Writer's Block: Life's lessons
Mar. 4th, 2011 11:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fabrisse[Error: unknown template qotd]
Mrs. Tish made the second half of fourth grade a living hell. She decided early on that eight of us were "troublemakers" -- I never found out her criteria. She put the desks of these students in a row perpendicular to the Teacher's desk in order of perceived trouble. I was sixth or seventh on the row and the only girl.
We were sideways to the blackboard; we only saw the sides of our classmates heads.
First of all let me say that other than this teacher, Cherrydale Elementary School was the best school experience I had. The school was the first one I attended where we changed classes. Even though I was in fourth grade, I was taking second grade math and eighth grade English (I was the youngest in that class). I was in fifth grade level for at least one of my other classes, and took fourth grade history with most of the rest of my classmates. For the final three months of the year, there was also a Student Teacher who taught us French.
I lisped. Once a week I had a meeting with a speech therapist. I came back to class one day after my speech therapy and was told I was going to be suspended for cutting class. I reminded Mrs. Tish that I had been taking speech therapy at the same time every week since she began with us (we'd had a different teacher right up through Christmas). She told me it didn't matter. I burst into tears, and she informed me in front of the whole class that it was so much FUN to make me cry.
I was not well liked among my classmates, but she was hated. A couple of weeks after that incident, the boy who had the first desk on the troublemaker row, went ballistic over something. Now, this boy was tormenting my sister at the bus stop in the morning. In fourth grade, he was well over five feet tall, and he delighted in bullying. I stood up to him as best I could -- I was barely 4'8" -- but it wasn't always easy. He ran out of the classroom. Mrs. Tish followed and told us all to stay at our desks. The entire room, except me, went to the doorway. I heard several of them say that she hit him.
When Mrs. Tish returned, she screamed at us. Then she assigned us a one thousand word essay on obedience because we'd all gotten out of our seats. I protested that I hadn't -- and every single one of my classmates supported me. They all agreed that it would be unfair for me to complete the assignment because I'd obeyed her rules. She screamed some more, but finally agreed that I wouldn't have to do the assignment.
I'm torn about what I would say to her. I regret obeying her, although I'm glad that the inherent unfairness of that assignment made the class unite against her. It never occurred to any of us that she could be reported to anyone for anything. My mother took her side because I was a stubborn kid who needed to learn discipline.
I was getting A grades in 8th grade English and French. I passed science well. The only class I didn't do well in was the only class I took from her -- Virginia History.
Maybe I'd say something about her being a sadist who hated kids.
I really don't know.
Mrs. Tish made the second half of fourth grade a living hell. She decided early on that eight of us were "troublemakers" -- I never found out her criteria. She put the desks of these students in a row perpendicular to the Teacher's desk in order of perceived trouble. I was sixth or seventh on the row and the only girl.
We were sideways to the blackboard; we only saw the sides of our classmates heads.
First of all let me say that other than this teacher, Cherrydale Elementary School was the best school experience I had. The school was the first one I attended where we changed classes. Even though I was in fourth grade, I was taking second grade math and eighth grade English (I was the youngest in that class). I was in fifth grade level for at least one of my other classes, and took fourth grade history with most of the rest of my classmates. For the final three months of the year, there was also a Student Teacher who taught us French.
I lisped. Once a week I had a meeting with a speech therapist. I came back to class one day after my speech therapy and was told I was going to be suspended for cutting class. I reminded Mrs. Tish that I had been taking speech therapy at the same time every week since she began with us (we'd had a different teacher right up through Christmas). She told me it didn't matter. I burst into tears, and she informed me in front of the whole class that it was so much FUN to make me cry.
I was not well liked among my classmates, but she was hated. A couple of weeks after that incident, the boy who had the first desk on the troublemaker row, went ballistic over something. Now, this boy was tormenting my sister at the bus stop in the morning. In fourth grade, he was well over five feet tall, and he delighted in bullying. I stood up to him as best I could -- I was barely 4'8" -- but it wasn't always easy. He ran out of the classroom. Mrs. Tish followed and told us all to stay at our desks. The entire room, except me, went to the doorway. I heard several of them say that she hit him.
When Mrs. Tish returned, she screamed at us. Then she assigned us a one thousand word essay on obedience because we'd all gotten out of our seats. I protested that I hadn't -- and every single one of my classmates supported me. They all agreed that it would be unfair for me to complete the assignment because I'd obeyed her rules. She screamed some more, but finally agreed that I wouldn't have to do the assignment.
I'm torn about what I would say to her. I regret obeying her, although I'm glad that the inherent unfairness of that assignment made the class unite against her. It never occurred to any of us that she could be reported to anyone for anything. My mother took her side because I was a stubborn kid who needed to learn discipline.
I was getting A grades in 8th grade English and French. I passed science well. The only class I didn't do well in was the only class I took from her -- Virginia History.
Maybe I'd say something about her being a sadist who hated kids.
I really don't know.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-03-05 07:34 am (UTC)I'm really sorry you had to go through something like that. It's just mindboggling. I'm also sorry your mother took her side. The only positive thing I can say about any horrid teachers I had (and I was, all in all, fairly lucky in that regard) was that my mother actually always supported me (she had really horrible teachers when she was growing up and automatically assumed that it was the teachers who were lying, not me, which was nice because I wasn't).
I sometimes wonder why some bullies... er, I mean teachers... are allowed to work with kids. At least the class supported you that one time (at least against Mrs. Tish). But still, you should never have had to have gone through that.
Damn, that woman sounds utterly awful. *shudders*
no subject
Date: 2011-03-05 08:09 pm (UTC)For me it was my science teacher at secondary school. I was filled with ambition for med school, surgery in particular. My grades were above average for the three years of general science before we chose our O'level subjects, and then she decided that my maths wasn't strong enough to manage physics or chemistry so the school put me in for Latin and German. Afterwards I learned that they'd decided I'd get better marks if I did those subjects instead of sciences.
I promptly lost interest in school, got rubbish results in my O' levels and have drifted around doing summat and nowt ever since and I'm nearly fifty.
It's amazing what a few badly chosen words at the wrong time can do in the formation of a young adult. Sure, if I'd been *that* determined I could have studied outside school, but neither parent seemed that interested, my father died just before I took the exams and I just lost all motivation.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 09:51 pm (UTC)Yeah, nothing like a teacher telling a student they're going to be a failure.