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This is a question School Days

"The best years of our lives," somebody lied. Tell us the funniest thing that ever happened at school.

(, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 12:19)
Pages: Latest, 25, 24, 23, 22, 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Not technically
IN school, but skidging school, or playing truant as it's also known as.

My pal lived in a nice detached house above a recently built Barrat housing estate....the estate played host to various kids, but one in particular...Lorraine, was a total bike, albiet a sensible bike, as she wouldn't let us fuck her, well, not without a johnny anyway.

We would go up the hills, or even into his garage and Lorraine would let us suck her tits, poke her and she would make a gallant effort at wanking us off. She had a curious odour, like flaked goldfish food and pet shops...as i got older i recognised the smell as stale sweat...But hey, who gives a fuck, eh lads ;-)... She would always have us two at a time, while the other/s stood about and joked. She was very unwilling to suck any of us off, and this led me to believe that someone has spunked in her mouth previously, and she hadn't liked it. Probably her dad.

Anyways, this pal, who lived in the detached house, his parents would go to work early doors and not come back till after 6. So we hit upon the idea of skidging school and taking Lorraine up with us, so we could take advantage of her all day, in the comfort of a house. Lovely. Needless to say she was more than willing. To get to his place you had to walk up a lonely single track road that led to his house and one other. A tall red headed freak of a girl lived in the other house and was in my class. As we walked up the hill, Lorraine in tow, we had forgotten about the tall freak and how she would get a lift to school in her parents horrible 'Space Cruiser'. Our timing was such that halfway up the hill, the Space Cruiser, cruised past, and the gasps from the occupants were audible as they rubbernecked past us....

We knew it would be all over the school by first break, but pressed on with the days entertainment regardless. The highlight may have been as me and my pal lay on either side of here, as she 'skied' her way to victory, while my other pal sat and played chuckie egg on the bbc.

On going back to school the next day, everyone was aware of what happened and while we had accolades, she had abuse. The way of the world i suppose, i felt sorry for her, but couldn't really change the narrowminded view of my fellow pupils. One of my pals however hated the association with this slutty ginger bird, and didn't take too well to some other horror bag following him around screaming that he 'fucked that ginger bitch', so much so, he actually punched her in the face. She fell, he got suspended.

I dont think she blamed us neither as later that week we met up with her as we came home from school. We went down by a babbling brook and took turns at fingering her bright ginger fanny. I got more adventurous and slipped two fingers in successfully. When it was my friends turn i suggested he also try the 2 finger technique. After a bit of struggling, with her standing there impassively, he admitted defeat and withdrew his fingers, only to find a blob of orangey shit all over his fingers..He had been trying to poke her bumhole!

Lucky we were beside the stream and he was able to wash the shame away.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:49, Reply)
Too clever for my own good
The rule at school for most of my time there was that schoolbooks had to be carried in a briefcase. Sports bags were acceptable for sports kit, but books had to travel to and from school in a hard leather box, meaning that on days with PE, I had to struggle to school with both a case and a bag. I thought this was ridiculous, and though some of the teachers agreed with me and would be lenient about it, my maths teacher was strict to the point of apoplexy. I'll never forget the day I swung into his lesson with my sports bag over my shoulder and not a briefcase to be seen. His face turned purple and he just shouted "OUT!" pointing at the door. I shrugged, walked out and stood in the corridor where I was accosted by the deputy head shortly afterwards, demanding to know why I wasn't in my lesson.

I said that I had been sent out without explanation. He marched me back in and consulted with the maths teacher who told him I had been sent out for flagrantly disregarding the school rule that I had to bring my books to the lesson in a briefcase. The look on his face when I unzipped my bag and produced a small but perfectly formed briefcase containing my maths books was priceless. He stammered and spluttered but he knew I'd made him look a tit in front of the deputy head and the class. Of course the upshot of this was that both he and the deputy head hated me for the remainder of my time there, but it was so worth it.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:48, Reply)
My school had a sweet girl with the nickname pixie
She made sandcastles in the longjump pit.

