Just remebered!
Picture the scene. RS a bunch of "wierd" kids,
(as that is what we were called for not liking popular music and not dressing like a pikey.the exact terms given were emos, goths.. or "mentally unstable" in my case...)

so a bunch of "wierd kids" (about 12 of us..)equally irritate dthta the "populars" who clearly had no interest in the subject had taken over our class sitting in the corner doing make up as always,
Imagine our faces when another one turns up, (who looks like Neil from the young ones coincidently) after nine weeks, thinking shes better and attempts to push us around,

Then picture our faces when we find out she got transferred for having a more than teacher student relationship with somone :-D
then imagine how quickly the piss taking caught on, especially when somone compared her to a shark
:
Chaging the ethics question from an affari between office worker and secretary to teacher and student, Humming the jaws theme tune, picking up on her "quotes" (shut up! im trying to learn, whats the point!, your so easily amused Farmerjam!!)

sorry for length and overall crapness and unfunniness, but ive had to put up with her, thought id share the burden :-D
(Mister Negative Who watches the welshman??, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 15:00, Reply)

ahhh year nine biology..
year nine biology, submitting questions such as "what is a glory hole?" signed by the class victim into the new,rather ignorant teacher and watching her read them out as her face turned bright red :-)
(Mister Negative Who watches the welshman??, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 14:19, Reply)

a school in pembrokeshire
At school is was one of the quiet fat students, and tall (6'4"), meaning I carried a fair bit of weight without looking like a beached whale/ball on legs.

Anyway, the was a practical session for A-level physics where the class was split into small groups who had to build bridges using a finite amount of cardboard, cellotape, string and glue. the fun part was to see how much weight they could hold before collapsing. The conventional kg weights were used, and when they proved insufficent, it was decided to use people, with my 18+ stone (115+ kg) bulk providing the upper weight limit. The bridge held, barring a cut caused by the tread of my shoe. I then decided to get down the quick way & jumped off the table, only to land on the access panel to the electrics.


I managed to inflict a semi-circular crater on the panel. The panel itself was made from wood about 1 to 1.5 inches thick. I could see this was the case, as the top the dent was about half an inch beneath the underside of the floorboard. It was afterwards I found out about the electrics and large nails that lurked beneath. I also had to report the damage to the caretaker's supervisor - surprisingly I wasn't charged for the damage. They did have to put a desk over the hole to prevent trips; this also inhibited access between classrooms.(The school had a weird set up were you could only access certain classrooms on the top floor using each staircase, with interconnecting doors for a fire escape which students used to cut through if they came up the wrong stairs).

Since leaving they've replaced the floor and I've shed the excess.

Also remember an incident in English on my 16th, when the English teacher and head of year made a comment regarding my birthday that I wasn't in the mood for. So i decided to pull her chair out from under her as she went to sit down. All I got was a bollocking after apologising - not detention or suspension. the others grumbled that if anyoneelse had tried it they would have been in it neck deep.
(trainee mad doctor is currently trying to build a secret laboratory, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 14:05, Reply)

I went to two catholic schools
and subsequently stay the fudge away from church these days. The secondary school was home to every cretin within a 3 mile radius and wasn’t particularly pious. But my primary school jolly well was.

I'm one of the few people I know who really hated primary school - most say it was a laugh riot - but I just remember feeling scared and anxious the whole time.

It was all a bit *slap slap* wicked child you see. There were no male teachers, no Darwin's theory of evolution and punishment was standing with your face against a brick wall.

Once my brother, who was in year two at the time, got his darling picture of the 3 wise men torn up because he had painted their hair blue. He didn't tell us about this traumatic experience until years later which was a shame as my mum would have torn strips off her like.

Anyway I have many glum memories of my time in primary school as the weird kid, but one that sticks out rather well, and really isn't that traumatic or funneh is of one day in year 3 when we had a wet break and the whole of year 3 were sat in the hall twiddling their thumbs. I would just like to mention as it is relevant that every Easter we had to watch a pretty unpleasant video about the crucifixion. Whilst not being Passion of the Christ, it still wasn't very nice for us bug-eyed little scamps and someone would always end up in tears.

