 7 feet tall and fresh off the boat from "Trinabago," which is what he called Trinidad and Tobago, because "dey mey be two islands, but dey are one country!" He looked just like Issac Hayes in Escape from New York.

Mr. Patty ran his PE class like a drill instructor. You even had to tuck your T-shirt into your athletic shorts Any infractions, no matter how minor were punished by "de pooshups," 20 at a time. If you complained, he would go on a tirade about how easy us kids have it: "You don know what it's like in Trinabago boy. Dey have you in de cane fields choppin a machete 12 hours a day. You tink de pooshups are hard? I send you to Trinabago and you see what's really hard."

His favorite thing to make us do was play a game he invented called Smittyball, which was a lot like kickball, except you played it indoors on a basketball court, and you used a basketball instead of a soft rubber playground ball. The only way to tag someone out in Smittyball was to hit them with the ball. Headshots were encouraged.

But the highlight of my PE experience didn't even come in PE class. It was at a school dance, when Mr. Patty had the misfortune of having to be a chaperone. To get himself through this harrowing experience, Mr. Patty showed up blind stinking drunk, probably off of some sort of high proof sugar cane moonshine that he cut down and distilled himself. He was pretty jovial at first, dancing with the kids and having a good time, but his good time soon turned sour. When a parent complained to him that they didn't think a chaperone should be intoxicated at a middle school dance, Mr. Patty wound up and socked the parent right in the jaw with a haymaker straight from the islands. The resulting brawl lasted the better part of 15 minutes until the police arrived and broke it up. Mr. Patty was suspended and had to issue a public apology. The parent went to the hospital. nobody complained about "de pooshups" after that.
(raulduke, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 16:03, 4 replies)

Ah cross country
I was always pretty shit at running long distances. One year we went to Cleethorpes boating lake for it, and the whole thing was a monumental failure as our year ran. Now, being slow, I was near the back. I saw everyone run for a shortcut which cut a good 3km off the entire thing and removed the need to run along the beach. However, I saw a teacher off in the distance and decided against cheating. With the end result that I got a silver medal, because said teacher was ticking a box with our names as we ran by. Everyone else apart from the guys who came first and third got disqualified. But yay for undeserved glory!



Also, some chinese kid smashed his face on the road.
( morrybyte made a subtle namechange at, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 15:50, Reply)

Did anyone like PE?
It's been really surprising to me to see so many peope hate PE as much as I did. The thirty-odd years ago when I used to do PE and managed to drop it.

My mum indulged my hatred of PE whenever I was ill and I usually ended up taking weeks off school. As I was a promising student the school reached a compromise that I could sit out of PE and do other work so I ended up missing PE from about 13 onwards.

The thing is, now I'm fat, flabby and 45 with raging blood pressure, I wish I had managed to enjoy it more. Perhaps I'd be fitter now.

Also I would have had many more glimpses of Mr Rollinson's hairy chest.
(BearWithLittleBrain, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 14:19, 5 replies)

On the first week of school
As a bunch of scared little eleven year olds, where everything was bigger than us, we didn't set a foot wrong. Would do out best to get where we were meant to be and try not to get lost on the way. All except one kid, I'd been chatting to him a bit between lessons and the like, but when we got to PE there was no sign of him. In the French lesson afterwards he was suddenly there again.

Now this was the in the time before registers were all computerised and preprinted and stuff. On the first lesson the teacher would ask your names and would fill in the register as he went.

What this eleven year old genius had realised is that if he missed the first PE lesson and every lesson afterwards then they would never know he existed. They would never miss him. And you know what, it bloody worked! In one fell swoop this guy managed to get out of every PE lesson for the next five years.

Im am still in awe that this skinny little eleven year old both thought of such a scam and had the guts to pull it off.
(Angus Prune, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 14:13, 2 replies)

evil mrs thong
i cant remember her actual name but for the purpose of this story we shall call her 'mrs thong' because of the memorable time she told a girl to put their thong in her hand. she was an aussie and they call shoes or whatever thongs.

she managed to completely ignore a girl winding up my friend for weeks and weeks. strangely enough, when my friend had completely enough and exploded, she did notice. basically, amy made a lunge at the girl in the changing rooms and managed to make her fall into the massive spare trainers box... which was hilarious. unfortunately, in a rare moment of awareness, mrs thong saw what was about to happen and rushed forward.

she and a couple of other girls broke up the fight. amy burst into tears and we walked her out. just before she went, mrs thong asked if she'd known she'd accidentally hit her in the face. amy looked absolutely confused and apologised. she hadn't meant to.

we comforted amy and decided enough was enough. amy got changed and decided to make a complaint about the girl bullying her for so long. this would probably have put an end to things if evil mrs australia hadnt got there first and made a complaint about amy hitting her. WTF? so rather than nasty bully getting suspended, amy did for accidentally hitting evil mrs thong in the face. im not entirely sure what mrs thong expected when she went to break up a fight.

she was an evil task master as well. we sang when she left.
(ladyintheradiator, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 13:29, 1 reply)

in a free period we were sitting on a grass near a year 9 rounders game
all of the fielders started spreading themselves out and moving backwards. one of the girls didnt stop and kept going until she reached the school building, casually turned around and walked off. so she'd have been on the register but didnt do the lesson.

and the pe teacher didnt notice. wish id thought of that.
(ladyintheradiator, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 13:20, 1 reply)