College teachers are always wierd.
With the exception of my mother in law (no, really).

There was the hunchback computers lecturer whose wersion of teaching was shuffling up and down the room muttering, and who for some reason always reminded me of a slug.

Then there was the chemistry teacher - called George Harrison - a northern bloke whose catchprase was "it's trying to achieve a noble gas structure of two or eight electrons in its outermost shell". None of us had a clue what it meant, but we could all spout it out accent and all, and still can 15 years on.

There was also the maths teacher who had no concept of politeness, the english teacher who deeply cared about everything and everybody just a bit too much, and the french teacher who didn't understand english.

I went to a fab college me.
(teasus likes tea, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 15:47, Reply)

Wiggy
She was a pretty weird teacher but my post relates more to a weird (but fucking fantastic) incident that happened during one of her v dull maths lessons. Mrs Morson was her name (unchanged as she doesn't deserve protection) and her nickname was wiggy as she had a big bouffont (sp?) that looked purchased. Anywho one day during my 4th year we were sat in her lesson and a young lad walked in who looked a little too old to attend school and was also dressed in civilian attire. "Excuse me miss" says he have I left my bag in here". "But Peter" replies Mrs Morson " You left school 2 years ago". "Oh Aye" replies the young wag "fuck me! Is that a wig?" Bedlam ensued...
(bluebiscuit, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 15:35, Reply)

ginger bearded chair thrower
I had this English teacher for a short while. He was the replacement for an amazingly cool teacher - the only one I could ever relate to - who had suddenly died of cancer.
Mr Thompson was a little unhinged to say the least. He always had a slightly insane glint in his eye, and used to lose his temper on a regular basis...until one day he flipped out, threw a chair across the classroom and stormed out, never to be seen again.

Or so I thought. Several years later, and I go to an FE college in another town about 30 miles away. And guess who my english teacher was....
(teasus likes tea, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 15:35, Reply)

Mr Threadgold
Back in year 10, we had a science teacher called Mr Threadgold who was a complete and utter bastard and had it in for me. I was dragged into his science hut and unceremoniously bollocked for having the audacity to walk past in the company of a group of girls. Not a week went past without him having a pop at me for some misdemeanor (real or imagined).

Revenge was sweet though. On my very last day of school, I was treated to the sight of his china blue Vauxhall Viva listing to one side in Titanic stylee, accompanied by a loud "hiss". I remember standing there humming "Abide with me" and saluting. Better yet, I got hideously drunk later that evening, snuck back into my school grounds and pissed all over the door of his classroom. Marvellous
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 15 Nov 2005, 15:13, Reply)

the end of mr Jeffrey
Mr Jeffrey was the strangest of men for a host of reasons, not least for his almost lucozade orange hair and unfathomable classroom habit of randomly saying 'who's a fuckdidoodle?' in his chirpy voice in between chemistry-related sentences. after the initial bewilderment and amusement, members of the class took to answering with the names of various unpopular classmates, and Mr Jeffrey would simply ignore the reply, even when given in unison by several loud voices.

One day, it was decreed that whenever the question 'who's a fuckdedoodle' next arose, we would all stand up and scream 'You Sir!' and see what would happen.

Came the lesson, and sure enough came the question. We shouted the words, and in the stunned silence that followed, Mr Jeffrey closed his eyes, and solemnly opened his trousers to produce a small penis. Quickly tucking it back in he nodded, walked out the classroom, got in his car and never came back.
(bruceforsythismywife, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 15:02, Reply)

where to begin...
finally a QOTW i actually have something worth contributing, though i suppose it hasn't stopped people before....

anyway initials were correct as at the time they were my teacher.

Mr B. in primary school. out and out crazy. he had several imaginery friends that he used as an example of how we were supposed to behave. one kid was given a fortnight of detention for telling Augustus Gloop where to go. he also played the Mandolin at random intervals during the day.

Mr. B number 2. also in Primary school, used to wobble his head continuously while speaking. make a figure 8 on a horizontal plane with youe chin, now you've got the idea. stopped the instance his voice did though.

Miss L. in year 10 high school. posed for the local version of Penthouse, different name of course, but it was her, she told us. even signed some copies, though why anyone would buy a signed soiled magazine is beyond me. seemed like a good idea at the time. alledgedly got together with a few boys after graduation.

