A level photography teacher.
Very nice. And attractive.

But caused a bit of a fuss when it was discovered she had posed for some 'art nudes' tied up in ropes and stuff ...

We didn't mind tho.
(RowdsterDelux, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 16:27, Reply)

Scary Scary Scary
During A Level Biology we were studying genetics. There is this thing called a 'test back cross' where you can plot the path of dominant genes through the parents and grandparents of the subject. We did this on rats in the lab and yes it worked.

I suggested that we ALL do this in class with our own families based on eye colour. I wasn't just being a kiss-arse, I actually thought this would be cool.

My teacher - we called her Mrs Crack based on the fact that you could read the change in her trouser pockets - promptly shot me down and changed the subject.

When I asked her about it afterwards (ok, maybe I was a bit of a nerdy keener), she told me the staggering statistic that 1 in 10 people do not have the parents they think they have. That would mean 2 very upset students in a class of 23.

1 in 10??????

Just to be sure, I did a test back cross on my own parents and grandparents and everything worked out. Phew. Bit nervy though. My mum was a bit of a party girl in the 70's.
(Peelmytangerines, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 16:25, Reply)

Mr A. Still in service, so I won't use his full name.
A true country gent, honest, and solid, Mr A was our woodwork teacher.

I'll cut a potentially long story short.

There was a lad called Will Brearly... (I think) who was using the pneumatic-stapler to fix some upholstry ona seat he'd just made.

Will, forever the one to piss around, was showing off to mates.... holding the stapler behind Mr A's arse as Mr A helped someone else... Will was grinning.

then suddenly there was a PUT-ssshhh, and Will's face turned from Manic grin to total horror.

Mr A had stepped back into the waiting stapler, and Will had instinctively clutched it, sending a 12mm twin-spike staple into Mr A's Arse-cheek. Properly.

Mr A pulled the staple out, turned around, looked a the horrified Brearly, picked up a small length of 2x4, and Screaming "BREARLY, YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE" soundly twatted Will around the side of the head.

Love it: it drew blood, and sent the lad sprawling... but it was fair game, and noone mentioned it again.

Mr A. We salute you and your wood-chip cigars.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Thu 10 Nov 2005, 16:14, Reply)

Latin teachers
Was it just our school, or do all latin teachers shout out the rude words when talking to you about the history of Roman Britain, or when translating.
For example...
Thet often had a statue of a PENIS to represent fertility...

Could just be me.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 16:10, Reply)

Skits (though obviously not to his face)
Nothing quite like a schizophrenic Latin teacher.

Once sent a boy to stand outside the classroom for talking. Nothing too interesting about that you may say, but the rest of his class was on a field trip that day and he was the only student in the classroom that lession (forgotten permission slip or some such)...

He got strangly upset when we portaid him as a cross between a schizophrenic and a vampire in the end of year student skit. A few links such as "We don't like the daylight" and he stormed out the hall. Go figure.

We also had a (male) music teacher who didn't re-appear after the Easter break, but then if you proposition (male) A-level student that tends to happen...
(Flumped, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 16:09, Reply)

bemmer & bowen
i went to a faintly absurd school buried amongst some trees in deepest wales. dylan thomas went there a long time ago, so it had been a vv good place, but by the time i was there it sucked ass.

bemmer was a typical sad case english teacher. balding, somewhat beige who still lived with his mum despite being in his 40s. he was primarily tormented by threats of setting off the airbags in his brand new mondeo - the pride of his life. he was a sound chap though.

bowen was a dwarfish chemistry teacher, who despite being no taller than a pygmy rhesus monkey referred to all his pupils as 'my little friends' & was somewhat barking... never actually did anything certifiable, but his eyes were weird.

some of my friends wrote a comic book & 6th form play based around their crime fighting adventures with lovejoy & clement freud. bemmer read it & almost cried.

we also had an english teacher who'd done catalogue pants modelling in her uni days for cash. there was proof & she was as hot as hot can be.

a maths teacher mrs moody had her handbag raided when she was out of the room by kids. a vibrator was found. this was not forgotten.

we had a family of teachers - both physics - the dowds. they were the most orange people of all time & deeply crap teachers. both complete giants, tall & hugely obese. they had a similarly coloured & built daughter in my year as well.

we had the usual collection of alcoholics & reprobates as well.
(Lord of the Pies, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 16:02, Reply)

So many to choose from...!
Mr L : Middle school teacher who used to live for frightening the life out of his class by slamming your desk down (you know the old flip top wooden jobbies) and staring at you in a kinda Jack Nicholson a la Shining kinda way. Still gives me shivers.