Anyway on this particular break, a teacher holds up the Holy Grail - a VHS copy of Home Alone and suggests we watch it. The hall cannot contain its excitement. Such a thing of joy or fun has never been viewed within these walls and the likes of wont be seen again until the truly bizarre 'some of your bits ain’t nice' sex ed video we will watch in year 6 (don’t know how they let that one pass).

But "oooh noo" quoth a lardy teacher, pointing at the PG certificate, "We couldn’t possibly let them watch it without their parent's consent." And so any chance of fun is nicely chucked out of the window and we watch something about Jesus instead. I always wanted to know what certificate that crucifixion video was. The cows. Any by the way how the fuck was Watership Down a U??! Not that we got to watch that in school.

The injustices of this world are just too much sometimes.
(Eldoofus, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 12:30, 3 replies)

Every school I went to....
Well, both of them, has had

1) A teacher who was sacked from a previous job for some act of Psychopathery which resulted in either the death or serious injury of a pupil

2) A teacher who was gay, and would bum you in a particular store cupboard or other

3) A teacher (always a lady) who has previously come in at some point with a mini skirt and no undies on, giving an entire class an eyeful

4) A lesbian teacher who would do the female equivalent of bum the girls, again this always happened in a specific cupboard

5) A teacher who had made a pupil pregnant

These were treated as gospel by all and inspired genuine lusts/fear (delete where applicable) amongst the entire population.

There may be more ludicrous teacher myths, will post as they come to me.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Sun 1 Feb 2009, 12:27, 2 replies)

Cold
We weren't supposed to go to school if the temperature was below a certain point, so in the winter, if the heating was broken, we got a day off.

One year, Johnty, an enterprising year 8, actually switched off the heating in Cavendish house. We got nearly a week off before someone noticed.
( Peapod Has returned to the fold on, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 12:24, 2 replies)

Then there was the time...
...when I was vision mixer for our Year 13 prizegiving, which was a flash way of saying I decided whether camera 1 or camera 2 were on the projector screen at any given time.

The guy in charge of sound was a friend of mine and I convinced him to play the Imperial Death March from Star Wars when our principal was walking onto the stage for his attempt at an inspirational speech. The teacher in charge of us got a bit of a bollocking for letting us do it, but later he told me it was totally worth it. The best part is that it did undermine his speech as the audience never quite got over that initial gigglefit.
(ElGranto, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 11:59, Reply)

Poacher turned Gamekeeper
Having suffered through twelve years of school as a pupil and three as a teacher, here's my tuppence worth of anecdotes.

* An English teacher did extra football training for pupils keen enough. It was strange how he came round while we were showering and offered shower gel, so that we had to pull back the shower curtain and stand there in our naked glory, but we never really thought about it at the time.

* In my fifth year (this is a Scottish school) I missed over a quarter of all classes... and still got the pupil of the year (Dux) award. Haha!!

* In my primary school we had a nutter teacher, bit too fond of using his hands. Getting banged in the back of the head with a hardback bible wasn't nice, but watching him lift up the resident pain-in-the-arse by the jumper and hurl him out the class was pretty funny.

*There was a teacher who was a dead ringer for a model in a soft porn mag I had. Happily, she was my maths teacher and wore really nice short woolen skirts. Mmmm!!!

* I had a bottom-set S4 class in my first year teaching. They were an, ahem, interesting group. Highlights included - one of the boys coming in reeking of hash and promptly falling asleep; one of the girls showing me a video clip of a man being beheaded on her mobilephone; a boy starting to roll a joint when my back was turned; being asked if I'd ever taken heroin; and a girl screaming like a murder-victim when a wasp flew in. Morons, but nice morons.

* An S3 boy challening me to a fight. Every male instinct in me wanting to beat him to a pulp but professionalism only lets me give a "more disappointed than angry" look (while I call for the senior staff to take him away).

Funny days... sort of.
(McChinaman banned, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 11:57, Reply)

Sergeant Bilko's dirty secret..........
I generally enjoyed school. Teachers were all mostly normal, got decent exam results and spent most of my 6th year playing football so have no complaints.