Miss C. who became Mrs R. was my replacement homeroom teacher in final year high-school, was absolutely gorgeous and straight out of university. not so much weird behaviour on her part, but someone was insane to put a stunning 21/22 year old teacher in charge of a room half full of randy 17 year old boys.
found out later that Mr R. was quite a fan of domestic violence. hope she found someone worthy since.

Miss S. 50/60 year old spinster who was always horny apparently, ugly as the ugliest woman you've ever seen... in spandex. camel toes were common, though this was before they had a name, and had the tendency to wear see through shirts, so we all got a glimpse of her nipples with her naval between them, if she stood up. was fired recently for wearing a miniskirt and re-enacting that Basic Instinct move. i'm glad i wasn't in that class. you could tell where she'd been sitting from her snail-trails.

Mr Y, who was a Phys.Ed. teacher old as time itself. used to teach my father, and i apparently bear some resemblance since he continually called me by my father's name. i went along with it after a year or so.

Mr R. who looked like Obelix from the Asterix comics. had a flatulence problem and continual knob-rot. used to stand with one leg on a chair all dramatic-like, let one rip and scratch his nads. i'm thankful he also seated us alphabetically so i was at the rear of the room.

Mr F. called the looney leprechaun on account of him being Irish, and a complete nutter. taught a class that required field trips, more often than not, to the bush. he'd wander off on his own, dig a few holes, shout enthusiastically at the few people who followed him in some language heavily disguised by the thickest Irish accent you've ever heard, which only got thicker as he got more excited before running off into the undergrowth to dig another hole. got tired after a few trips so we dug holes closer to the bus.

i would close with a badly disguised penis joke or some mention of lost virginity, but i'm sure they've all been said before.
(mikewicked, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 14:44, Reply)

Miss Pope
I had a maths teacher named Miss Pope. Couldn't stand the woman, and neither could anyone else come to think of it.

Whenever she taught a lesson, she wouldn't look at any of the pupils, instead she would stare at the clock the entire time, and then would wiggle the top half of her body from side to side as she spoke.

I had to leave school rather young (illness) and she was one of the teachers who was rather nasty to myself and my parents. One day I happened to be in Marks and Spencer's with my Mother and I saw her at one of the fridge cabinets. I pointed her out to my Mother. Then another one of her appeared out of nowhere!

She had a bloody identical twin. She was also a teacher, but at another school. They wore exactly the same thing every single day. Same hair style, both going grey (probably even the same hairs), both wore the same nasty sandals, and round glasses. They both even wiggled as they spoke to people. Bear in mind they were the wrong side of 40.

It makes me shudder to think about her/it/them. I still think she was shagging the deputy head.
(Oinster, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 14:43, Reply)

Toshitotta sensei
A Japanese language class in an Australian high school (it's common there to have Asian and European language options). Our teacher was an Aussie in his 70s and he had lived in Japan for about 30 years from just after WWII and came back to Australia after his wife died. Anyway, normally this guy was quite mellow. When people mucked about a bit, he did try to raise his voice, but he was kind of frail and ended up shaking so much that people stopped their misbehaving because they felt sorry for him.

One day, though, he totally lost it after he heard someone in the class telling an off-colour joke. I thought the rant would kill him, he was shaking that much. But it wasn't his heart that gave way first, thankfully. It was his teeth.

Mid-rant the falsies flew, glistening saliva in the sunlight, clear across his desk and landed with a clunk in front of my friend in the front row. The room, which was already silent, fell even more so (if that's possible). He stormed around, snatched them away from my friend's desk and left the room. Only then did we laugh. Long and loud. Felt kind of bad for him though - at least until I realised we now had the rest of the period off.
(arcane, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 14:42, Reply)

Mr Powell
The only person that I know that could quite happily use the word 'please' 4 times in one sentence, without battering an eyelid.

He also had a fondness for the word basically.

Couple that with his extrodinarily long giraffe-like-neck, he was most likely an alien.


