In high school, my class drove an English teacher insane. He was from Chicago, and had moved down into the deep south... for some reason. I honestly think he felt he was going to do a "Lean on Me"/"Stand and Deliver" thing with these backwoods, illiterate rednecks. It was just unrealistic. It didn't help that the guy was very eccentric. In a school where most of the faculty was passive, if not entirely apathetic, he would go full-on Miss Frizzle at times. He had little rhymes and alliterations he would say while teaching. He would randomly say short phrases in French when he got excited, and I think he was genuinely passionate.
The problem was, in reality, it doesn't matter how passionate you are, there's always going to be some stubborn, ignorant redneck who you're not going to get to. He couldn't control the class, because sections of it hated him. Every day there would be at least one point where the class would just become an uproar. Not chaos. Just 30 kids talking to each other, speaking loud enough to be heard over the others. He would always yell for us to quiet down and he would be drained for the rest of the class, like he was thinking "How could you all be so inconsiderate?"
The main source of contempt for him was the fact that we had a new story, play, novel to read every week. The idea of finishing Romeo & Juliet one week only to have to start up Great Expectations the next really got to some kids. There would be fights in class. "Some of us can't read stories every week BECAUSE WE HAVE LIVES!" or "I got football practice!" It didn't help matters that this was 9th grade in rural Alabama, and this guy was... a little effeminate, and inspired quite a bit of homophobic tension among some of the class.
He had it rough. His brother died suddenly, so he had to fly to Chicago for a week for the funeral. He had assigned us a story to read, that the substitute didn't give us the material for, so nobody read it, essentially wasting the week. He came back to discuss it and was furious that we hadn't read it, storming out of the room. The next day he acted like it didn't happen, and everything was normal. Then someone interrupted his lesson to ask what page of the book were we on. He started chuckling. He placed down his book and put his head in his hands for a moment of awkward silence. He goes on a brief tirade of how we're all awful and how he only wanted to help us, and we had no respect. Then he left. He left the school, and never came back. It was only halfway through the semester. The rest of the time we had a substitute who would just let us talk or do whatever, and maybe put in a movie.
I was pretty sad about the whole thing. I had an interest in literature, and this guy was actually pushing me to expand that. He was a nice guy, and I could never grasp why people hated him. I hope he's doing okay wherever he is.
In college, I was in a communications class. It was a presentation day, and everyone was waiting for their turn to give their report. Then as one of the people is going on about their subject, the professor just goes, "Oh!" We see that a girl has thrown up all over her desk and dropped her face down into it. It was unclear if she was passed out, cringing in pain, or what. The professor told us all to go stand outside the classroom. So we're all gathered around, looking inside, trying to figure out what's happening.
The professor says, call the nurse. And somebody else yells. "Someone go buy her some pretzels!" I didn't know what the fuck pretzels were supposed to do, but they said it with so much assured authority that I called back, "I'm on it!" And ran downstairs to the vending machines. There's like a line, and I'm pushing people out of the way, yelling "Emergency! I gotta get these pretzels!" I hit the wrong button, I get jelly beans or some shit. I think, "Will jelly beans work?" But that person specifically said pretzels. So I put more money in, leave the jelly beans and run back up with my pretzels.
As I'm running down the hall, I pass by some guys with an oxygen tank and first-aid kit, heading to class. I'm outrunning them, because I have it in my mind that these pretzels are essential. I get to the crowd and I'm all, "It's okay! I got the pretzels." Everyone just ignores me, and I'm kind of pissed, because they were a dollar. Not to mention the jelly beans. So the medic people come in and put her in the chair. I'm standing there with pretzels, like a jackass. They get her conscious and stuff. I try again, "Hey, give her these pretzels." Someone finally takes the pretzels and hands it off into the crowd. They wheel the girl out and take her to the elevator, and she's completely out of it, but I see that someone placed the bag of pretzels on her lap and she's clutching onto them, clearly unaware of what the hell they are. And the whole time I'm thinking "Pretzels were not as essential to this as people had me believe." Anyway, I was out $2 and I never saw that girl again.
Also, in high school I saw a guy sodomized with a broom.
