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)