Also there was a Mrs Morgan, but that isn't my story to tell! (but i will do if the person who technically own all the rights to the story doesn't tell it.
( SocialRobot, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 14:09, Reply)

Mr Broadway
None of this 'Mr B******y' bollocks from me. No need - when he was nicked for biting half of someone's ear off it was unsurprisingly all over the papers, so it's hardly slander, eh?
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 14:02, Reply)

Cranky French fun
Our teacher of French was a delightfully dumpy, altitudinally-challenged French lady with a comedy squeaky voice and a very thick accent (think 'Allo 'Allo, without the incipient racism, natch).
When we were all 14 and therefore awfully 'ormonal, we were very badly behaved. Resultingly she once came to our lesson armed with a two foot long brown squeaky dog toy in the shape of a large caveman-style club. With this she proceeded to bang us all on the head for any misdemeanour, and addressing us fortissimo & high-pitched (apologies for my interpretation):
"You 'orrible leetle boyz, I weeel bang you on ze 'ead, as you are ver' ver' naughtiiieee" [FX: squeak, squeak, squeak]
I still remember her very fondly (she was a fine teacher) and my own comedy French accent (which is really, really, really hilarious ) is based on her.
( petuniadb, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:58, Reply)

My 1st year physics teacher
used to regularly punish certain boys by making them stay behind and clean his rugby boots. Particulary 1st years. There were rumours he was doing something else (although no proof) and he was asked quietly to leave.

Oh, and this next one is not strictly my teacher (he joined after I left), but the Headmaster who joined (after the old one retired) did a runner with the school's entire budget for one year.

Oh, and another one I have just remembered.

One day, myself and two friends were inside the building. One friend was beating the other friend's head against the Window (like teenage boys sometimes do). One of the Teachers, A Mr Glover, walked up and said "If you are going to bang another boy's head against the Windows, please do it outside as we don't want blood on the carpet".
(Ok, I'll get me coat, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:58, Reply)

Primary school
My old primary school teacher Mrs Nelson smoked all the time ...... in the class rooms as we were playing in the sand and stuff.

About the same time there were anti-smoking ads on TV featuring Superman and the evil "Nico-teen".

I told my teacher one day that "Superman says you shouldn't smoke".

She told me that "Superman smokes like a bloody chimney with his super lungs".

I spent the next 10 years swearing blind to everyone that smoking was OK cos Superman smokes like a chimney.
(Tim K, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:53, Reply)

My physics teacher
Used to be called Mr Alan Wellstead. Now she's called Miss Emily Wellstead. What I really want to know is what happened to her wife and kids.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:36, Reply)

Not my own, but...
I heard a first account of this from a reliable source.

This person used to have a French teacher who seemed like your average slightly repressed middle-aged Englishman. One day, he set this class of fifteen-year-olds some homework. They were to translate a paragraph about a slightly repressed middle-aged French teacher who went home from school one day and hung himself.

Guess what he did when he went home.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:34, Reply)

My primary school headmistress
Used to tell us in assembly that we'd all go to hell if we ran down the corridor or got into fights on the playground or didn't do our homework. I'm Jewish, so this was my first ever experience of Christianity. I wasn't particularly taken with it! She also once burst into tears whilst bollocking me for scrawling obscenities on my exercise book. Then she had a nervous breakdown.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:31, Reply)

My weirdest teacher was called Mrs Greidinger
Demonstrating the stellar wit of a bunch of thirteen-year-olds, we referred to her as "Mrs Gravedigger". She taught art, and we knew she was a total nutcase largely due to the fact that she addressed us, a bunch of well 'ard council estate adolescents, as "Good Children", in the tone of voice normally reserved for babies. We didn't realise just how weird she was until the day she covered a maths lesson when our normal teacher was of sick.

There were a lot of foreign kids at my school with odd names, so it was common practice for a teacher covering a lesson instead of taking a register properly, to send round a piece of paper for us to sign our names on to spare themselves the embarrassment of pronouncing all our names wrong. On this occasion, since it was Mrs Gravedigger, we all wrote down both our own names and one more.

When she got the list back, Mrs Gravedigger looked very confused. She did a head count. She counted the names on the list. She did a head count again.

"That's funny...twenty-one children in the class...forty-two names on the list..."

We quivered with expectation.

"Calvin? Is Calvin Klein in this class?"

Some smart-alec replied, "He's just gone to the toilet, Miss."

"Mickey Mouse?"