About the only thing I could complain about was a creepy Modern Studies teacher who had an uncanny resemblance to Sergeant Bilko. He was in his mid-50s and an ex-docker, and thought of himself as an equal to Billy Connolly in the "man of the people" stakes. He was in fact, a complete cretin. He had absolutely no interest in any of the males in his classes, as in he didn't even bother learning their names or asking them any questions. He was clearly getting his kicks in chatting up any girls in his classes - even if they were pig ugly. He also went on endlessly about his 2nd wife due to her being half his age - he was actually Partridge like with his "My wife ran off with a fitness instructor but now i have a russian girlfriend, Sonja, who is 14 years younger then me, Back of the net!", as if it made him some sort of super stud. Anyway, most folk in my year hated him for his creepy attitude towards any female, so it was with unbridled joy that this story broke in the summer holidays just after i left high school news.bbc.co.uk/1/low/scotland/1466530.stm

I was in Gran Canaria with 8 of my mates that summer, and we were only 2 days into our holiday when one of my mates came back from the shops with a Daily Record - with that story on the front page! Even further in it had his wedding photo and a full spread about his misdemeanour! I have never laughed so much in my entire life - and I couldn't think of someone more deserving of being caught than this specky, dimple chinned arsehole! He took a sickie from work, took the girl back to his house, but unfortunately his wife that day finished work early - and discovered a naked 14 year old hiding in her closet! He spent around 1 year in Barlinnie (a notoriously tough jail, even for the west of Scotland!) where I hope he was battered and beaten every day for being the complete and utter nonce that he was.

So in summary, I think every school had a slightly creepy, sinister teacher that pupils had their suspicions about - he was just one of the unfortunate ones that actually get caught! Happy days!
(calikeo, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 11:53, Reply)

The smelly kid
Every school had one. That kid who wasn't a bad person, but they never seemed to get their head around personal hygeine.

Ours was Nicky, and while he was mostly unremarkable, I'll never forget the time he let out a glorious sneeze in class, so glorious that it filled his hand with snot. And instead of bolting for the bathroom and getting a tissue, what did Nicky do?

He shoved it down the front of his undies.
(ElGranto, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 11:46, 2 replies)

A girl in my former school...
was a complete, 100% grade-A, free-range nutter. She was a couple of years below me so I don't know her name, but her reputation was known throughout the whole school.

One time, going home, she and a group of her equally messed up friends were trying to set fire to a box which was emitting a kind of skuffling noise. I noticed this and asked them why they were doing it. They looked up about to give a torrent of abuse when they noticed how tall I was and how easily i could crush their skulls (I would never do this. I'm a gentle giant).

So they promptly got up and legged it, leaving the box and dropping the lighter.

I bent down, opened the box and in the box there was...

A live squirrel.
(General_Manchego, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 11:18, 1 reply)

Ms Price
Ms Price started teaching social studies when I was in 4th form (Year 10). Fresh out of teacher's college, she was blonde, spunky and dangerously aware of it, though thankfully perhaps not aware enough as she chose to be very "friendly" with all the boys with flagrant disregard for their fragile teenage egos and massive sexual hunger.

Most of us have been hot for teacher once or twice so I don't need to go into too much detail: you'd always get a peek at the top of her g-string whenever she bent over to pick up the pen she'd drop at least once every class (if she wore one that day), she'd regale us with stories of how she was a cheerleader for the Otago rugby team and a "spokeswoman" for Speights (a New Zealand beer) while she was a student and her magnificent breasts were always on display whenever she was working at her desk so there was always a clamour for seats in the front row.

It turned out that she opened Pandora's box by toying with us uncouth savages as she had a nervous breakdown before that first year was up. No one knew exactly why, although it probably had something to do with all the sexual harrassment she brought onto herself. Rumours abounded that she was caught having an affair with a student and, while no one had any solid evidence to back it up, I'm SURE it happened and I'm still jealous of the bastard.

But the best part? At the time, my surname was also Price (child of divorce), which led to endless jokes about Ms Price and I being married. Still didn't do me any damn good though, so I guess it's true what they say about marriage killing your sex life.

Ms Price, wherever you are, thank you for the many, many glimpses of your rocking cans. It helped me through some tough times.

