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This is a question School Naughtiness

The B3ta Confessional is open. What was the naughtiest thing you ever did at school?

(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 12:55)
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This question is now closed.

in the school dark room.
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 4:05, 6 replies)
Remembered another one...sorry...
I'm a teacher. Don't hate me. Sat with my mate the school librarian eating our sandwiches keeping an eye on the empty library through the one way glass window. Small boy aged about 11 enters the library, furtively looks around, unzips his fly and proceeds to walk along the rows of books wiping his penis along the spines. Zips up, throws rucksack over shoulder and is gone before I have chance to put down my pasty and apprehend him.
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 1:52, 10 replies)
umm, let me make a list
1. Bridging a 3-pin socket with a paper clip in science class and shorting out the whole block whilst turning the paper clip into molten evil.
2. Barricading the door to the music practice room with an upright piano so the class bike could show 6 horny teenage boys her 'rat'.
3. Filling the school pool with 100+ orange flashing lights stolen from nearby roadworks.
4. Stealing all the door wedges from school, stealing the replacements made by the CDT department, then moving the next batch (labelled by the teachers as their own) between rooms leading to arguments amongst staff, and finally sending a ransom note with part of a door wedge and a picture of one with a gun to it's 'head' to the headmaster calling for freedom of doors to swing to and fro.
5. Replacing the 5 mph road signs with sheep road signs.
6. Making a crime scene complete with painted body outline and police tape in the headmasters parking space, then letting a first year, who was telling everyone he did it, take the blame.
7. Using a ouija board in history class and using to say that the teacher would be murdered, leading him to run out screaming, and whilst he was out, filling his filing cabinet with water and throwing the chairs out the window.

Etc etc. It's amazing I got any sort of education at all.
P.S. My school has since been demolished.
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 1:39, 3 replies)
Our head of sixth form was great
He spotted a group of us sneaking off across the fields to the pub to avoid the end of school assembly. "WHERE ARE YOU LOT GOING?" he bellowed. "The pub, sir" we replied. "WELL GET ON WITH IT THEN AND STOP CLUTTERING UP THE FIELD".
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 1:23, Reply)
Reading this QOTW
This is actually making me feel better about being a teacher...

...knowing what a boring, unimaginative bunch of twats pupils can be.
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 1:08, 2 replies)
And also - a tip to any young people, bring a screw driver to school on the
first day of new school year! Firstly because I hear schools are quite rough now and you may need to fend people off, but more importantly - and what I did many years ago - was to bunk off a lesson and on every corridor I could manage (2) reverse (or just muddle up) the room numbers.

It wouldn't have worked at any time other than first day of the new year, few people had prior knowledge of where they were meant to be. It was anarchy and I was never caught. Hooray!
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 0:45, 3 replies)
I hated school but I, as I still do now, enjoyed chaos. I'm afraid to say I was one of the
"goth kids" who hung around the art block smoking and looking moody and deep pretentious (I still look pretentious but I know now, that's better). One day the bigger and meaner children were kicking their footballs at us when one, out of many many flying highspeed footballs, didn't hit any of us in the face and instead cracked the window behind us.

We had fun peeling glass of the magical-saftey-glass-stickyness and then feigned ignorance (ha) when teachers came over to demand to know what had happened.

The next day.. actually the next day it was replaced with some boards. Ignore this bit.

A few days later it was replaced but it was different! It was made of plastic. It took about four minutes to realise it was possible to take a running leap at the window and pop it out of its frame. It made a fun noise and was a good test of bravery and skill: if you didn't hit it with enough force you'd just bounce back onto the horrible concrete, hit it with too much force and you'd concuss yourself on the corridor wall opposite. No - if you did it correctly, you'd coolly land, on both feet, in the hallway and all the girls would suddenly change their minds about you and your friends being weird.