(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:47, 4 replies)
School Prank goes horribly wrong
At the time the incident I shall recount to you seemed hilarious, but on reflection I can see what an error of judgement it was on the part of the school.

We were sitting in our routine friday morning assembly and the headmaster was rambling on. All of a sudden several ropes dropped from the ceiling and men in balaclavas in full army gear and with weapons draped across their shoulders abseiled down into the hall. The doors were kicked open and several more army clad men stormed into the room and onto the stage. One of them started to bark at the pupils and teachers to stay seated as the school was being taken hostage. At this stage the hall had about 20 fully clothed army commandos dotted around it.

One of the men then walked to the front, took off his balaclava and it soon became apparent that he was one of the senior kids in the school and this was all a prank and the teachers were in on it too. I don't recall the exact reason it happened, but anyway that's not important. The whole thing had been entirely authentic up to that point and I must admit I was taken in by it all - everyone was. We had shooting as a school sport so they had borrowed some guns for this little episode to make them look truly menacing.

Now to put this into context as to why this was truly such a horrendous idea you have to remember this happened in 1993. It was post apartheid South Africa and there were all sorts of incidents happening all over the country. Only the 2 weeks before the church where a lot of fellow school mates went was attacked with grenades and AK47's - that event is now known as the St James Church Massacre.

At the time most of the school thought it was truly one of the most hilarious events to ever happen. The fact that the kid in front of me pissed himself was the icing on the cake. Well at that time it was, but its only later on in life that you realise how truly awful it must have been for him because only 2 weeks before that he was one of the people sitting in the church.

Apologies for the lack of funny. Well it was in 1993, ok?
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:46, Reply)
On the last day of school
Stuart G decided he was going to show them all! He was going to gather all of us 6th years together outside the school, and burn his tie, as a demonstration against uniforms, from which we were about to be liberated.

All was going well, he had his bic lighter held out, his tie ready, and his clique were all holding their cameras aloft in preparation. Flame met tie, and much hilarity ensued, as the flame immediately went out, not even singing the aforementioned tie.

My friend Ruth spoiled the occasion further by remarking 'you do know it says 'flame retardent' on the back of our ties?'.

I believe he is a policeman now.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:34, Reply)
Fun with gas
Being a trustee inmate at my Secondary Modern, we were allowed to do extra metalwork at lunchtime. We made little steam engines which we proceeded to run with the gas torches, rather than the puny spirit lamps we were supposed to make.

Little arsonists that we were, and Mr Beer trusting us. we tended to have gas gun fights, only just avoiding setting fire each other. Firing the gun at full tilt into the lid of a dustbin always looked spectacular.

One day we were were bored so Roy stuck his head in a tea chest previously filled with gas... it went woomph when we lit it, and he pulled his head out pretty sharpish. We pissed ourselves as, and I apologise in advance to everyone, this golliwog looked around the room. Having reomoved his specs, he looked like a panda. We never did it again, and we remained innocent in the eyes of the staff. The strange thing is, I think Roy suggested it.

Cherry Popped.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:26, 1 reply)
not very interesting
Only thing I can think of is when I was 14 in maths, and someone did that old "Next to person to talk's GAY!" and the teacher said "yes" and smiled.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:23, 1 reply)
We had a physics teacher by the name of Corky. Or more properly C-c-c-c-corky thanks to his impressive stutter. He was a mean old bastard but very funny.

One day he decided to demonstrate radiation. He asked one of the many class geeks (of which I too was one) to hold a Geiger counter and stand in front of a gamma radiation source.

The worried lad asked:"But won't that make me sterile."

Came the answer: "In your c-c-c-case, Andrew, I d-d-d-don'think it'll m-m-m-m-matter."