Mr B : German teacher stuck in 70's clothes hell. Trinny and Susanna would have had a field day. Wore these really grim 'kipper ties' and nasty brown flares. Looked a bit like a vampire as well.

Mrs D : Another wierdo from middle school. Smelt like cow dung and as far as I know did not live on a farm.

Mr H : Sports teacher with a suspicious package upfront when teaching netball. Or nancyball as it was referred to back then.

AND FINALLY :
Mrs B : This freak had built up a reputation by the time I started this school for picking naughty kids up by their hair.! Luckily she wasn't my teacher, phew.
(happy with no teeth, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:56, Reply)

Ethel-Mickey the Wrath....
... was the name that Mickey Raw used to call himself by when he dressed as a viking.

This man, a towering Giant with a cauliflower ear used to play rugby for the Harlequins.

His voice, a slow fog-horn voice that boomed through the hall of the school suited his build, but not his personality. He was in escence an aging hippy, who regularly told us to "Grey out" in history lessons. "I'm sorry guys, I couldn't be bothered to teach you today, Just Grey out ok?"

Close your eyes, think of nothing but grey.. and chill.

History lessons, spent sleeping, with Ethel-Mickey the Wrath snoring at his desk. Simply Awesome.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:56, Reply)

Hmm...
Well there was the lady PE teacher that ended up getting with my best friends mum....

I don't know who was more shocked, my best mate, her dad or the rest of the school.
( Farmer Cat ...loving cheese scones since, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:55, Reply)

Mr. Grimley, the music guy,
the oddest teacher at our school.

Long, grey, greasy hair. Shaking.

Constant. Shaking.

His talent on the piano is second to none, but his strange acts bring looks of wondrous amazment from the eyes of the year sevens.

They say his wife left him for his brother, and that's why he's crazy.

Last year he lost all of the year 11s' at the time coursework. He suffered a nervous breakdown over the summer, and came back to school weirder than ever.

One choir practice, he claimed that he loved to see young children perform.

Another, he became so stressed out that he ran down the corridor and barricaded himself into the Sports Hall.

I'll never forget the time he told us all to 'PEE!'

Mr. Grimley is the kind of teacher who sits with the kids at dinner, eating his salad with them.

Mr Grimley, to put it simply, rocks.
(The Disillusioned Starburst, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:45, Reply)

Mr Cook
He had a nervous breakdown every year, because his entire life seemed to depend to guiding classes through O Level History. Nothing else mattered to him, and this often resulted in full-scale fist-fights in the staff room.

Such was his obsession with teaching, he would not allow any other teacher near his class, even when signed off sick for weeks at a time. Instead, he would sent lessons into school on audio cassette, which we would listen to, terrified as his talks were often punctuated with "Stop looking out of the window, boy!" and on one memorable occasion, "Hackett - stop picking your nose", just as we all turned to see the poor boy, knuckle-deep in the bogey mine.

Come to think of it, all our teachers were mentallists. Mr Wallace (son of Barnes Wallace) would routinely walk into lessons ten minutes late announcing "Sorry, I've got a spunk bubble", which turned out to be teacher code for having a bunk-up in the stock cupboard with Mrs Wallace...
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:40, Reply)

Economics should never be taught.
I cannot remember him or his lesson but can remember it was 1 hour and 10 painful minutes long. Highlights of the lessons could include;
spider racing - how quick can a spider cross your desk (not very)
competive counting - seeing how quickly you can add up to one hundred on a calculator
staring - it's where I developed my vacant stare (not that useful)
the biscuit tin story - if you needed to kill the final hour of the lesson ask Mr X (not his real name) if he enjoyed steam engines. He would then waffle on about being a child and making a boat out of a biscuit tin, I didn't understand the connection but then again I didn't understand economics.
I eventually could take no more and asked if I could drop the lesson, to my amazment the head of the year allowed me to. I had a lot of respect for the head, a border line pyscho who once convinced me to touch a car cigarette lighter telling me it wouldn't be that hot ... it was, lesson learnt.
(I'M JACK MEADOWS, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:26, Reply)

hahahaha
I've got a mate called Robban, he's of the darker skinned variety of human being. One day, during PE, one of the cunts at our school started calling him a paki. The supply teacher comes over to teach us how to do the long jump. Looks at my mate Robban and says, 'You go first Paki.' We reeled back. Racism is ok when it's hard kids saying it, but teachers? Anyway, it was a simple mistake. She'd heard the cunt saying Paki, knew his name was Robban, put two and two together, got seven billion, and decided his nickname must be Paco (as in Paco Rabanne). Oh how we laughed. he never returned to our school and the bully, so far as I know, is either a dying drug addict, a builder, or some big black dude's bitch in jail.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:22, Reply)