Length? She never knew...
(ElGranto, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 11:15, Reply)

injury
some numpty at my secondary school was opening window blinds on the first floor of the building when he felt out, breaking his arm on impact.

the injury he sustained was not as bad however, as the boy in a home ec class in a different part of the building who saw him fall, fainted, cracked his head on the side of the desk on the way down, and fractured his skull.

john taylor high school, now a science academy.
(magictorch, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 11:08, 1 reply)

crippling diagnosed aspergers
my mother was a primary school teacher. she taught in a pretty deprived part of manchester, and although the kids were lovely, some of them did have very sad home lives. one year she had a child called michael o'boyle, who wasn't quite right. not only was he fluorescently, offensively ginger, but he frightened the other children and was generally pretty creepy. michael had been fostered from being a toddler, and his adoptive mother adored him. at first, anyway.

one break time he smashed his milk bottle by dropping it. when the dinner lady scolded him, he threatened her with one of the pieces of glass. then proceeded to cut his own hand open with it. he was 6.

a week later, mother found him sitting in the library corner. not reading his book, but pulling out the stitches so that his hand bled profusely and crooning to himself.

a couple of weeks after that, he asked to go to the toilet. the boys' toilet was across the hall. after he had gone, mum thought she had better check on him. michael had dragged a chair in there, and was squatting over the sink, curling one out. he said that he thought the toilets were "too dirty". (actually, he probably had a point. this was the late 80's and my mother's class alone had 35 children in it. feck knows how she coped!)

after christmas, michael didn't come back. his mother told my mother that they had all been enjoying christmas day, including her own grown up children, when all the electrics had gone out. no lights, no oven, no turkey. eventually they found an electrician who could fix it on christmas day. after a couple of hours, he found the place in the loft where michael had pulled the wires out. on purpose. the electrician said it was a miracle he hadn't killed himself. michael said he hadn't wanted anyone else there, just him and his mother. again, he was 6 .

after that, his adoptive mother had sent him back to care. from time to time, michael would call her from the home, and would start off quite normal, but end up sounding really quite chilling. he'd say things like "do you still love me, mummy? i still love you, mummy. and i'm coming to see you soon." but by now, he was 16.

this story of michael o'boyle used to creep the hell out of me when i was little! although i never heard of a manchester family being burned in their beds by an adopted child, so i can only assume he grew out of it.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 10:51, Reply)

Cinderella
Apparently, one of my old PE teachers put in my school report that I reminded him of Cinderella, as "I was always running away from the ball".

Seems oddly literate for a PE teacher if you ask me, but my parents swear blind it's true.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 9:35, 4 replies)

French
like 80% of the kids in my year, I hated languages, probably because of the general shoddyness of the teaching we recieved and we worked our way through 4 teachers in the final year.

(including an American on September the 11th, but thats another story)

but anyway, I digress... during double periods the fact that we hadn't done anything but create a more versatile paper airplane, boredom had truly set in. The teacher clocked on the to the fact we'd done nothing (as usual) and began inspecting everyones little lined paper books...

Example of following inspection:

Miss Grey (in ridiculous french accent): Adam, were is todays work, you've been in lesson for 90 minutes, were is your work?
Adam: erm, erm...
Miss Grey: detention!

It continues in this vein right up the left side of the room until she reaches me...

"Ryan, Ryan why have you done no work? every time I come over you've never done work..." "but, but I did it!"
"were? you have not done work..."
"I did it in.... I did it in white ink!"
"..... oh.... well ok next time do it in black ink"

meheehe, excelent
(lightie, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 9:25, Reply)

does anyone remember
the Star Wars Kid?

Well, some people raised money for him. I think they bought him an iPod.

But my friend had the best idea ever. He wanted the money to go on hiring the guy who played Darth Maul, to teach him some proper staff/lightsaber techniques.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 6:36, Reply)

I gots my edumekation
I have a few stories from my school days.

Like most, I wasn't popular, but I wasn't picked on or hated. I graduated in 2000, so instead of emos we had goths. I grew up in rural Oklahoma, so my school was extremely small and everyone pretty much got along.

A few of my favorite stories include:

- We had a girl in the class above me who was in a wheelchair. And not just any wheelchair, but a fancy electric one. She was allowed to leave class early, and the entire school could hear her driving about, a sound somewhere between a go-kart and a golf cart.

