Back to School

Posted Aug 17 2011, 5:16 pm in back to school, mean teachers, Miscellany, religion class, school

It’s that time of year again. Back to school season. When I was a kid, I dreaded the end of August with the same dread I now reserve for swim-suit shopping. Sure, it was nice seeing friends again, but it also meant going to bed early, homework, studying for tests and for me… upset stomachs.

I had a lot of those.

I always got the meanest, nastiest, worst teacher in the school. Every. Single. Year.

In fourth grade, I got stuck with Sister Bernita. Her face was frozen in a permanent scowl and she’d shake a crooked finger at me when I was in trouble. Which was often. Oh, not because I misbehaved. No, I was in trouble because of poor penmanship.

In sixth grade, I waited with a sense of entitlement as our home-room teachers were assigned on our first day. I’d already survived Sister Bernita. Surely, I’d be assigned to Mr. Mele’s class – the coolest, youngest, nicest teacher who ever worked in my school.

I got Sister Victor, Sister Bernita’s evil twin. When they pulled me from the girls’ bathroom that day (upset stomach, remember?), I remember crying to my mother how unfair it was to get two mean teachers. I suffered through various tortures like having my hair pulled every time she could’t read my hand-writing. But the worst of the indignities I survived was Religion Class.

Sister Victor was an artist and frequently assigned art projects for homework. The problem? I am NOT. The product of a father who builds elaborate carpentry projects without plans and a mother who could reproduce any picture in oil paints, I could not draw a straight line with a ruler. So, when my Moses Scroll project was returned again. And again. And again, my mother finally did the project herself. The assignment was to illustrate Moses’ life from basket-in-the-reeds to fleeing with his people from Egypt. Each illustration had to be done in color on a separate piece of precisely measured paper. Each pane was taped together to form a scroll.

Admittedly, Sister Victor’s comment on my first attempt was accurate – “This looks like a kindergarten project.” My second and third attempts fared slightly better. Her issues with the last effort? Too many words and not enough pictures.

I always preferred the words more than the pictures.

After emerging from the bathroom with yet another upset stomach, I burst into tears and my mother took pity on me. She stayed up all night and did the scroll herself, with pastels and colored pencils, which I was certain would send Sister Victor into an artistic coma.

I was wrong.

This time, I was sent home with comments that the tape holding each pane together was crooked. My mother took the scroll, took my hand, marched me back to school and into Sister Victor’s classroom and demanded to know why sixth graders were being marked by artistic ability instead of the material. Was Moses found in a basket? Yes. Did he warn Pharaoh about the plagues that he would bring on him if the Israelites were not freed? Yes. Did he part the sea? Yes. Seems like she should get an A.

And I did!

Sadly, she was not the last mean, wicked teacher I got. That trend extended well into college and shifted to evil wicked bosses when I graduated.

But that’s a whole other blog post. :)

Are you dreading or looking forward to school starting? Tell me why! 

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