This was all fine and we strangely never got caught, until the day we did get caught, and it wasn't as if someone just saw us do it - as much as they were on the other side of the window and were quite violently squashed against the wall by a pimply youth who had overestimated the "perfect speed to pop the window". Apparently it looked like when you press your face up to a window. I don't know why.
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 0:41, Reply)
Soggy biscuits...
Not QUITE on topic but naughty and in school..
In ALL schools there is an invisible line between the 'teachers' and the 'support staff' with the former regarding the latter as thicko skivvies and the latter regarding the former as middle class over paid ungrateful wankers. As a teacher but being a hard drinking working class potty mouth I am mates mostly with the secretarial staff but have a foot in both camps. Teachers are like students (tea, coffee and milk guarded with postit notes that may as well have said "I have a tiny cock") but the teaching staff had a tradition that on your birthday you filled the 'birthday biscuits' tin up to celebrate. Sue (office staff) came in the staff room to pin up a notice and helped herself to a 'birthday biscuit' The next day some anal retentive had put up a notice "Birthday biscuits are for teaching staff. Office staff have their own tin. Thank you" This was pretty much agreed as fair and not petty at all. A few moments later i received a mysterious text "DO NOT EAT THE STAFF ROOM BISCUITS". Sue would not elaborate but I resisted. TWO YEARS later when pissed up she confessed to me that she had smuggled the biscuit tin out of the staff room, inserted each biscuit into her vagina and then replaced it.
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 0:36, 7 replies)
It was in CDT (Craft, Design and Technology I think) that due to a very welcome lack of teacher supervision my friend Davey and I constructed our best weapons. On one occasion for me, this took the form of a throwing knife and for Davey, an elastic band crossbow.

We were itching to try our new weapons out but first we had to sit through English. The class was taking it in turns to read from a book and at one point it was the turn of class victim, Matthew, who was sitting opposite at our group of desks. Davey nudged me and indicated that he was holding his crossbow under the desk, elastic band pulled taught and loaded with a menacing looking, tightly folded paper projectile. He aim it under the desk at Matthews genitals and fired it when he was mid sentance. Matthew said something to the effect of:


The whole class looked at eachother in astonishment and puzzlement as Matthew went red in the face and tried to start reading again. Except for the two of us who were crying, trying not to laugh.
(, Fri 9 Sep 2011, 0:13, 2 replies)
On the subject of locking supply cupboards...
We had a new languages teacher in my school who was fresh from doing her teacher training in Germany. Now, I don't know if things are different in German schools, but her method tended to be a combination of repeating a scripted lesson and getting furious at my class, who had no interest in learning how to speak German at all.

She'd only been in my school for a month when she tried to give us the talk about the "Six secrets to speaking German." Unfortunately, due to her accent, she started the lesson off by saying, "Now listen, I have sex secrets..."

Cue instant attention from the class. "Really, miss?" "Ooh, tell us all about them miss!" Not realising she was being mocked, the teacher carried on, with every innocent comment about the throat muscles and exercising the voice box raising a chorus of nods. After a few minutes she caught on when one of the guys in my class stood up, sashayed over to her and said, "Oo miss, I have some sex secrets too, and I wanna tell you aallll about them."

She blinked, and without even speaking to him, dragged him off by the arm and locked him in the cupboard at the back of the room. Then she calmly returned to the front of the class and started handing out copy books. The rest of the lesson passed in silence, apart from the occasional THUD from the cupboard as our classmate tried to escape. After a while he gave up. Then the lesson ended, and we all went to lunch.

After lunch, in registration, our classmate was conspicuously absent. "Do you think he's been suspended?" We all asked each other. Nope- he was still locked in the cupboard. The teacher had forgotten that she'd locked him in, and gone off for her own lunch. He was rescued when the next class went in there, a good 3 hours after he was locked in.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 23:10, 3 replies)
We had an RE teacher. I don't know whether he'd really, seriously taken to heart the idea about turning the other cheek, but a class under his - well, I'd hesitate to call it control, more like gentle guidance and advice from the sidelines, really - could get away with anything.

So we locked him in his supply cupboard. Repeatedly. Stealing the keys, jamming a chair under the door, moving a bookshelf - it didn't matter what, gathering textbooks or important RE supplies was a voyage into peril for the hapless "sir".

For some reason he didn't seem to mind this. Maybe he just assumed being locked in the supply cupboard once or twice a lesson was an unavoidable consequence of being an RE teacher. Occasionally if we'd locked him in there for a particularly long time he might make us copy from a textbook for a bit rather than have a "fun" lesson, but I think of all the people I've known to be locked in cupboards his was the calmest acceptance of his plight.