Happy days.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:05, Reply)
temper temper
when i was in year 11 my class had 2 chemistry teachers.
one of them was great. he was new to teaching and was a good laugh as well as managing to actually teach us things.

the second was a bitch. we assumed she was going through the change since the slightest thing would set her off.

one day we were supposed to be doing practice test papers. she was explaining what we had to do while one or two people were chatting.

all of a sudden she started shouting about how we didn't appreciate her teaching us and how she could just leave right now if she wanted to.
The next minute she grabbed the test papers off the desk and threw them on the floor while shouting "THAT'S IT I'VE HAD ENOUGH!!"
she had our attention.
we were all sat silently,
slightly stunned at the out burst.

then one of the lads put his hand up.
"yes?" she asked, having calmed down a little.
"you're gonna have to pick them aaaaaaaallll back up again now"

i've never heard a door slam as loud.

(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 13:00, Reply)
Irritating RE teacher
She looked like yoda and was rather incongruously an atheist. She was a bag of nerves and would vent her frustration at not really being able to connect with people into bizarre disciplinary procedures for the slightest misdemeanor. She was also incredibly boring. Universally hated.

One day my brother and a mate were being taught cookery by her in a general studies lesson. They made a chilli con carne, with a secret ingredient - 10 grams of hashish. Of course she got to try it first, and when she enjoyed it, she was encouraged to finish the whole thing.

Now this is a pretty serious offense - spiking a teacher's food with psychedelics. I in no way endorse such activity. It's a wonder they got away with it. But the fact remains all that happened was she was off "sick" the next day and nothing was said about it. We still speculate on the sort of scary RE lesson she could have been having in her head by the evening and how the hell she managed to drive home?
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 12:49, 14 replies)
This must have happened in fourth or fifth year chemistry. The class was doing an experiment which involved the use of a very large glass bowl. The teacher took great pains at the start of the lesson to tell us how expensive this glass bowl was. £200, if memory serves. If anyone was to break it they (or more probably their parents) would be paying for it.

The experiment concluded, it was time to put The Great Glass Bowl back in its hallowed cupboard. For some reason which escapes me the teacher decided to ask a student to carry THE BIG, EXPENSIVE GLASS BOWL to the cupboard. Hey! Guess what? He chose me.

I knew I was going to drop it. I knew it. The second he called my name I knew it was going to end up in pieces on the floor.

So it did not come as a total shock when, after a few steps, the bowl slipped from my damp hands and smashed into a million tiny pieces, which bounced all over the place.

Luckily my parents and I were not asked to cover the cost of replacing it. Largely, I think, because the chemistry teacher realised that it was probably not the most intelligent move to entrust £200 worth of glass to a nervous oaf such as myself.

Possibly half-a-dozen times a year I see myself carrying that bowl. I see me struggling with it and I see it slipping from my grasp, and I see it smashing on the floor. And I cringe.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 12:39, Reply)
GCSE chemistry is as dull as ditchwater. You've got a class full of budding young pyromaniacs, terrorists and druggists, and most of the syllabus involves 'fun' things to do with copper sulphate and iron wool.

The only real high point as far as the kiddies are concerned is the redox reaction that is THERMITE! Every class will have heard about this fun experiment from the years above and will be begging to try it out the moment they walk though the doors of their first lesson. I've no idea if schools are still allowed to demonstrate the fun that is thermite, or if they just show a video or two from youtube, but when I were a lad, my school decided to do something different for our demo.

Rather than have the various science teachers do individual demos before a class of 30 or so, it was decided to do one big demo for the whole year. Thermite day arrives and we are led out onto the back field. The rather damp and muddy back field.

The thermite is set up in an old clay flowerpot on top of a couple of blocks on a patch of sand on mud. A hundred or so youngsters watch as the magnesium strip poked in the pot is lit and the teacher runs away from the proto-inferno. A few seconds later and the scene whites out. Vision returns and we can see flames & smoke & sparks. The pyromaniacs and terrorists are making comprehensive notes, the druggists are wondering if this gets them any closer to making E from the content of their bathroom cabinet.