And anothe rRE teacher
Mr Doherty. Middle School. He was permanently on the verge of flying into a psychotic rage. Made bad pupils stand in the corner, facing the wall, while he kicked them in the back of the knees. Mental. He had a stroke in school about a year after I left. But again, he was one of the best teachers I ever had. I think it help to be a bit nuts.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:02, Reply)

Ferrari
The weirdest teacher I ever had was also one of the nicest. She was our R.E. teacher and terminally timid, which meant she could never control the class. I remember times when people smoked openly during her lessons and blew the smoke in her face (not me, I was a good kid at school).

But there was this one story she got stuck with. It went along the lines of she'd been out for a drink with some fella, when he said 'would you like to come for a ride in my Ferrari?'. She willingly accepted, as most sad lonely people would. Turns out it was a Ferrari Tractor.

So the story goes that they shagged in this Tractor (and this is where the story starts to get a little fragmented and varied depending on who tells it). My favourite ending to this tale was that they were going for it, he pushed a bit too hard and lifted her up onto the gearshift which went up her arse and got stuck, requiring an ambulance to be called out.

Years later, when she had become my A-level philosophy teacher I asked her if this was true. And to her eternal credit, she simply winked. Wikid.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 15:00, Reply)

.
Mr Gough.

taught secondary school geography,

had a wicked handlebar moustache,

would kick people out of his lesson for taking the mickey out of sheffield united,

and got a chainsaw as his retirment present.

they dont make em like him anymore.
(magictorch, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:57, Reply)

Hot pot or hot bot?...
Back in the late 80s we had a husband and wife teaching at our school, who were both looking forward to emigrating to Spain in their nearing retirement.

One day, a rather pale looking Mr Ward stood in front of the whole class and told us that Mrs Ward was abroad at the moment, looking for their new abode. Alas the responsibility of cooking had fallen on Mr Ward, whom I suspect was not as well versed as Mrs Ward. Indeed, he explained, that he'd given himself a rather nasty tummy bug and would spend the rest of the lesson sat upon the toilet.

And off he disappeared... I'm still amazed he told the truth...
(Swirly, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:48, Reply)

watkiss and billy
We had a music teacher called mr watkiss. He was very enthusiastic and waved his arms around alot. This meant you could see his sweat-soaked armpits which were always green whatever colour shirt he was wearing. lovely.

mr johnson was our biology teacher. he had an intricate bowl-cut hair-do. it looked like the helmets on the guys who work the death-star in star wars. it completely covered his ears and according to rumours, he didnt have any. reasons for this ranged from birth-defect to shaving accident.favourite phrase - "mastication! not to be confused with another word". what a c*nt.
(memetic_engineer, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:43, Reply)

Mr Sammonds, crazy Valley racist.
In our school (I won't name it just incase - but it's in Newport and once had the slogan 'The Best School In Western Europe', I kid you not) there was one man who attained Legendary status. That man was the biology teacher, Mr Sammonds.*

For background I'll let you know that I was in school in the early-nineties. Mr Sammonds was clearly oblivious to this though as he'd religiously wear the same seventies high-top trousers and tweed blazer every day come rain, hail or shine. He was possessed of the greatest lamb-chop sideburns ever known, he looked like a Valleys version of WWF wrestler 'The Honky Tonk Man'. He was also one of those teachers so known for spectacularly blowing their top that they inspired not just respect but outright awe.
There are several instances where pupils would be left quivering and spittle-flecked following an up-close, red-faced, bellowing admonishment for getting things wrong. He had a string of stupid put-down phrases such as "Coo, that's a big word, like Elephant or Marmalade" or "sharp as an egg". He never learnt our names, referring to each of us by primary characteristics ("Carrot-Top" (a ginge), "Noddy" (had big ears), "Wobble-face" (was fat) and "The Guv'nor" (apparently for being the governor of all the shit in the land)were the most memorable) but the day poor James Hammet* forgot his homework was the clincher.
James was black. Thus Mr. Sammonds use to call him 'Jungle Bunny' or, in times of extreme endearment, 'Mowgli'. On that day though, in a fit of apoplectic rage, Mr Sammonds took to doing 'comedy' Indian accents and shouting "What's that Kemosabe? White Man speak with forked tongue". Before finishing his sentence with the shameful "Bud-Bud-ding-ding!"