Now, maybe there was some latent kind-heartedness in all of us evil pupils, because for our last lesson with him, knowing we'd most likely get a normal teacher next year, one who'd tell us off and that, one who might treat a session in the supply cupboard as instant class detention, we clubbed together to buy the shirt of his favourite football team; Brighton & Hove Albion.

To show his gratitude, he wanted to put it on. But it wouldn't really fit over his shirt and suit jacket. But that didn't matter, because his class offered the perfect solution.

"Why don't you go in the supply cupboard and get changed, sir?"
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 22:43, Reply)
Oh S**t!
While still in primary school and on a miserable day, some friends and I snuck back into the school building during lunch to get out of the cold.

We decided to play a game of hide and seek to pass the time. I deciding to kill two birds with one stone ran off to the loo to hide and take a much needed dump, which given the level of discomfort was most needed.

Having got sat down I realised the lock didn't work and fearing I might be found too early leaned forward to hold the door shut....
Unfortunately being still quite small this had the unwanted side affect of me sliding forward off the seat just as the bomb bay doors opened and I shit straight on the floor.

This left me with two choices, clean it up off the floor but (due to the broken lock) risk being caught by a friend and labelled as the kid who plays with poo or do a runner.

I of course did the later which led to a rather awkward assembly all about the importance of proper toilet usage.
Rumours ran wild about who the phantom toilet poo'er was, however my secret remained just that.... until now.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 22:07, 8 replies)
Should have remembered this one first...
...though it was collective.

Mr Morrison covered a CDT lesson, and was a proper upper class stammering twit who showed weakness and got punished.

He left the classroom to go to the toilet, and left the class keys. My mate Paul promptly got up and locked him out.
He came back, and, painfully, said "er boys, I seem to have jammed the door"

Paul shouted, in a fake voice "we have locked you out sir"

Mr Morrison went apoplectic, and started banging on the door, shouting. After two minutes, he said that he was going to get the deputy head, Mr Willett. My mate Daniel got the keys, stood on the table and hid them above a panel in the ceiling - this act saved us all, as it turned out.

Mr Willet turned up, opened the door with his master keys, and did a speech about being disappointed, and asking who was responsible. We all kept schtum.

Mr Morrison was still raging about his keys, which were also his house keys. Mr Willet demanded the culprit hand the keys over.

Paul said, to Mr Willet "sir, I'm not saying I'm involved, but if you both leave the room, if when you come back the keys are on the table, how about we all just let this go?"

Mr Morrison nearly exploded, but to my eternal astonishment Mr Willet sighed and said "very well. Two minutes" and almost dragged poor Mr Morrison out of the class.

Daniel got back up, got the keys down and put them on the desk, a minute later the teachers came back in, Mr Willet handed the keys to Mr Morrison, gave us all a disappointed look, and kept his word - none of us got any shit whatsoever for it.

Mr Morrison said "I refuse to teach any of you for the rest of the lesson. Do whatever you want, I don't care, you'll all end up in prison anyway" and read his paper for the next hour.

Sorry for length
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:58, 6 replies)
Dyed the school's olympic size pool purple with potassium permanganate stolen from the science labs
the tiles got stained; the pool got drained and retiled and the guilty ones were threatened with expulsion if we were caught.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:54, 2 replies)
More "last day" stuff
We danced in a conga line through the staffroom, before stealing every table, chair, potted plant and fixture and reassembling them on the school field. We did put it all back after though.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:49, 1 reply)
Backwards writing
My old science teacher used to always lean against the same desk, in exactly the same place, at the back of the class.

Me and my mate Peter had the idea of backwards writing in thick chalk on the edge of the desk that he would lean on, and we could not have hoped for it to work as well as it did, so every week for three years we managed to get a message printed onto his arse, starting with mature things like "I'm gay" or "I lilke little boys" but moving towards self referential "I am a message on your bum" to serialised "you will never catch us", over a five week period.

On our last day, Peter, me and a later recruit Vikesh confessed all and to be fair to him, he shook us by the hand and said he had taken it in good fun, but had had no idea how the fuck kids had managed to write on his arse without him noticing.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:45, Reply)
I got thrown out of flying school in Texas because I said I wasn't interested in learning how to take off or land.