The reaction dies down and the cheering starts. Then the flower pot cracks spewing bright orange molten iron all over the bricks and sand and OH-FUCK! mud!

There is a bang. Nope, there is a loud BANG. Or even a *FUCKING LOUD BANG* followed by a lot of small sizzles.

The hot iron hitting the damp mud made a steam explosion which scattered iron, bricks, pot and thermite. All sizzling and steaming where it landed.

It is as close a thing to a miracle as an atheist like me can believe, not a single person was hurt.

The school returned to small individual demos after that.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 12:27, 2 replies)
Sixth form.
As part of a drama project the six formers at my school were given access to a video camera to produce a film. Now, usually this would be fine except for the fact that the camera was given to five boys. who immediately decided to produce and star in a "porn movie".... what followed was a 5 minute film involving the boys waving their cocks around and tom-foolery about. It was only when the head (no pun intended ) of drama discovered it on tape that things started to go wrong. Not only did they have to explain the whole thing to their drama teacher, the head of year (female) and the schools headmaster but their parents were treated to a private viewing of the masterpiece. Outstanding. (pun intended)
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 12:21, Reply)
First year sex ed
Two memories stand out from that rather confused and unsettling time.

Firstly, I vaguely remember a discussion about semen, which ended in hilarity when Matthew Buttery, not the brightest penny in the jar, said "Oh, is that the white stuff that smells a bit like bleach?"

Secondly, the science teacher was talking to my group. Our science teacher was a rather buxum young lady who I'm sure inspired more than one boy's nocturnal merry-making. She was talking about how the female body developes, and asked my friend Rowena about the changes that occur at puberty.

Rowena was struggling with embarassment so the teacher said "Well, for instance, Rowena, what's the difference between me and you?" Rowena falteringly replied "erm, well, miss, you've got . . . b . . . breasts."

Possibly not the nicest thing to do to an insecure 12 year old with a chest like two peas on a cutting board.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 12:19, Reply)
Being a twat
Back in the days of GCSE Chemistry, me and a good friend made a terrible, shocking discovery. The little sticks of wood used to light Bunsen burners (amongst other things) *burned*!

Of course, the next thing to do was to get several handfulls of them, and to make a bonfire on the desk. This was large, fiery, and smoky, so obviously the teacher noticed. She ran over, threw a fire blanket over it and told us off. Of course, being petulant little shits, we immediately relit it. Causing her to come running back over, to put a permanent end to proceedings with a beaker of water.

Or so she thought. Through the acquisition of fresh fuel, and the hot end of a Bunsen, we got it burning again. As the room began to fill with smoke, the teacher once again realised what was going on. And put a stop to it.

By throwing a full bucket of water over the desk, myself, and my friend.

It worked, and there is no doubt that we thoroughly deserved it.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 12:14, Reply)
The first week of Sixth Form.
Someone decided it would be a great idea to set off two fireworks in the canteen one lunchtime. I was in a different building at the time, but within about 5 minutes the whole college knew about the drama and it was the only thing anyone wanted to talk about while we waited outside our form for afternoon registration.

My newly made friend Adam was saying he wished he'd been there as it was probably the most exciting thing to happen in that college for a long time. "Trust me mate, it wasn't pretty." Our new tutor Derek informed us as he unlocked the classroom door. "The downsy kids thought the fucking world was ending. I think one of them even pissed himself."

Derek was and always will be my favourite teacher.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 12:07, 2 replies)
Ahh, Fred
I've written a couple of stories about my friend "Fred". This one occured when we were wee lads in first year. (Year 7 to you young scallywags.)

At our school was an older boy called John Steele. His name was legend. His name inspired fear in the hardest kids. Rumours abounded about what he got up to outside school. Nicking cars, stealing, drugs. And he was huge. Imagine a WWF wrestler squeezed into a school uniform and you'll get the picture.