Anyway, in our art class there were electrical sockets in the floor at every station. I assume they were intended for use of some type art tools that our school didn't have because they'd rather buy the losing football team new uniforms.

I digress... so these electrical sockets had accumulated small bits of paper over the years that the janitor was too lazy to try to sweep up. One day the girl in the wheelchair went to the back of the classroom to get some supplies and happily whirred over a socket, which somehow generated a spark, which ignited years and years worth of scrap paper. A small fire burned for a good 20 minutes before the nutcase art teacher saw it and freaked out. She blamed the usual class clown, and he took it, as we didn't have the heart to tell wheelchair girl she had caused the fire.

- Our Jr High had some type of crazy "modern" design, well, modern in the 60s. It was actually kind of cool, we had a few upstairs classrooms that over looked the common areas, which made for interesting gazing out the windows during boring lessons. The library was in the middle of the school, and sunk down about 6 feet with angled glass all around it, and the teachers lounge was an open room that sat above the library.

Of course, every school has the weird substitute teacher. Ours wore polyester suits and had a bad combover with thick glasses and walked around with a briefcase.

I had the misfortune of having English my first hour, so there we were, looking up references for our research papers, feeling pretty miserable in general when we heard some weird noise from the teachers lounge... followed by a briefcase flying out of the stairwell and skidding down the angled glass. We chuckled slightly and started to look back at our work when we heard much louder thumping then saw a mass of polyester and stringy hair tumble out from the stairwell. The teacher lay there crumpled for a moment and we all stood perfectly still thinking we just witnessed someone die. Then he stood up, straightened his coat jacket, fixed his combover, and retrieved his briefcase from the glass and walked off, as if nothing happened. Everyone, including the teachers, exploded with laughter.

- And lastly, at my high school there were reserved parking spaces for teachers only. Naturally they were the row closest to the building. However the sign that read "TEACHERS ONLY" sat in the MIDDLE of one parking spot. The was a most coveted spot by students, as it was obviously half student and half teacher, so it was a free for all. I happened to take a college course in the middle of the day and always got to park there when I returned back to the school later in the day.

Well, one day the vice principal saw me park there and issued a Saturday detention. I was a bit miffed I'd miss a day of pay from my part time job, but I thought it would be cool to have a few hours to catch up on reading some books and magazines I had laying around. I arrived to school and the bitch watching over everyone wouldn't let me in the door because I didn't have any "real schoolwork" to do. I explained it was the end of the semester and all of my classes were done, so I literally didn't have anything at all to do. She still wouldn't let me in, so I just shrugged it off and enjoyed my work free Saturday afternoon.

The next Monday the Vice Principal pulled me out of my first class and told me I was suspended for the day for not going to Saturday school. I told him the old bat wouldn't let me do my Saturday school, then I told him that was the dumbest punishment ever, to "allow" someone to not show up for school when the "offense" was not showing up to school in the first place. He then raised it to a three day suspension and I said "Thanks! Now I can pick up extra shifts for the money I missed last Saturday" and happily trotted off.

Of course they called my mom, who just happened to be a paralegal for the district attorney. She then laughed at the whole story and stated she'd have her boss look into the matter.

I don't know what he found, but I do know I was allowed to make up the work I missed while I was suspended, the whole incedent was dropped from my record, and the old bat was relieved of her Saturday School duties.
(StupidAmericanTourist, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 5:40, Reply)

Colin
When I started high school, I was put into "the extension class" along with everyone else who scored high enough on the entrance exam (there were only 6 guys including myself and about 20 girls). One of the other guys in the class was Colin, the teenage anarchist. He used to do things like put Twink down the edge of his shoe and set it on fire during class, as well as being a bit of a cock in the usual way of the alpha male, which led to some awesome displays.

The best occured in science class when we were doing electricity. The teacher had brought in some plugs (as in, the plugs connected to the cord connected to whatever it is you're plugging into a socket) with the intention of teaching us how electricity works by having us put together a plug, but seeing as how Colin was a bit of an amatuer electrician he put it together while the teacher was handing the rest out (he really should've known better than to give Colin the first plug, but that just reflects how crap my school was).

