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Worst Teacher/Lecturer/Mentor Ever

G-Lexington

Lex. Icon. Devil.
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...nothing like that, I can assure you. :)

All I can think of was Professor Foster, who spent roughly half of each class discussing college basketball (instead of American Political Thought), and who remembered what my father did for a living and where, but not my name.

Our first assignment? "Write a speech for the President to give in which he balances the federal budget." That's right - FIRST assignment? Balance the federal budget. Despite the fact that the government can't balance the federal budget.

I actually went nuts on this assignment. I typed out this long boring speech as if President Bush (elder) had written it, and then wrote all these margin notes, crossed out lines, put them back in, made it look like something that was really wrangled over. I'd write things like, "This section has to be $485 billion or we'll lose Congressional support on such-and-such". I thought it was really cool.

Got it back the next week. All he wrote on it was "Entirely Unacceptable - F". Why? He thought the whole thing should've been typed.

It was then that I realized that creativity isn't welcome everywhere. I started boning up on my college basketball, and managed a C in the class. You do what you gotta do.

Lex
 
My name for heer was Mrs. Hell.
She taught third grad and had a huge attitude. She also had
about fiftyof us terrorists in her classroom. She gave mean a bad name.

About the middle of October of my third grade year, about four weeks after the Michaelmas term began, she decided it was show down time at Mrs. Hell's OK Corral.

I was the only child who tried to write left handed. Her thought on that is, "You are a child of the devil." She screeched this out to the whole class daily while she reprimanded me for continuing to write left handed although she had clearly instructed us all to hold papers, ink pens with a nib, and write with the right hand. I could not.
And I did not.

The day came when she stood at my desk and with her arms folded she silently lurked at my side just waiting for me to pick up my pen with my right hand and dip it in my ink well. When I was so bold she rewarded my effort with a two handed slam with an 18inch metal edge on the back of my left hand. When it was bloodied, she would usually relent, and make me stay in to practice penmanship at recess time.

Eventually, sometime near American Thanksgiving, she had won the day. Many missed recesses, and many beatings for my left hand, she had successfully fractured my third and fourth knuckles on my lift hand. Effectively, I had only the right hand left to write. She beamed with a wicked smile at me and I subcumbed to her painful ministrations. I told my parents that I fell off the swing set at school.
In the months that followed I became a stutterer. That I dedicate to Mrs. Hell.

When I stuttereed, she took it as I sign that I was demon possessed and since I was a child of darkness, she bagan to lock me in her coat cupboard for a couple of hours each school day afternoon.
It was months before I got sick and finally vomited in her boots and that ended that. Oh third grade. Mrs. Hell.
Shep+
 
Well I didn't have any teachers like Shep or Ram, but I've had my fair share of crazy teachers.

I remember at my middle school one of the Pre-Algebra teachers, Mrs. Everheart, would carry two flasks with her to school. She would get her coffee extra dark, and then pour some of the flask in the cup. One was clear, so we all think it was vodka, and the other was darker, we think it was cough syrup. It's also important to mention that she always smelled like alcohol and cough syrup. I had her for a single day because the stupid counselors made a mistake and I should have been in geometry. Needless to say, I was in geometry about 4 minutes after the class ended.

Freshmen Biology, the teacher had a teaching degree, not a biology degree, and knew jack shit about biology. Most of the time we colored in food webs and crap, and I argued with her about all of her incorrect facts. She was fairly nice about it because she probably knew she sucked at biology, and she would often ask me to explain things to the class. So I did. :D

AP Calculus. Thought the teacher was hot, but he did nothing to teach until three weeks before the AP exam. No matter who the person was, if someone asked him a question he'd always have one of three answers. First, "chair". Second, "seven". And third, he would hiss at you like a cat. Yes, he was truly a freak. It was funny the first two weeks of school, then everyone quickly got over it and started hating him. None of our questions would get answered, and of course very few can just read an AP Calculus book and understand all of the concepts. Amazingly enough, I learned a ton from that class because the students all came together and worked hard since we knew we had to learn it on our own. We got huge packets of calculus problems that were due each Monday (took around 4-7 hours to do), and although we weren't allowed to work on them in groups, we got in big study groups and fought our way through them. Yes, it was utter and complete hell, but it's also all that got me a 5 on the AP exam.
 
...nothing like that, I can assure you. :)

All I can think of was Professor Foster, who spent roughly half of each class discussing college basketball

Lex

I had a math teacher like that in high school except it was hockey.

One female substitute teacher in grade school was really popular for spelling tests. She would tell us the word and then she would spell it to herself. All we had to do was to read her lips.

And there was one other high school math teacher who lasted only one year. During exams, if we told him we didn't understand one of the questions, he would solve it for us.
 
My name for heer was Mrs. Hell.
She taught third grad and had a huge attitude. She also had
about fiftyof us terrorists in her classroom. She gave mean a bad name.

About the middle of October of my third grade year, about four weeks after the Michaelmas term began, she decided it was show down time at Mrs. Hell's OK Corral.

I was the only child who tried to write left handed. Her thought on that is, "You are a child of the devil." She screeched this out to the whole class daily while she reprimanded me for continuing to write left handed although she had clearly instructed us all to hold papers, ink pens with a nib, and write with the right hand. I could not.
And I did not.

The day came when she stood at my desk and with her arms folded she silently lurked at my side just waiting for me to pick up my pen with my right hand and dip it in my ink well. When I was so bold she rewarded my effort with a two handed slam with an 18inch metal edge on the back of my left hand. When it was bloodied, she would usually relent, and make me stay in to practice penmanship at recess time.