Just to underscore how unbelievably hard and grown-up he was he had a moustache. Well, I say moustache, he had bad teenager bum-fluff clinging optimistically to his upper lip. In fact, that was his nickname: bum-fluff, which you would whisper amongst yourselves then look furtively about in case he or any of his minions were within earshot.

Anyway. One fine day myself and Fred were walking towards the PE department. We passed Bum-fluff on the way down, enduring his sneers and those of his equally huge friend. We had just reached the PE room door when Fred stopped, turned and shouted "OYY! BUM-FLUFF!" at the top of his voice.

I stood there stunned. Slowly I turned to look at Steele. He was standing looking at us with an expression of bemusment. Obviously no-one (certainly not two runty first years) had ever had the temerity to shout his hated nickname at him. He frowned and turned to his companion, who was equally puzzled. They had a short, calm conversation. Then they legged it at full speed down the path towards us.

"Shiiiit!". We dashed into the PE department where we attempted to hide. Luckily for us, Steele was obviously in an indulgent mood and held our collars in his meaty hands as he patiently lectured us on the folly of youthful impertinence. Then, with a quick clip round the back of the head, he left us to it.

John Steele, AKA "Bum-fluff". What a legend.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:55, Reply)
Primary School football team
For away matches, we used to accomodate our entire squad - 11 players plus 3 subs - and 2 drivers in an Austin Allegro and a Citroen Visa.

How the frig did that work? :-/

I don't think they'd get away with that these days.....
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:53, Reply)
Experimental onanism
Communal showers after games are one of the facts of school life for most, I guess, and although there may be some shyness at first, most people get used to the idea quickly enough and just get on with it.

I doubt, however, that many people get so comfortable with it that they would use an openly visible shower in a busy changing room to experiment with different masturbatory techniques. Unfortunately one such boy at my school - let's call him Nick (for, in time-honoured tradition, that was his name) - did not share such reticence.

I've no idea to this day what made him think that it would be a good idea to stimulate his dick by placing it between his hands, and rubbing them together like he'd forgotten to wear gloves on a visit to the North Pole. Perhaps he was trying to see if it shared the same consistency as plasticine.

Unfortunately for Nick, however, regardless of the consistency of his organ, he'd neglected to take account of the vessels that allowed its very tumescence. In performing this act he managed to rupture one of the said penile blood vessels, resulting in a suddenly much redder form of liquid coming from his own head than the water coming from the shower head.

And if there's one thing more embarrassing for a 12-year-old boy than having this happen in front of his peers, it's having to go to matron to have it treated and explain how it happened.

Length? I think that was the least of his worries...
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:48, Reply)
Chess swat escapes assembly
In primary school I was something of a whizz at chess. As you can imagine, I was a real hit with the ladies.

I was our school's number 1 player, and once beat a rival school's number 1 in just 4 moves. That was a bloody long afternoon, as we had to sit in silence while the other players played out their matches.

Anyway, onwards towards my point. Our chess teacher was a really nice guy - too nice for teaching in fact, as he was jacking it all in to train to be a Church of Scotland minister.

By sheer coincidence, on his last day as a teacher there was a school assembly. These were interminably dull affairs with much sitting cross-legged on a hard floor and singing the most pointless songs imaginable for hours on end.

Imagine my delight when my chess teacher asked my class teacher if I could be excused from assembly so that he could play me one final game? Needless to say, he hammered me in the customary fashion, but it was worth it to get out of the snoozefest of an assembly.

Many many years later, I bumped into him. He's now a fully-fledged minister. He remembered me and we chatted about old times. It turns out that he couldn't stand assemblies either, hence his brainwave for getting us both out of it. What a smashing bloke.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:46, 1 reply)
Just remembered this one.

Lots of the weedy, fat and lazy kids used to bring notes to the PE teacher, written by their parents, explaining why their precious couldn't do PE. The PE teacher would generally read them, grimace, and then nod for them to sit down on the bench.