None of us could contain our mirth by this point. We rolled about in hysterics whilst she went to get the head of maths, who took one look at her and at the list and gently led her away.

We never saw her again. Rumour has it she ended up in a mental hospital.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:27, Reply)

Could have nailed my former German teacher, but didn't
My (then) mid-20's German teacher in high school, Miss L, was fairly unremarkable in wierdness terms - not ugly, insane or deformed in any way. She was okay, if a little new-age in her dress code. I remember she drummed one word into us again and again - 'jugendherberge', which means 'youth hostel' (see? I still remember lol). I only realised why she did this years later - basically if we ever found ourselves lost and alone in Germany, we could grip any German citizen and using probably the only German word we knew, be directed to relative safety - bless her :)

Anyway, years later my mum was qualified and working as a high school teacher and she asked me to be her plus-one at one of the faculty do's (my stepdad is useless socially and my aunt, who was supposed to be going, couldn't on this occasion on account of being an idiotic, thoughtless, spineless lush). It was a retirement do for the olde faithful handyman with disco and trimmings, and I shortly discovered that Miss L, who could've been a Mrs by then for all I knew, was a member of the faculty at my mum's school basically because she was there and my mum recognised her.

I clocked Miss L across the room pretty early on, and she clocked me clocking her. I doubt she recognised me, partly because it had been over ten years since I was in high school, but mostly because for the remainder of the evening she was always in view of where I was sat and casting many a flirtatious glance in my direction.

If I hadn't been playing for the other team by then, I'm sure she would have been mine for a spot of energisch und belohnungsgeschlecht. But I was, and had the hots for one of the strapping PE teachers instead - didn't get off with him either though as he was straight and known to be shagging one of the classrom assistants, so Miss L and I both barked up the wrong tree that night. Ah well.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:14, Reply)

We had a mad french teacher
Who didn't see that everytime we sat with our coats on we just wanted to hear her shout 'jacket off please'

In all the 3 years she never noticed why we laughed and remained with our coats on.
(Hagbard MacDougal, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:10, Reply)

The angle of the dangle............
Lovely guy but a tad wierd , our Roger. 30 something,probably. Hard to tell with a youthfull face but a hairline receding faster than a fast thing.Still lived with mum and dad and dressed in frayed trousers and a hand knitted pullie with holes abounding and bits a dangling. Roger was terribly passionate about 2 things, trains and land law. An odd combination, very much like his clothes.
His perfect holiday was spent in Wales timing the narrow track trains and they chuffed wearily up the hills and down again. I mentioned at the end of term that I was catching the train home, from Nottingham to Torquay. Not only did his cranial biocomputer instantly regurgitate the best train to catch from Nottingham it was also able to instantly advise on the platform it left from, the arrival time in Newton Abbot, the time of the connecting train and the platform that train left from. Awesome!!! I digress, slightly....Roger's greatest (weirdest) lecturing feat occured on a sunny June day in a small tutorial room witnessed by, sadly, just half a dozen bleary eyed and reluctant students. The room itslf was errrm compact (shame about the personal hygene, Rog'....) fortunately the tinted windows were large and swiveled a full 90 degrees on the spiggots mounted in the middle of the top and bottom of the frame.
Suffice to say Roger was in enthusiastic mid flow on some archaic irrelavance sitting on the window sill and leaned back agaisnst an apparently shut window...................
Well yes OBVIOUSLY he fell out, but only a man of true wierdness, eccentricity, call it what you like, would have the good fortune to catch on foot under the window AND carry on lecturing,upside down, without so much as missing a beat, whilst we hauled him back in.
(No animals/students/ lecturers were harmed in this story)
1st post. Did I pass?
Apologies for nothing. It's a lawyer thing. Sorry.
ooops.
bugger!!
(Salemmm, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:01, Reply)

We had a history teacher
(Mr W)who had bright yellow underarm sweat.

we always assumed it was due to him using custard powder instead of regular deodrant.

Apparently this was untrue.
(nappy rash, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 12:50, Reply)

Oh my god......
Maths teacher, Mr G (wont give the rest, coz I is a coward-o), the facts and the fiction…

Fact 1:

Huge great fat bastard with an even bigger beard and glasses. Had a liking for orange shirts and the worst 60’s style kipper ties with awful purple / green paisley patterns. Inspiration for the then 6th form’s 1st annual “crappy tie day”, and no matter how we hunted around the charity shops, we could still not beat the man.