Eventually, sometime near American Thanksgiving, she had won the day. Many missed recesses, and many beatings for my left hand, she had successfully fractured my third and fourth knuckles on my lift hand. Effectively, I had only the right hand left to write. She beamed with a wicked smile at me and I subcumbed to her painful ministrations. I told my parents that I fell off the swing set at school.
In the months that followed I became a stutterer. That I dedicate to Mrs. Hell.

When I stuttereed, she took it as I sign that I was demon possessed and since I was a child of darkness, she bagan to lock me in her coat cupboard for a couple of hours each school day afternoon.
It was months before I got sick and finally vomited in her boots and that ended that. Oh third grade. Mrs. Hell.
Shep+

I take great comfort in seeing how old you are and knowing that in all probability, this bitch is now dead and can no longer do that to children. I also weep for the children who, like you, were abused, tormented and permanently damaged because of the the hateful hag. It's people like that who make me hope there is a Hell and that they're burning in it.
 
My two worst professors:

The Shakespeare prof who nearly failed me because I cited immaturity as one reason for the failure of Romeo and Juliet's union and because I referenced plays we hadn't read in class. Most professors would appreciate the extra effort. This professor was also notorious for passing everybody. I think I'm probably the only student in his teaching history to almost fail.

The Modern Literature prof who criticized my essay because I called the narrative in a book we read schizophrenic (and it was). How was I to know his daughter suffers from schizophrenia?
 
](*,)](*,)

Report the teacher - get her removed.​

eM.:(
 
I had a teacher in high school who was literally taken away in a straight jacket to a mental hospital in the middle of a class.

Another was removed because he slapped a student so hard in the face, it left a red mark for over an hour.

In college I had an Eastern Philosophy course with a professor who liked to talk about having (as we would call it now) tantric sex with his wife, that is, when he wasn't talking about driving his beaten up pickup truck. At the beginning of the mid-term exam he said, "If you write 'buddy' at the top, you'll get an 'A'."

Everybody laughed. Those of us who wrote "buddy" got an A, the others all got C's.

An Economics professor, when he noticed that someone had pulled the no-smoking sign off the wall (it was 1970), declared that "the Lord Jesus Christ" had removed the sign, and we could all smoke in class now.

Believe it or not, I could go on with this for quite some time, but you get the idea.
 
the best teacher I have is the type that doesn't spoon feed students and lets me learn by experimenting. She just gives the grades
 
Seeing as though I am a teacher, I probably should avoid this thread, but I was once a student too. And I had my share of horrendous teachers. I think I shared my bad experience with my 6th grade math teacher Mrs. Slater (may she burn in Hell for what she put me through...) with the JUB public before.

This time, I'll tell you about my 10th grade English teacher, Mr. Clauss. He was the worst pseudo-intellectual I'd ever come across. He didn't like my writing style, and I couldn't get any grade above a C in his class because of it. Of course, because I knew how he felt, I didn't exert much effort into anything I did, because not matter what, the grade was always going to be a C,D, or F. At mid-year, he tried to talk me into leaving Advanced Placement English, and transfer into a Regents Level English class. I told him that I planned to stick it out. Nothing changed.

I finally proved he was out to get me on a major term paper. It was supposed to be a report on how nuclear fission works. I literally paraphrased an encyclopedia article. He managed to find fault with it, and gave it a C. He gave the World Book Encyclopedia a C! He didn't mention anything about the fact that I may have plagiarized the article, he just went on and on about my "wooden" style, and poor mechanics. I did finish out the year with him, and passed the final with a 68%. When I continued on in Advanced Placement English 11, with Mr. Polito, I had an A+ average for the first marking period.

Mr. Clauss left the next year to go to law school. When he was my teacher, I don't think he was even age 30 yet. He became a lawyer, and now is in the public defender's office. Sometimes I still see him on TV in some high profile case. He still causes a slow burn in my stomach.....

Bottom line.....the teacher makes the difference! :D
 
I remember one English teacher who was actually pretty funny, and I remember one little encounter with him one day at school over 40 years ago. (True story!)

We met in the hallway:

Mr. W. - "Neil S______!"

Me - "Hello, Mr. W_____."

Mr. W. - "That was not a salutation! That was an interrogative!"

(Now, I'll wait and see if anyone gets this. ;) )
 
^ You didn't know the person who greeted you?

He was my English teacher.

(Hint: It might help you get it if you read the quotations out loud and listen to yourself saying them.)
 
this is the worst teacher that I've ever heard of.

My worst teacher was bad at explaining stuff. He gave us no books, he used several books of his own. His slides were unclear at best.

I gave him the worst evaluation. He gave me an A, surprisingly.

Next semester I had him again (required class, I hated taking it, but I had to).
Same thing over again. This time he had a cumulative exam and when he announced it, he had most of the class not believing their ears and moaning and sighing, cuz it was a lot of material. I ended up getting an A again. Because I asked for the books he was taking his material from and they had a lot better explanations than his slides offered.
 
I remember one English teacher who was actually pretty funny, and I remember one little encounter with him one day at school over 40 years ago. (True story!)

We met in the hallway:

Mr. W. - "Neil S______!"

Me - "Hello, Mr. W_____."

Mr. W. - "That was not a salutation! That was an interrogative!"

(Now, I'll wait and see if anyone gets this. ;) )

He was joking and gave it a double meaning... he told you to "kneel," right?
 
My worst teacher was a music teacher who kept saying anti-gay comments.
 
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