Until this one day.

Tony walked up to PE teacher and handed him his parents sealed envelope. Teacher opened it, did a double take, and then started laughing. Then he read it out.

"Dear Mr Simmons

Please excuse Tony from PE as he's a lazy bastard"

(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:42, Reply)
The school play…

Further to this post

…After the class photos were taken, it was time to cast for the school play.

Their usual casting policy was to hand out the meatiest role to the biggest show-off with the least amount of shame in the school.

Suffice to say, I was always the ‘star’ turd turn.

The theme that year was going to be the simple story of ‘life on a farm’…and I was playing the farmer. Farmer ‘Giles’ in fact (who said teachers don’t have a sense of humour?).

Come dress rehearsal time – There I was…with my lines all learned, my funny hat in place, my cheeks reddened and a piece of straw firmly wedged in my mouth. I was beginning to ‘become’ the part in a way that would make De Niro himself want to quit the profession in a jealous rage and take up stamp collecting or something.

The only thing that was missing from my masterpiece of an ensemble was the traditional ‘smock’

Which they didn’t have.

So they used a regular.brown.dress as a substitute.

“I’m not fucking well wearing that” I squawked at the teachers: “That’s for girlies…Euuuuurrrgh!”

The fight I put up to get out of wearing the outfit became the stuff of legend. Many of my existing ‘cross-dress-a-phobic’ tendancies were born that day.

The only compromise that could be reached was when the teachers placed an old sack over the top of my dress for added ‘Farmer’ effect (I don’t know either)

Eventually, the big night arrived, and I was pushed out of the wings, with a face like a smacked arse…to the obligatory derisory howls from the audience.

However, I didn’t even have to time to feel the shame about my appearance…because as soon as I stood on the stage I tripped on the hem of the dress and fell onto the back of one of the ‘sheep’ (admirably played by the little ginger girl in the photo).

(My brother explained to me later) that my attempts to clamber to my feet merely accentuated the effect of it looking like I was trying to get my ‘leg over’ the poor flattened girl / sheep hybrid…and we ended up rolling around on the floor together like a pre-pubescent Amsterdam stage act.

The teachers began to appeal for calm through tear-strewn faces as riotous laughter began to break out.

As anarchy reigned, the other sheep and some cows stopped waving to their parents and started joining in with me because they thought that the ‘rolling around on the floor’ game looked like fun.

In the end they had to call a halt to the proceedings and start again after a 20 minute recess.

I believe some of the seats had to be wiped down after witnessing that performance.

Suffice to say, I was asked to be in the choir the year after that...Wearing another fucking dress. But the joke was on them, because I contracted German measles and missed the whole thing….HA!
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:42, Reply)
My dear old mum
My mum was a teacher in some seriously rough schools in north Liverpool in the late 80's - early 00's.

Rough like - the first school she taught in, where two kids got suspended for fighting, so nicked a couple of hammers from the woodwork lab and took them to the deputy-head's skull. He never worked again.

Most of the kids she taught were, in her words, "thick as pigshit, with the ambition of housebricks". She mostly blamed the parents.

She constatntly battled with the disruptive fuckers, who thought it was hillarious to chuck stuff at her when she was writing on the board. When she told the little bastards that they'd spend the rtest of their lives on the dole, they just look confused, like there was any other option.

Nice places, they were.

However, the kids who actually wanted to study, she would go out of her way to help. She even did a little bit of fiddling with the classes in her year group, so there was one class that was almost entirely populated with those who actually wanted to be there.

She was teaching this class one day and the one that had slipped through the ambition net was playing up as normal, doing everything he could to stop my mum from teaching and the other kids from learning. My mum lost her rag and told him to get out of the classroom.

He walked up to her, stuck two fingers up in her face and said "fuck off you sad old bitch!". My mum did exactly what she'd do if I told her to fuck off, she slapped him hard enough to knock him on his arse and said "I said get out".

