My kind of teacher


A good education story....


A former Sergeant, having served his time with the Marine Corps, took a new job as a school teacher, but just before the school year started he injured his back.

He was required to wear a plaster cast around the upper part of his body. Fortunately, the cast fit under his shirt and wasn't noticeable. On the first day of class, he found himself assigned to the toughest students in the school.

The smart aleck punks, having already heard the new teacher was a former Marine, were leery of him and decided to see how tough he really was, before trying any pranks.

Walking confidently into the rowdy classroom, the new teacher opened the window wide and sat down at his desk.

When a strong breeze made his tie flap, he picked up a stapler and promptly stapled the tie to his chest.

..... Dead silence ... He had no trouble with discipline that year.

SEMPER FI!!

Cheers, Vince

Thanks for the chuckle, Vince! That was a good one!

yip that would get thier attention.

That'll learn them!

Definitely sound like my old Engineering Teacher..
Tough guy!!

I love that Vinnie, some kids just have to learn the hard way......When I was a kid in Arizona I had an old lady teacher that no one could stand, I think it was around the 4th grade in school. I always thought of her as a desert hermit, couldn't imagine her having a family life. She was always mean. One time she had me and, another bunch, stay after school for some after-class English lessons and spelling tutoring.

I remember her asking me a question and ending the sentence with "is it not?" I'd never heard that before and couldn't figure out how to answer the question. I'd ask "what do you mean?" an she'd always come back with the same "is it not?" on the end of her sentence and after a while I started crying because I didn't know how to answer a question with another question in it, it was confusing and I knew I'd get a swat or something if I didn't answer (I was pretty afraid of her).

My sister rescued me......At recess that day the teacher had us collect some locusts and put them in an aquarium in the class room for us to torture or something, anyway when my sister came to rescue me she had a jar of locusts that she'd collected and brought in to the teacher. I happened to be at the teacher's desk getting the confusing questioning and crying about it and my sister walked right up to the teacher and gave her the locusts. The teacher took the jar of locusts and put her fingers in and squished them.

We stood there with our mouths gaping in shock and she told us she had enough locusts and to go on home.....that was a whew! moment for us, like get me the hell outa here.

I guess your story just reminded me of that...can't seem to forget it. I had some pretty bazaar teachers in grade school. I remember a class we had and the teacher was going to show us some cow eyes. She was outside the class with a jar full of cow eyes and she was paring off the cloudy membrane around the eyeballs with a paring knife. I guess we were young enough to just think it was cool or something but I'll always remember that one too. Maybe they could only hire the deranged to work on the reservation, I dunno but there were some strange ones.


Suz

Yep...there are some pretty strange teachers out there Suz...more so in days gone by though. But then again, I suppose they are a cross section of society and as such have the same foibles as the rest of us...do they not?


Cheers, Vince

Huh? Whada you mean?

suz

Cheers, Vince

My favorite/hardest teacher was an old WW2 Catalina pilot who had a fixation with the cane and how to utilise it to it's best advantage.

he had a cane collection which he used to introduce to all his classes on first day, when you got caned YOU picked the weapon of choice.

He weilded it like Darth Vader. He'd sneak around during tech drawing and when you thought it was all good and you could have a quiet yarn with a mate he'd sneak up behind you and whammo this bloody cane would land about 1mm off your arm. Enough so that you'd feel it on your arm hair.
He had a face like a wrinkled prune and voice like gravel, He'd look at you through his beady eyes and say, Next F'kn time it'll be your arse. He'd walk off with a big smile on his face whilst you'd sit there trying to hold the inevitable brown stuff from leaking out.

Hard as nails but a bloody good teacher, partial to cigarettes as bribes. When he died he had one of the biggest funerals I'd seen. Even the worst of the students came to pay their respects.

had a woodshop teacher in 7th grade. had a wooden leg we dindnt know about. during class into he stuck the pointy end of the compas in his "shin" to get the point accross. it worked.

great storys guys the hard ol huas were definately the ones you remembered the fondest.