I heard he got sacked a few years later for an affair with a sixth-former.

The crazy cradle-snatching racist.

*The names have been changed to protect the innocent and idiotic
(R. Jimlad twitter.com/sirmarkymark, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:36, Reply)

and some more
The English lit teacher whose considered analysis of Othello was: "Desdemona wanted to do it with a black man."

The weedy, odd, bearded art teacher who approached a table full of skivers and told us that art was "a process, like masturbation". Never looked at a palette the same way after that.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:30, Reply)

mademoiselle rouillon (old crone)
my english teacher(when i was 11)made us learn all the irregular verbs w/ a strange method
for "see-saw-seen" she would say: " think of six saucisses" (in french) .. it really worked because i can still remember all of them irregular verbs even those i never use...
as i was very bad boy she told me to sit at the front row right next to her deck, she was sitting on it most of the time and i could see under her skirt...her flabby tighs and freaky underwear(garters..etc) she was 50+ at the time.
( olivier8 (euroloon), Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:11, Reply)

McFLY!!!!
Had a replacement P.E teacher for one day but that hour and a half will forever be etched on my memory.

His name was Mr Scrace and this of course brought about everyone saying everything was 'discraceful' e.g. a dog crapping on the football pitch.

After earning a lunch time detention for that one, I noticed his un-canny resembelence to Biff Tannen from 'Back to the future'

WRONG ANSWER MCFLY!
and
SINCE WHEN DID YOU BECOME THE PHYSICAL TYPE!

were very popular phrases for that lesson, suffice it to say he didn't return the next day
(Xyphious : Sinkin' Gin since '85, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:07, Reply)

wonderful world of weirdness
There were two main teachers at my secondary school that i considered weird.
the first was an old fool who's name escapes me now. This guy had been there since the beginning of time. A friend of mine was in his graphical design class; he was a polish lad with the surname wyganovski (i think this is right), he was getting a bollocking off this teacher and the techer yelled at him calling him by his surname but calling him pynowski... my mate corrected him and the teacher yelled back "i dont care pynowski!". From that day onward my mate never had his name right in that class.

another one that springs to mind was a guy called mr. reynolds; quite an odd bloke who was obscessed with food and wine, it also turns out he had an obsession with other things too. When i was new to his class he ran through the curriculum with us so we knew what to expect, but each section was divided into courses of a meal. however, although the class thought this was slightly strange it didn't really prepare us for the rumours about him and that most of them were true.
he had been seen at numerous times in the area near where i live where the prostitutes hang around looking for business, cruising around in his car, he also thought he was god's gift and was always flirting with the girls in my class and would make suggestive comments to them; somehow he managed to keep his job the entire time that i was there.
(Hairy_Lee, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:04, Reply)

The Worst Teacher I Have Ever Known
Even though I'm pretty sure truth is an absolute defence when it comes to libel I'm getting a little nervous, so this story is about Mr. R, one of my history teachers. I have been witness to many of these events or heard them from sources I deem to be trustworthy and they all add up to the worst teacher I have ever known.

First off I'm presuming he had some sort of medical condition but this man (in his sixties) had the largest pair of breasts I have ever seen (Lola Ferrari included). They were simply a wonder to behold. Also he possessed a translucent white moustache. If you looked directly at it until your eyes watered you still couldn't see it, look past the side of his head however and it appeared like some sort of magic eye picture.

Anyway, his crimes were numerous. Some of the lesser ones included historically describing France as Britain's "nigger in the woodpile" in front of a class containing several black pupils. He harangued a deaf/mute girl for five minutes for not answering a question in class. He failed to notice for a good five minutes that one of the scrubbier students had turned up drunk and was lying face down in a pile of his own vomit (I'll let him off that one).

My worst experience with him was when he told me within five minutes of meeting me that "I wouldn't have a cat in hells chance of passing my a-levels". He went on to try and prove this when I had to drop out of school due to illness. He was booked, through the council (good money then), to turn up and teach me an hour a week at my house. He turned up the first time and then nothing for the next 20 weeks! The next time I saw him was entering my A-Level exam where he mumbled something about being sorry for not turning up but said I'd do alright anyway. Yeah, no thanks to you you big titted twat.