Fact 2:

He claimed to have an infection on his middle finger, which forced him to continuously wear a white cotton glove, Imagine if you will, a kind of fat, sweaty, Tesco value, Michael Jackson impression. How he got the infection may be explained by fact 3…

Fact 3.

The man, as others in the QOTW, was obsessed with little boys having showers. Oh how we used to cower as little 1st years after PE trying to cover our little bald acorns bollox, only for him to come bounding in to the changing rooms shouting “RIIIIIIGGHT!!!!! GET IN THEM SHOWERS!!!!!” And then used to stand at the entrance, sending you back in if he felt that you had not washed well enough. I have actual visual confirmation of him ‘slapping’, i.e. ‘touching up’ some one in my class…..urrrrrrgggghhh *shudder* This would probably explain the middle finger problem, aren’t you supposed to wear protection when you “go in the back doors”??

Fact 4.

Sitting in a maths lesson one day, he utter the immortal lines “Darren !, ‘elp me! ” as he slid off his chair and passed out. He got left there…..the fat muppet….


Fact 5

We came to school one Monday, he was gone

Fiction 1 (but probably fact 6)

He got sacked for being a fucking pee-A-doh-file!!!!!!


*POP* Ahhh,, there goes my QOTW cherry, which only hurt slightly less then when Mr. G took the Bum cherry…….

Lengthy? Well, your eyes rolled back in your head when I inserted it………
(smirker neverletmetellyabouttheraggamuffinbiznessandting!, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 12:40, Reply)

thought I'd tell you about some of the rest
Eva (we don't call our teachers by their last names here) think it was third to fourth grade. shouted so much at us that she lost her voice and had to go to a doctor for months to repair the damage.

Peter, nervous bloke and had just become a teacher. We had him at the same time as Eva. He couldn't handle us at all and had a nervous breakdown. Poor guy, he had to spend a year at a "special" hospital to keep him from trying to kill himself. He came back after he was let out and said hi to us, he stood in the doorway looking terrified. He wouldn't walk through the door. poor guy never went back to teaching.

Later I've had a biology teacher who was living with his mom when he was 57 years old. his voice was like he had never reached puberty. He had no sence of humour what so ever. He wore the same clothes for three years (as far as I know), every day, and stank of sweat at quite a distance.
One day, while waiting for class to start, our principal came and told us that our biology teacher was sick, and that we could fuck off* (*might not be the exact words he said)
anyway, the next time we had biology the little twat of a teacher started whining about us not coming to his lesson. Aparently he had decided to come to the classroom that day, but half an hour late. we told him about the principal telling us to fuck off, but then he started whining about us listening more to the principal than to him. Finally one of the girls in my class stood up and gave him a good shouting at, which ending in him crying and walking out of the room. After that the tension built up. He could go mental about anything and start shouting and sending people out for no real reason. We had biology as our last class, the last day before graduation. He had said that we could take it easy and watch films those last two hours. We couldn't believe our ears! Had he finally chilled out?
We all sat in dead silence as he showed us two very bleak, depressing films about people who where dying of cancer and anorexia.
when it was over he told us to put the chairs on the desks and then leave...
I could go into detail about this man going nuts over things like one of us using, in his opinion, too much glue while making posters, and then ranting on and on about it for half an hour, but you get the picture.
He is a remarkably miserable man, who should never have become a teacher.

Length?
he'd probably go mental over that too.
( The little pink animal is mostly harmless, except on, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 12:39, Reply)

Aristott ill
In my first year of high school - 3rd form Geography was taught by Mr A. Stott. Slight dementia and total memory loss...he would sit at the desk in front of the class and if he was to hear someone talking regardless of gender, would point in the general direction and shout "YOU BOY!!!Stop talking!!!!"...best thing about this class was the poem someone had carved into the wall at the back - ....God made man, man made plastic, whoever made Stott must have been spastic"...and underneath in slight illiterate style - that gi was a basdit
(essbeenz there done that, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 12:20, Reply)

It must just be me....
I must have had the weirdest teachers of all at my school, as I didn't get molested, beaten up or bullied by any of my school teachers.