Kid stands up and starts yelling "that's assault! That's assault! I have you done!" then turns to the now silent class and says "you all saw!"

My mum's career flashed past her eyes, then one kid calmly said "we didn't see shit! Sorry, miss! We didn't see anything!"

Mum kept her job, kid never said a damn word to her again.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:40, 2 replies)
How not to get out of PE
To say I wasn't popular at school is to indulge in the most extreme form of understatement. I was spotty and greasy. I was clever. I was quiet. School is hell for those of us who don't want to arse about and just want to get through it with the minimum of fuss.

PE was the worst. I couldn't kick. I couldn't throw. I couldn't catch. I was hopeless. During rugby (which we played in all weathers) I used to always try to stay just ahead of the ball so that it would never be passed to me. I remember one time I failed in my ploy to stay away from the ball and someone unaccountably lobbed it at me. I caught it and with a look of stunned horror realised that Kelvin Bach, the 6-foot-three brick shithouse, was bearing down upon my skinny frame. That was the last time I ever held a rugby ball, let me tell you.

Of course I was always picked last. And I mean last. The weirdos who spent all match standing on the sidelines picking their noses and playing with themselves were picked before me. You know, every day I wake up and give thanks that as long as I live no-one is ever going to tell me to put shorts on and run around after a ball on a cold winter's day. Thankyou, Lord, thankyou, thankyou.

Anyway, that rather long preamble brings us to the point of my tale. It was a normal PE lesson and we were in the changing rooms getting ready. I was aware that there was a guy going around waving a piece of paper in front of people and being met with furrowed brows and shaking heads. It was Gareth, by no means one of the worst, but certainly someone who'd given me his fair share of grief.

Eventually Gareth stopped asking the mono-browed mouth-breathers and came over to me.

"Oy, Mr C, you twat," he said, kindly. "You're a clever bastard, tell me what this says. My mum has written that I can't do PE because I have hemmoroids. What the fuck does that mean?"

Well. Well, well. It's not everyday that life hands you such a nice gift, is it? Making sure that everyone was watching, I smiled at him and, in my loudest voice, said: "PILES!"

His face crumbled at the laughter of his peers. That was possibly my finest moment at school.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:28, Reply)
Another (shorter) one from 6th year Physics
The head of department was taking us for a class.

He was writing some formulae on the board, and we were dutifully copying them down into our folders.

As the work continued down the board, I felt obliged to ask a question regarding his derivations.

"Sir, I can see how you get from the 2nd line to the 3rd line, but how do you derive the 4th line from the 3rd?"

He fixed me with a stare that would melt carbon.

"Because it says so in my notes", he explained.

Well that explains that then. And they wondered why we weren't interested....
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:24, Reply)
Sixth year physics...
There was only half a dozen of us in Frank's class. We'd all received unconditional offers from Uni, so we were not exactly what you would call a motivated bunch of kids. He certainly had his work cut out sustaining our interest in a terminally boring subject.

We showed up for one lesson and Frank was nowhere to be seen. Probably running late chatting up the damn hot lab technician whose name now escapes me but whose jugs are forever etched into my mental wank bank.

We decided to play a wee jape on Frank. He could take it - he liked to think of himself as one of the boys. It would be fine. We would just hide for a couple of minutes, let him sweat for a bit, and then reveal ourselves. Damn funny - or so it seemed at the time.

The class was split into 2 distinct areas - the main teaching area and the electronics lab area. The two areas were divided by a row of equipment cupboards.

Wouldn't it be a jolly jape to hide round in the lab area? What fun. We went round and sat on the high lab stools which meant that he wouldn't be able to see our feet should he take a quick squint under the cupboards.

He duly arrived, 5 minutes late for class. We could hear the sigh and the tutting as he realised that we had not shown up for class.

"Lazy bastards" we heard him mutter to himself as he sat down and started to mark some coursework. We stifled our giggling as best we could.

