In a certain school, in a smallish town a ways north of London...
I went to an all boys school. Oh dear.

So, we had:

The History teacher. Taught me from year 7 to year 9 or so; then, I cleverly decided not to 'do' history anymore. The guy was shitting unstable. One minute he'd be nice as anything, the next he'd scream, throw books, and generally act like a cunt.

We studied the Vietnam war. For a week. By watching Apocalypse Now. Don't show Apocalypse Now to a group of 11 year olds.

Our school used to have non-uniform days, where you paid an extortionate amount for the privilege of not wearing normal clothes. On these days... He'd come in, dressed in full Star Trek regalia.

He even had the badge.

Last I heard, he'd moved to another school, and subsequently got in shit for the few thousand kiddie porn images they found on his computer.

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The Drama teacher.

Oh fucking dear. Big hair. Seriously big hair. Gayer than a sash window. Married to a grossly overweight woman, who also dealt with the 'special needs' children. More blatant a marriage of convenience, I've never seen.

Her dealing with the 'special needs' people extended to him. She once came in to the class and gave us a full on bollocking after we'd made him run out crying. The reason being? Someone had eaten a sheet of paper, rather than show him what was on it.

The fact that the paper had an obscene drawing of his wife on it is beside the point.

This man once gave me a detention for smiling. A three hour detention.

After sufficiently aggravating him, he once decided to point out that I was only on the course because I'd complained about him being a favouritist cunt. He was entirely true; there's no way I was going to hang around doing English Literature for two years, when the pisstake option of English Drama was available.

He marked me down deliberately after that little explosion, although he did apologise. Yeah, after I'd finished the course.

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The music teacher, who used to regularly buy underage pupils drinks at the local shithole nightclub, and sit in her car smoking with them. I liked her.

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The art teacher, who we took to the pub and got steaming drunk towards the end of the sixth form. I saw her down the pub, not too long ago, where she gave me a big hug. She was nice, too.

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The PE teacher, who... Oh, yes, everyone knows about the showers. He committed suicide after accusations got him fired from another school. Nice bloke.

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The chemistry teachers. One of whom had taught my father, the other who was a certifiable pyromaniac. They used to plan large explosions on a weekly basic. The older one could never get them to work, and would always drag the other out of whatever class he was in to 'make it blow up'. The younger used to let myself and a friend amuse ourselves by making explosives in the back of his lesson rather than doing the actual work we were supposed to be.

I was always the one to hold the explosive and/or corrosive things in the fume cupboard to demonstrate.

I swear my hands are still slightly wrongly coloured.

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The biology teacher. He was actually a good mate, although I've lost contact with him. A crowd of us often met him down the pub. The pub atmosphere was usually carried over to his lessons.

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The ginger chemistry teacher, tried to steal a tenner off me. Bastard.

Turned a completely blind eye to the condom I inflated and hit around the classroom like a giant, lubricated balloon.

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The physics teacher (1). Legend. Utter fucking legend.

He used to come out with incredible phrases, such as:

"I've seen your type on the radio."
"Put your stools up on the table and sit down."
"You, boy, no, not you, you, boy, yes, boy. Boy," to nobody in particular.
"Copy this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this...," whilst turning the same sheet of paper over, repeatedly.

Famed for muttering "Bunch of fucking little bastards," under his breath. Utterly unable to remember anyone's name.

He died a few years ago.

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The physics teacher (2). The standard one you'd wind up. Bald, perverted, smelly. Had a nervous breakdown as a result of our abuse. Never reappeared.

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The physics teacher (3). Insane. We used to keep a record of every insult he threw at us; some of them were incredibly creative.

Used to regularly ignore us as we built harpoon guns, electrocuted each other, and made 'art' from chewed chalk and paper, stuck to the walls.

Once pointed out that a particular student was a waste of a good abortion.

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The music teacher; refused to let me in his class for a month after I put my book down on the table too hard.

Yes.

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The RE teacher; great bloke. I didn't learn anything about religion, but a great deal about his encounters with aliens/the government/serial killers.

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The maths teacher; likewise.

His favourite anecdote involved a friend who cut his own penis off with a high pressure hose, by accident.

Or, the one about being stuck in a pipe at a the same gasworks whilst a toxic cloud slowly spread towards him.

Claimed to have invented the spin pass, in rugby.

Had the ability to determine who was going to go bald, and when.

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The english teacher who'd sit with her skirt rucked around her knees, spread legged, on her desk.

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The electronics teacher, who'd trade insults with the pupils. Until one of them called him gay, at which point said pupil was locked in the store cupboard for two hours.

He had no neck.

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The technology teacher, who was arrested for fraud.

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The technology teacher, who'd fall asleep in his own lessons.

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The latin teacher, who could throw board rubbers with pinpoint accuracy to land on someone's desk and choke them with chalk dust.

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The psychology teacher. My personal favourite.

When I hit the sixth form, we started sharing teachers and classes with the Girls' school in the same town. So, we'd have mixed classes for the first time in years.

This psychology teacher was relatively normal, until he had an accident playing football. He got kicked in the head, and went a little bit... odd.

He held a competition to see who could guess the name of his recently born daughter. Nobody won; her name was Delilah. He kept the money everyone had bet. The swine.

I used to sit with a female friend right by the doorway. Whenever we got tired of his lessons, which was often, we'd simply ask to leave. The first time he looked startled.

The second time, he just gave me a knowing look, and a sly wink.

Unfortunately, it was nothing like that. The pair of us just couldn't be arsed to hang around and listen to him droning on. She was actually one of my then girlfriend's best friends. But anyway.

It got to the point where he'd slyly sidle over to me when everyone else had their heads down, nudge me, and ask, "Do you two want to go off, then?"

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth...

Sitting at the front had its downsides, however. He used to engage us in conversation, fairly often. Now, he was a nice enough bloke, but since the accident, as mentioned, he'd gone a little odd.

I'll spare you the conversations we had, as this bollocks is long enough already, and I can't be arsed to bloat it out more. However.

The most memorable thing he ever said to us.

"You know what?"
"What's that, sir?"
"I... I saw a spider, once..."

...He looked very confused, then, and wandered off again rubbing the back of his head.

We took that as our cue to fuck off.
( gone, Thu 10 Nov 2005, 23:40, Reply)