After he had a completed plug, one of the other guys dared him to plug it in, leave it hanging out a bit, turn on the switch and touch the prongs. Colin was never one to say fuck off to a dumb idea, so he did.

BOOM

Sparks exploded out of the socket as the power in the two-class science block (like I said, crap school) went out and Colin began convulsing violently. A myriad of tiny cuts had exploded up his arm and his eyes could only have been described as manic. It took a decent hour before the twitching went away.

All up he did damage worth $2000. And his punishment? He got to skive off class for two weeks as the office runner. Bullshit!

Just a final wee prologue on Colin: Shortly after this he got booted from the extension class and put into one of the "normal" ones. He finally got expelled after he inhaled some of the gas from the LPG tap for the bunsen burners, tried to spit out a fireball by using his lighter and ended up singing off all his hair to about halfway up his head, including eyebrows. The formal was a week later. Needless to say, his photo was hilarious.
(ElGranto, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 5:12, 3 replies)

Some Things Never Change
I recently found my report card from 2nd Grade. I had outstanding marks in Math and Science, and average marks in English and Spelling. So it figures I would become a mechanical engineer.

But the real kicker was the remark that Sister Maureen wrote at the bottom:

"Mark can do beautiful work but tends to daydream too much."

It's more than 30 years later, and I couldn't agree more.
(DingoChavez I will be good. I will be good., Sun 1 Feb 2009, 3:15, Reply)

Not really my story but...
My flatmate used to be on his (very posh, private) school rugby team. When they had matches away at other (very posh, private) schools they would 'Tag-Team Shit' a toilet in the other school.

The entire 1st XV plus subs and some coaches would all do a big shit in one toilet without flushing in between. Then they'd bugger off and leave it for the poor caretaker of the other school to find later.
Gross.
(Freeman999, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 2:59, 2 replies)

Jellybean
I went to a large highschool in Wales, and news of this event spread amongst our spotty ears like fat, sweaty wildfire.
Mr. G was a fat, sweaty Welsh teacher who shrieked orders in a high, nasal bark.
Welsh lessons were compulsory until we were 16, and a bit of a joke, especially if you had G as teacher. We were young, carefree and horny, why would we ever need to speak Welsh, especially with this man/buffalo hybrid?

Mr. G was a widower, and his wife had charmingly christened him "Jellybean", I can only assume because he consumed the sugary nuggets by the truck full.
Welsh lessons were held in cramped, hot portacabins, and one particularly armpittingly moist summer day, the brats were completing a mundane task in Welsh (probably describing favourite colours/bands/masturbation fantasies) and covertly passing something between themselves. Of course, G demanded to see the offending object that was causing such disruption.

It was a bag of jellybeans.

The reaction was instantaneous.
His bottom lip shook.
He thrust his arm into the air, scattering the multicoloured beasts everywhere, and burst into a wobbly jog towards the tiny storage room at the back of the classroom, slamming the door behind him.
A moment of silence followed, the calm before the storm. Then, silent chaos. Every table, every chair, every item that could be moved, was quickly placed in front of the closet door. A triumphant battle cry of "ARGHHHHHHHHH FREE LESSON!!!!!!!!" was emitted, and a stampede of sweaty, victorious teenagers burst into the sun, leaving the screams of a very trapped, very angry, and very Welsh buffalo in the distance...
(reducedfatLOLcat, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 2:05, 1 reply)

Good point falls flat.
Can’t believe I forgot this gem!

In year 7 (aged 11-12) myself and a group of mates would sit in our form room to eat lunch and avoid the horrors of the dinner hall and hide from the fact we were the year’s outcasts.

One of the group, who we shall refer to as MB, was sat next to me, leaning back on his chair which in a science lab, it a very high stool. So great was his lean, he was using his right hand to hold onto the edge of the desk.

I forget what we were talking about, other then the fact I’d just made a point that seemed to disprove his stance on some trivial issue. He went to make his defence saying “Ah, but,” raising his right hand and extending his index finger, a mirror of the point he was about to make. Only, he didn’t. He’d let go off the desk. For a second he seemed to hang in mid air, then grabbed desperately for the edge of the desk, but alas, was now moving backwards rapidly, his hands fell short and he fell backwards, a panicked and desperate look on his face, hitting the ground hard, and totally unable to protect himself. I laughed. Hard. He was very angry with me.