An enormous fart thundered from within Frank's off-white lab coat and through the lab like an oncoming rumble of thunder. Wee Jeff nearly fell off his stool as we frantically clasped hands to mouths to prevent the escape of our howls of delight.

Another Physics teacher entered the room.

"Hey Frank, I thought you had the 6th years now?", she enquired.

"I do, but the lazy wee bastards haven't shown. They think this is a fucking holiday camp. I am not fucking happy."

The teacher left. We figured that Frank was perhaps not in a good mood for wee jape, so we had to sit in the lab area, for another 45 minutes, in complete silence - with only Frank's thunderous farts for company for the remainder of the lesson.

Perhaps the joke was on us?
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:18, Reply)
Sportsman's double...
There was never a huge amount of scandal in my school. Well, unless you count the music teacher having a blatant affair with the headmaster (that one actually made into the Daily Mail!). So when my best friend approached me with a look of scandalized horror on her face quite a few years after we left, I wasn’t expecting much.

A girl in her older sister’s year had, unbeknownst to anyone, had a real thing for our history teacher. A common enough occurrence, save for the fact that the teacher in question was in his early 50’s (she had just turned 16) and looked like a cross between Captain Pugwash and a kiddy fiddler. She had sent him a Valentine’s card, which on receiving, he’d spoken to her about and said that while he was flattered, it was inappropriate for him to have a relationship with one of his students. Fast forward to the summer after her O levels and suddenly, he’s no longer her teacher and they embark on a full blown relationship. Now I’m not one to judge *pauses for gales of hysterical laughter* and you can’t help who you fall in love with, but I think we all found this a bit odd. But, sometimes these things just work and a couple of years later, they got married.

“Well,” I mused, on hearing this, “who would have thought this would happen in my tiny village school.” But no, this wasn’t the end of it. The relationship had gone along nicely for a while until eventually it began to sour. Rumor had it that he’d met someone else and they were going to split up. And indeed they did; soon after, he remarried.

Her Mother.

Now if that’s not an episode of Jeremy Kyle…
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 11:02, 4 replies)
Field trips
I used to really enjoy school and had a passion for science, so much so that I got along with all the science staff at the school, got to go out on the best field trips and even got to met a few people in industry because of my potential.

I managed to blag a trip to a local R and D place one day with a few other students and they were talking about various dangers and research into radiation. It was massively interesting and we were shown various applications of radiation and also the dangers. We were then taken into a lab and shown what can occur to living things when radiation affects them. This was demonstrated with various insects (no mammals and the like though) and the mutations that can occur (there were also medical pictures from Chernobyl which was quite cool).

It was going fine till the spider escaped and bit me.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 10:59, Reply)
Drama, Drama ! ! !

I was called a lesbian for a year and often had the hard kids accusing me of supping the furry cup... which was just plain confusing...

The reason?

I took drama at GCSE.

It was a nice skive after PE and gave my poor weary mind and body a chance to recover in a nice warm room.

A year into Drama, my mate Dave and I were alarmed to learn we were actually going to be graded on our acting ability.

We were asked to choose a passage from literature, convert it into a short scene, and perform the fucker a la Marlon Brando for the drama teacher, Miss Gainey.

We cobbled something together and ended up on stage infront of the class and the amazingly attractive Miss Gainey.

We got part way through before Miss Gainey stopped us and said: "What's the source material for this???"

She stopped us just after Dave said, in his best baritone:

"If this is a consular ship, where is the ambassador? — Commander, tear this ship apart until you’ve found those plans. And bring me the passengers, I want them alive!"
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 10:40, 2 replies)
Legless reminds me...
English A-level class. Chaucer. M, hitherto not noted for his dazzling scholarship, was asked to summarise the Reeve's tale.

He didn't blink.

"Students go for their grain and get their oats, sir."

It's still the best summary I've heard of any work of literature.
(, Tue 3 Feb 2009, 10:29, Reply)

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