His most hilarious moment, however, was when one of my friends handed an assignment in late. He thought long and hard about a suitable punishment and decided a detention was best. Detention for an entire year. Erm, right. Strangely my mates parents complained and he had to back down. He was not done yet though. A couple of weeks later he was refereeing one of the inter-house football matches that the same mate was playing in. Due to lack of skill from the other team my mate scored ten times. Mr. R found a way of disallowing seven of them. Mr. R? Mr. Sly more like.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Thu 10 Nov 2005, 14:03, Reply)

Mr Magoo
Our french teacher. A little bespecticled guy who always wore a tweed suit and looked just like Mr Magoo from the old cartoons.
Had no control of the class, and would generally just ignore us and witter on with the lesson regardless of what the class was doing.
One of my personal favourite moments was when he was writing on the board and someone blew a spitball - it missed him by inches and stuck to the blackboard. The rest of the class decided to join in the fun, and soon there was a hail of spitballs flying at the guy - some stuck to the back of his head, some to his jacket, some to the board. He just kept on writing like nothing was happening!

He left shortly after that. I heard later that he had a nervous breakdown... I suppose I feel a little guilty about the way we treated him, but it was fun.
(Captain Happy, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 13:47, Reply)

Cor where to begin?!
Like most schools we had our odd mix too...

There was Mr Sykes the Biology teacher who was in his early 20's and drove a porsche with the exhaust pipe tied on by a piece of string. He was great for a laugh and spent many useful lessons explaining about lesbianism in cows and taking bets on which digital sperm would impregnate the egg on a computer sex ed prog (imagine a class of 30 and their teacher all shouting excouragement at their selected piece of spunk as it slowly swam its way over the screen!). One parents night my mum mistook his for the Head Boy because he looked so young and was messing around in the labs when she met him. Class act. (oooo we got a piece of software that searched addresses based on name and looked him up.. then wrote his address on the blackboard.. boy did we get bollocked.. that said a week later he had us looking up the phone number for the fit business teacher ;) )

We had a religious education teacher call Mr Howarth who was off his trolley, he was known around the school as "Monty" but no one seemed to know why. Secret jokes that got the word monty into the sentance always seemed to infuriate him. That said he was alright and I spent most RE lessons sat at the back with my m8's looking at hard porn on one of the "dyslexic" students laptops :D

I could go on and on but I don't want to be mistaken for working during my lunch!
(Lemming, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 13:42, Reply)

Right bitch called Miss Weir (first time i've missed out the 'D' ... heh) was my form teacher when i was eight
had the biggest nostrils imaginable (except i did'nt know they were called nostrils then...)!

she was shouting in my face one day and i just burst out laughing!

she says to me, she says "what are you laughing at, young of-Teh-9?

I says "did you push a something up your hole to get it like that?"

~ZAP SOUND EFFECT~ me in headteacher's office, wondering why nostrils were being taken quite so seriously...

headteacher sees funny side! haha you crooked old witch!
( Lord Keeps meaning to procrastinate., Thu 10 Nov 2005, 13:33, Reply)

First ever serious answer
I have had a couple over the years a summation lies below:

Mr Doyle: Wore flared suits and had massive sideburns, 'chops' I like to think of them as, stuck in the 70's. I felt bad for him when a couple of kids found out where he lived (with his mother) and egged his house. Mind you he was a cunt.

Mr Brewer-Taylor: Cool CDT teacher always smoking and letting kids hang out in his office. He even took a few of the 6th formers on a camping trip. Turns out he was involved in an internet paedophile ring.

Mr Stokes: Looked like weasel AND he taught maths.

Last but not least;

Mr Jackon: In primary school he used to run the school football team. Took the shower perving to a new level when he started spanking naughty kids with a football boot, with their shorts pulled down. Odd how when you are 7 it doesn't occur to you to poke out the fuckers eyes.

Ta ra
(myohmy, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 13:30, Reply)

Yes m'lady
how could i forget, Parker from Thunderbirds taught me!

A short woman called Mz Abbot, about a thousand years old, used to bobble around the class like a puppet hence the Parker nickname. The bitch had the most evil streak ever in her but also worked with the most quality teacher ever:

Mr Ross, this guy came in on our Christmas end of term fun day thing (Mistletoe day it was called) dressed as a Russian Commisar, hat an everything! I believe he also lead a revolution with some pupils through the 'staff only' corridor that very day, Legendary!
(Xyphious : Sinkin' Gin since '85, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 13:19, Reply)