(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:31, Reply)
i was having a relationship with my maths teacher
...and i smoked drugs and was the bestest at football.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:26, Reply)
I once got moved to the front in maths due to being a distraction
and after a few weeks of sitting next to a goth with nicely size mammaries, she polished my pork-tuba during the lesson whilst I explored her quivering mound of love-pudding. Luckily the wet patch doesn't show in black school trousers!
Thanks for the handage but i've temporarily forgotten your name, nice-boobed goth.
I'm such a slag.

edit: slag reduction - she was called Natalie!!
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:21, 31 replies)
I have a travel alarm clock which folds into a tiny box.
The best thing about it, is it sounded exactly like the school bell.

I took it in to school one day and set it 10 minutes before the end of each class. Every single teacher, apparently with no spatial perception, thought it was the real bell and let us out early.

The next day, all the teachers whose classes we were in had moved their clocks forward 10 minutes, thinking they were slow. Since we had classes on alternate days, this meant that the other half of the year had a lot less playtime, and we had a lot more, for two days. We also managed to get first in the tuck queue for both days.

And the next day, we got lynched.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:13, 4 replies)
Mad Murray Macrae & Hoppy Holmes
One winter we tipped Macrae over the edge. About 10 of us picked up his Mini and managed to 'place' it in the empty school pool. This event led to him being known as 'Mad Murray' for the rest of his career.

I feel the worst though for the french teacher Hoppy Holmes. He had a pronounced limp and a built up shoe. He was an old bastard too, he'd taught one of my friend's Mothers. The french class was in a prefab. Once I pulled the wooden steps out a few feet from the building, knocked, and hid in a bush watching. Poor bastard cripple fell down the gap... It was a bit like watching a kitten getting strangled. Shame. One Christmas we gave Hoppy a present covered in C**ts that we'd cut out of stick magazines to make up for our bad sportmanship.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 21:07, 1 reply)
I can't remember for the life of me what I took it in for but we were all asked for a full roll of loo roll (it may have been for art).

At lunch time my friend and I went to the lockers and mine was full so I took everything out of it to get to my bag at the back, got my purse and put everything back.. all except the loo roll which I had completely forgotten about and left on a radiator.

45 minutes later we return and the whole locker room had been TP'd and the lad who had done it told the year head it was me. I was dragged to his office and despite protesting my innocence with every ounce of blood sweat and tears I had, he didn't believe me, despite being a model citizen and never ever getting into trouble once. He chose a regular trouble causers word over mine, I was devastated.

I was put on outside clean up duty for a week and the nail in the coffin was that anyone who volunteered for this got merit points for every bag of litter he filled, one of the volunteers was the TP'er. That entire week he would walk up to me after cleaning and gloated about how many merit points he'd got and how close to his reward he was.

I still feel like finding Mr Robinson and begging him to believe that I didn't do it. :(
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 20:25, Reply)
My teacher Pythagoras
was arrested for having sex with an adult.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 20:23, 2 replies)
I let down Matthew Barnicoats tyres every day!
I'm hardcore.