Looking back, I shouldn’t have laughed, or could have at least helped him to his feet. Sorry MB, but it was the single greatest act of stupidity I have seen outside the animal kingdom.
(Mong goose, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 1:40, Reply)

Shitty Feet

The school hall was full of parents, well wishers, and quite possibly members of the international paperazzi.

Young Spanky is looking rather dashing in tiny sparkly shorts and a white t-shirt. He's one of several little tykes, waiting patiently in the wings to wow the crowd. The plan was to skip onto the stage, do a few forward rolls on the PE mats the teachers had laid out, fuck off into the other wings, turn round, and repeat three or four times. Yes, it was a fucking amazing plan.

Our public waited with bated breath.

Then young Spanky noticed the smell... and the look of complete misery on his best mate Terry's face.

Dont worry, the smell will pass, young Spanky told himself.

But the smell lingered and the look of desperation on Terry's face grew, became like stone. The boy was utterly, utterly crestfallen.

"Whats happened," squeaked young Spanky, noticing the teacher was rounding up the troupe of six year old acrobats, ready to push them out towards their adoring public and undoubted world domination in the field of forward rolls.

"I pooed meself..." Said Terry. "I can feel it in me pants."

Young Spanky checked out his mate's shorts, sure enough there was a bulge. The smell was gaining momentum, intensifying in the hot hall air.

Young Spanky had a brainwave.

"Push it down into your shoe. No one will notice."

And Terry did just that, he reached his hand down the back of his pants and wrestled with the clutch of warm nuggets he had stashed there, forcing them down his scrawny pale legs, into his white gym sock, past his anklebone, finally to rest as a squidgy brown paste in his bright white trainer. Terry flicked his foot out a bit to get comfy, to make sure the shit was evenly distributed under the sole of his foot, and we were ready to roll...

The teacher, Mis Facey, clapped and out we went. Nearly thirty of us in a line, skip, forward roll, stand, skip, another forward roll, and then off the other side of the stage to the waiting wings.

We were absolutely FUCKING MAGNIFICENT!

Then we turned and started heading out again. As we'd changed direction this time, Terry was in front.

I could tell he was struggling to hold his shit together... He was fidgeting and scratching, holding the hand that he'd used to shepherd the shit out to one side as if it was a useless claw.

But I also noticed his trainer was working loose and his sock, aided by extra stinky lubrication of sorts, was rolling down his ankle.

But there was nothing I could do. We were off again. Skip, forward roll, stand, forward roll... and into the wings. Phewww! Made it!

And then we turned for a third pass. The crowd was literally silent. You couldnt hear a fucking pin drop. They must've been stunned by the excellent aerobic display. It was the only plausible explination.

This time Terry was behind me. I did my forward roll, and glanced back to make sure Terry was in formation. I was absolutely convinced we'd all be international forward roll stars.

And that's when it happened...

Terry's squidgy shitty foot gave way as he went into his roll, the slippery, liquified mashed up shit working like superlube on his sock and trainer. As he came out of the roll his trainer and sock shot off in a shower of shit droplets...

...and...

...sailed...

...in a HUGE fucking arc...

...into...

...the audience...
( SpankyHanky, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 1:26, 2 replies)

A Sad Day For Most
It was a hot summers day in J2, Year 4 or whatever they call it these days. Darren, Carl, Rhys and I, were sitting at our round table. It is important for you to know that Darren was the "hardest" in the class, a title which is always respected by children at such a young age. Not only that, but Darren was the hardest in the entire school, meaning that the two year groups above us could not produce a possible contender to fight the mighty Darren and live to tell the tale. It is rare to find a boy of such power, I can only imagine it was a gift from God to make up for Darren's below par brain.

Whilst we chatted, the conversation slowly turned to blow jobs and other things of that nature, as it often did. It is also important for you to know that Carl was the weakest boy in the class, a title which brought terrible consequences. Out of nowhere, Darren came up with an idea "I want a blow job". I imagine that I replied with something along the lines of "Don't we all Darren, don't we all" and went back to my work.

