Oh, loverly- the stories
For a good long while I was the weird one- the spelling-bee champ who would kick anyone's ass for looking at me funny. Had a massive obsession with black holes and such that culminated in me spending my entire fourth-grade career studying them and eventually teaching science class for a week because the teacher couldn't be bothered. Also read nearly constantly, and yet didn't know who'd won the American Revolution until I was 11.

I wasn't the only one, oh no. My Lit teacher in 11th and 12th grade had stories. Oh, did he have stories.

Like the one girl. Had a few mental problems, so had to have a behavior sheet filled out after every class. For the most part, a nice girl, however as soon as she sat down and the bell rang, she'd burst into tears and sob all through class until the bell rang again, at which point she'd dry her eyes, and with a cheery "See you tomorrow, Mr. Yak!" she'd leave.

This went on for some time, and finally he couldn't just ignore it, so on her sheet he wrote down "exhibits bizarre behavior." That's all. No major complaints.

A few days later she comes in with an intense glare.

"Do you like the word bizarre, Mr. Yak? My parents won't like the word... bizarre!"

Now, Guidance isn't supposed to show the kids these sheets- so he was shitting himself in anger as he rang up the office.

Turns out she'd gone through the filing cabinet, taken out all the "J" files, and sat out back casually dumping them in the tip until she found hers. Lovely girl, really. Heard she killed herself a few years later.

Another nutter was one from long before my time- back when Day-Glo pink was all the rage in men's fashion. This kid, too, needed a behavior sheet, for he was on all sorts of lovely drugs and such, and had the IQ of boiled peas.

So one day, as class is going along, Mr. Yak notices the kid's got his tank-top pulled all the way to the side, and he's doobling his nipple. Just sitting there, contentedly, doobling.

Yak is troubled by this, but for lack of a better idea, simply puts down "fondles nipple" on the behavior sheet.

Cue next day, middle of class, when the intercom comes on.

"Mr. Yakavonis?"
"Yeah?"
"Does this say... fondles nipple?"
"Sure does!"
"Uhm. Thank you."

Few months later, same kid was sitting in class, jerking his head back and forth. Yak asks what he's doing.

"I'm in a race!"

Apologies for length, but NEVER for girth, you filthy little pansies.
(Sir Dixon Dongs Good evening, gentlemen., Sat 20 Jan 2007, 9:22, Reply)