I did a bunch of naughty things but everything I did pales in comparison to some of the things I witnessed at school. I saw drug dealing, cars being robbed from in the car park and levels of violence that would get you banged up if it was adults in a street fight, and all that from one guy. Everyone kept their mouths shut because they/we were scared of him. and we went to a pretty nice school.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 20:21, Reply)
I was never very interested in the school choir.
Largely influenced by my parents, who thought that a lot of the people in it were a bit 'common'. They used to tell me all sorts of terrible things about them, but I just thought they were sort of pitiful. Anyway one day one of them turned around and smiled at me. That's how I fell for the pack of the lieder.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 20:21, 2 replies)
seeing how i got suspended for a week for it
i guess the naughtiest thing i did must be self harming on a school trip. i still have to figure out their logic behind that one.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 20:07, 15 replies)
Master criminal
I was a 15 year old middle-low social ranking student, and used to hang around with similar types. We got up to pretty standard school stuff (I recall one of my teachers chatting to my mum about how the OFSTED inspection had gone ok apart from two students being found duct taped together and having to stiffle a giggle but I was pretty much scared of authority so nothing too bad ever happened). There was one incident where we almost touched expulsion. We had spent a biology lesson writing poems about a particularly gruff lady teacher in the back of my friend Tim's (short, widow's peak, full of shit, policeman last I heard) exercise book. Good clean fun. Until he handed it in, like a dickhead. My scribbly handwriting was recognised and it was passed on up the ladder to the deputy headmaster (DH) and acting deputy head (ADH) who, in retrospect, was a bit of a dude. Luckily I didn't have to grass up the rest of the poets as Tim had already done the honours (I suspect I would have folded almost as soon as the good cop/ bad cop routine started) and the ordeal began with me having to read my poem to them. ADH was sat behind DH stiffling giggles (my poem started "Mrs ... is a guiness drinking, guiness swilling".... went on for several lines of childish twaddle and ended.... "chutney ferret. with a willy". My best mate Rob's poem started "Mrs ... is a rooting tooting love gun shooting" ... went on for several much funnier lines and ended... "oh how I'd love to wed her and bed her tonight", so I didn't envy him having to read that out! The other two culprits Tim and Tom (wideboy sociopath, succesful with girls,no idea why he was sat with us in this particular lesson) poems can't have been great as I can't remember any of them.

I'm not sure what they said to the others but I was told what I'd written was libelous and that I'd be kicked out of school... I was cacking it. My parents were called (they said it wasn't that bad and that they could tell I was just trying to fit in, and also that my poem was less offensive (the fact that the word ferret was written in different coloured ink so they thought someone else had written it played in my favour)) and in the end the only punishment we got was leaft collection for a week. The worse punishment was knowing that the lady teacher read the poems and was really upset... I still feel bad about it now.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 20:01, Reply)
I flooded the school and burnt down the church hall
When I was 6 I had just started first school in Bristol, and I'd like to say now that I'm a perfectly law abiding sort of chap, but for about 6 months at this young age I went though what can only be described as a period of criminal insanity.

The classroom was a very liberal type, you could come and go to the toilets or the school hall as you wished without asking permission, so I would quite often just wander off when bored, and one day for some reason I decided just before home time to stuff soap in to all the over flows on the sinks and turn all the taps on just a little.

I returned 10 minutes later to see that while water was trickling over the edge it was somehow then going down behind the sinks in to the floor and it was not obvious that the room was flooding, sad about this I then returned to the classroom and we all went home. For the weekend.

Needless to say the school was closed on Monday and we had a 'very special assembly' on Tuesday.

It seemed that the entire basement boiler room had been flooded, then the school itself had been flooded due to my antics - I don't remember feeling in the slightest bit scared that I might be caught or that I'd done anything wrong, I even told my friends it was me. Nothing happened.

I then set my sights on making a very old stone built wall in the playground collapse, right on to my friends foot, which was smashed in to a bloody mess, again nothing happened to me and I felt no guilt about it.

Then a few days later my juvenile criminal crime wave came to its apogee, my next door neighbour had stolen a lighter! Wow, we can make fire, so we set off to the school church hall which was a wood built building where we would have things like the Christmas play and nativity, it was the middle of summer and closed in preparation for the approaching holidays.

Walking around the side of the building and having burned everything we could find on our way here (crisp packets, leaves, trying to make a flaming torch etc.) we saw something which made us go absolutely silent - a huge pile of hay protruding from a broken window - to this day I have no idea why hay was coming out of a window, but there it was.

So yes, we set it on fire and laughter turned to sheer terror as the whole pile of straw instantly burst in to flames and the whole building started to burn to the ground.

I honestly feel terrible about these events now, but at the time I just went home and kept quiet, even when the police came at 9pm and got me out of bed I kept calm and quiet and denied everything.

My friend admitted to it and seeing as it was he who stole the lighter he took the full blame. His family moved away shortly afterwards and I never saw him again.

After that the whole madness seemed to stop and I never did anything that naughty again.

I still cannot understand my odd behaviour for those few weeks, I even returned to visit the site of the fire a few years ago and there are now flats built on the land.

So there, I've confessed, it's out in the open, and I promise I won't do it again.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 20:00, 1 reply)

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