The conversation moved on from blow jobs, and onto something less sexual, probably cars. Minutes later, Darren spoke again "I want a blow job. Carl, give me a blow job". We all laughed, all except for Darren, who had an air of seriousness about him that was not often seen. "Carl, suck my fucking cock" said Darren with real meaning and passion.
"No " said Carl "don't be gay".
"Fucking do it, Carl" replied Darren. Carl looked at him and then looked at me as if to say: "Come on, Anthony, sort him out, he's being ridiculous."

There was nothing I could do, after all, Darren was the hardest boy in the school. And so it went, Carl got under the table to meet Darrens already bare cock and began to suck. It was a horrible sight, one which me and Rhys, and of course Carl, will never forget.

Suddenly, Rhys got an idea: "Carl, suck my fucking cock", he yelped, and so, Carl did, seeing as he was already down there, but not for long, for Darren once again uttered the infamous words "Carl, suck my fucking cock". Happy with what he got, Rhys did not complain, knowing that he could not challenge Darren the alpha male.

Personally, I did not want a young boy sucking my cock, so I did not ask, but I did gather the rest of the class, who all crowded around the table. The teacher, Mr Edwards, saw what was happening and came over to the table and shouted at Darren. That was it, no punishment, no "go to the headmaster's office" no suspension, just a "Stop it". The bell rang and we all went to lunch.
(sadbearhandbook, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 1:19, 4 replies)

Eye eye
In Biology during Year 10, we were doing an eye dissection. One of my friends thought it fit to lob a lump of it about the room, and he promptly discovered that if you threw it at a window it slithered down slowly. He decided to throw it at the ceiling next. I believe most of it's still stuck up there now - 3 years later.

Also this:
In Year 7, I managed to knock out a friend's filling with my sports bag. I promptly received a lengthy torrent of rage from the deputy head. This torrent included the comment that I would never go to Oxford. A few weeks ago I received a letter from Oxford. Saying that I had an offer. Yay!
(noodle_6491, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 0:53, 8 replies)

Evil ittle shits.
That was the phrase the Head used to us one day. We were top stream fifth (year 11). We knew it all. If we didn't like a lesson, we would fuck about en masse. We would put hard core porn in the register when Sister Helen took names. We would bring squirrels in to class. We would flick lighted matches when the teachers back was turned.

One day the head gave us a lecture. He did not mince words. We listened in fear and fascination. He called us hellspawn little bastards. One guy, who had told to move seats the previous week hadn't bothered. The Head asked him why not. He replied in pure bogtrotter: "Ah, farrtherr, I couldn't be arsed".

Wrong. At that point, the Head snapped. When he had finished kicking him out from under the desk, he used his fists. When it became obvious that death might be a possibility, he used his belt. 3 minutes of Oldboy level violence.

You could do things like that in the 70s in private education.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Sun 1 Feb 2009, 0:21, Reply)

School Pregnancies.
.
When I was in comprehensive school in the early to mid 70's it was a more innocent era. Out of a school of 1200 pupils I can only recall 1, I'll repeat that, *1* girl getting pregnant in the whole of my schooldays.

Still, we made up for it as one 6th former got one of the female PE teachers up the duff.

Now *that* was a scandal......


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 23:35, 1 reply)

Last one. Romance.
I was a bit geeky at school. (Gee, really?) My romantic entanglements tended to be quantum in nature - i.e. they happened at a distance and were undetectable to outside observers, especially the target of my affections.

I remember one time I had a crush on someone in the year above. After many months agonizing, I approached her and asked if she wanted a screw.

Now, I had a backup plan - when (not if) she said no, I would take a screw out of my pocket, say "Pity, it's a nice one" and beat a retreat.

She said yes.

Fzzzt. My entire prefrontal cortex fuses and I resort to plan B anyway, handing her the screw and beating a hasty retreat.

So, on the minuscule chance that Amanda is a B3tan, if it's any consolation, I've felt dumb about this for 20+ years. And now I'm airing it on B3ta, confirming the fact that I am irrepressably geeky.
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 23:35, 3 replies)