Let's not turn this into an episode of Oprah and pour out our bleeding souls.
( Dabooka_ has changed his name on, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 12:00, Reply)

Please Help!!!
my old PE teacher,

the first time we met him, he pronounced "the names Mr.Shephard; hard by name hard by nature". This is to give you an insight into what he was like. (Think Brian Connelly in the Grimleys)

One day in gym, playing 5-a-side football, he actually managed to break his ankle after going in for a challenge with the weediest kid in the class.

The five foot tall, skinny chinese kid saw him coming and at the last minute pulled off the sweetest side-step since Jason Robinson and co kicked Australia's ass in the world cup.

Cue our teacher, on the the floor, crying, turning to our group and screaming......

PLEASE........SEND FOR HELP!!!!

it took us a few minutes to get off the floor and compose ourselves, but mr.hop-a-long was never the same again.

revenge is sweet
(join my cult, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 11:42, Reply)

/lurk
Ginger maths teacher, was new to the job. Poor bugger got lumped with our class for a special set of extra classes at friday lunchtimes. Natch, we did jack all afternoon. To alleviate the boredom, we came up with increasingly inane schemes to provoke his twitchy nerves. Some mates and I sat in the front row and kept moving the tables forward every time he turned. When he only had about a foot of space left to move, he ran into the closet and yelled, "If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you'll have". He ran back out and jumped onto his desk, brandishing a rubber rapier and an eye patch. We laughed at him for about ten minutes, then left.

An english teacher we had was most likely a secret gayer, he had every Frank Sinatra bootleg, and made us watch every mel brooks film. He also had a penchant for messing with our heads. One lesson he told us someone had complained about the racist humour in blazing saddles so we couldn’t watch any more mel brooks. Then he watched our boys-school inquisition unfold, until we reached the shocked conclusion that it must have been that freak who sat next to me, and whom we all knew was clearly some kind of child murderer. After half an hour of interrogation our teacher told us he was taking the piss, and started the video of young frankenstein.

One well-known psychotic geography teacher, mr wood, was in the habit of screaming at his class that they were a bunch of reprobates and lowlifes. His magnum opus was a bit of banter about parental professions. A:"My dad's an organic farmer." B:"Haha! What a gayer!" Mr.Wood:"Oh! What does your dad do B? Hmm? Tell me? Oh. I forgot. He's dead." One of those heart-warming moments.

Another eponymous geography teacher, mr shephard, used to keep a crowbar in his desk to threaten the little second years. He also managed to tip over a minibus on the school trip up north to Carbisdale. What a legend.

And a mate in my college just finished up with a tutor who had to leave his old college because of a bit of a scandal. He was in the habit of bedding the local hookers and then reviewing and star rating them on a website. Incidentally, he also used to get into a bit of lecherous mischief with his students.

That’s all the interesting ones, methinks.
Apologies for length, et al.
(PD Jameses, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 11:35, Reply)

Shitty Valleys' boys' comprehensive.
Far too many to go into much detail some of the choice examples included:

The Geology teacher who used to hurl a fist sized lump of lead ore at the head of anyone talking in his class.

The Chemistry teacher who kept his porn stash in his walk in stationary cupboard.

The paedophile Head Teacher of the "lower school" (11 to 13 year olds) who would call out a pupil at random to "test their reading skills" by perching on the same stool as them leaning over their shoulder breathing heavily.

The Biology teacher who in explaining reproduction to class 4D (the retards) whipped his cock out onto the desk and said "There you go boys this is what it comes down to".

The other Biology teacher who would use the word "basically" an average of 20 times per 30 minute lesson.

The history teacher who put petrol into the school's one and ONLY diesel minibus because he "thought it was the other (ie non-existant) one".

The other history teacher who in the middle of teaching us about the Black Death started banging on about how everything that was wrong with the world was the fault of the "Bastard Commies", never did get round to explaining just how they managed to cause a plague 6 centuries before they came into existence though....

The slutty English teacher who used to wear a dress made from 2 beach towels and would then complain about the fact that the pupils in an all-boys' school "keep looking at me".
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Tue 15 Nov 2005, 11:16, Reply)

Our
maths teacher was called Laurie Carr.

we used to take the piss that much that he broke down.


(gets coat)
(nappy rash, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 11:13, Reply)