The War Against Teachers

Ban teacher tenure.

     If it is anything I learned about teachers it is that they think they can treat students how they wish. When I was in Mrs. Slagles class, I was told that she can treat her students the same way she treats her child. It made me think social services should go to her house because she was probably beating her daughter. In most cases, teachers try to play the doctor simply because they have a degree.

     Some people wonder why teachers are being attacked. I know that good teachers exist, but some teachers are not being teachers. I think that after many generations, people understand what teachers do behind the scenes. They can no longer lie to parents about what they do when the children are dropped off at the front door.

     Thanks to social media, society can see the trouble people are making. School bullying is posted online. Teachers and students treating others poorly. Teachers spy on their students, now parents can spy on the teachers.

     What I have seen does not surprise me. For example, a parent recorded a teacher mentally abusing his autistic son. The teacher behaved in such a mortifying manner. I'm certain that the teacher is working at another school because of what we call teacher tenure.

     I think my first experience was when I was in Mrs. Paulick's class. I was so doped on on medication, I can hardly remember. Classmates would gang up on me just about every day and call me Cry Baby. I told my teacher every single time they did it. On one occassion, she decided to chime in on the chant. "Jennifer's a cry baby." My trust for teachers was completely diminished. It never stopped there.

      Mrs. Slagle was my special education teacher at Emmett High School. She had a short temper and spoke negatively about her daughter. Every so often, we would get into an argument. I do not remember what triggered one that had my father talking to the faculty, but it was pretty bad.

     I got into an argument with Mrs. Slagle about something. I cannot remember if it was about an assignment or life in general. I was just sitting at my desk and I probably decided to quit answering her. Since I was ignoring her, she came up to me and jabbed my in the shoulder really hard many times. "Huh? Huh?" she yelled and jabbed really hard.

    I had witnesses to the situation. I complained to the principle. There was a meeting with them and my father.  Despite the fact that other students saw what she did, everyone took Mrs. Slagle's word over mine because I was the minor. I learned then that I needed to fight my own battles because I was going to be on my own no matter what.

     Then my mother kicked me out and forced me to live with my father who lived in Boise. I never got along with my mother, or my father for that matter. I never got along with my stepfather, which lead me to being kicked out. Before I moved, teachers told me what a good school Borah High School was. When I began attending Borah, I realized that teachers are liars.

     For starters, I was doing average going to Emmett High School. I flunked biology and took it in summer school. When I went to summer school, I took a course that taught me how to write resumes and search for college. The college bit did not feel significant to me because I never wanted to see school again after graduation. I felt that I would face the same abuse in college as school.

     When I attended Borah, I realized how biased Idaho is. I tried not to have anything to do with anyone for that reason. Because I was from a small town, I was a hick. Because I was from a small town, I was only taught how to farm. Because I was in special education, I supposedly had short-term memory and that entitled teachers to treat me like crap.

     I had to put up with the ignorance of the vice principle and teachers. There was one English teacher in particular who was arrogant and ignorant. I had to listen to my African American teacher in special education spout off her black pride garbage. The vice principle was another piece of crap who assumed I was suicidal.    

     I always checked in at the office to let people know things are going fine or if a teacher was giving me trouble. Every single time I was there, the vice principle always said, "I'm afraid that one of these days you are going to kill yourself." or "One of these days, you will threaten suicide." Each and every single time, he always said that. It was as though he anticipated it. He hoped for a student to commit suicide. Did he get a bonus every time a student committed suicide?  

     The English teacher was always starting crap. I would tell him that another student is hassling me, he would start a fight with me and send me to the principles office. That was where I always got a suicide lecture.

     My African American teacher had the brass to call me a minority. Right then and there, my racism was born. She was always starting fights with me. Because of her, I sat with all of the disabled students in art. I got fed up with it.  When I got in a fight with her; off to the principle's office I went.

     In addition to this, I was discriminated when it came to classes. I wanted to be in the drama class. Since it was my Junior year, the teacher would not let me because I was not in his other drama class. I did not want to be in the English class because of the teacher. Not only that, I supposedly was not going to be in anymore English classes because of my Creative Writing class in Emmett. Since I moved, I did not have that offer anymore. It was as though I was sent to prison for getting in a scuffle.

     The best part of going to Borah was being treated as though I was simple. I already took a class to write resumes. They attempted to make me take it again. I saw that it was the same exact program I used before and I told them I already did this. Their rebutal verbatim was (as they snickered), "They only teach you how to farm in the one in Emmett." This hacked me off.

      I cannot remember if it happened at this point or when the English teacher was a jerk again, I went to the principle one last time. I think it would have been convienient to be able to press charges for assault and battery. I gave the vice priniciple the satisfaction, just to make him shut up. I wanted him to stop telling me that I was suicidal.

     He was giving me that talk again, "One of these days you will come in here threatening suicide." Like he did every single time. I said in a dry tone, "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to kill myself." Next thing that happened was an officer was in the room in what appeared to be a meeting. He gave me a line of crap and they both spoke to me in a condescending tone.

     The officer said he was bringing me in for an evaluation. I disagreed and he continued to argue with me until I did agree. I began to stand and this officer grabbed me and drug me out of the school while I screamed at him to let me go and that I already agreed to go with him. He refused and I started to scream profanities and rape.

     I spent the night at the mental hospital. I wanted the officer and the vice principle to rot in hell. The most crooked thing that could happen happened. Nobody cared about my side of the story. People are so judgemental without asking any questions. I finally realized that my mother never believes a word I say. It was as though the entire family anticipated that I was suicidal.

     My co-workers from the Reel Theater came to visit me. I had to go in to work that night, but plans changed. One of my aunts called and lecture me that it would be greedy of me to kill myself. Even though I protested that was not the case, nobody listened to me.

     When I got out the next day, I ended up with the bill. Nobody came to pick me up and I had to take a cab home. Much to my horror, I discovered my mom wasn't even listening to me. She told my father to revoke my privilages to drive. I was the one paying the bill and I wasn't even suicidal. I did not have a car to drive and nobody was listening to me. There was only one thing left to do.

     I withdrew the money my father was giving me from social security. I had $1,200 saved up and became my mother's worst nightmare. I bought my first car. She was not happy and there was nothing she could do about it. It was my money and she did not live in Boise. Dad didn't do anything about it because, well, they were not married anymore. Dad was in charge and I was under his roof. Like I said, parents will fight for the attention of their children when they divorce. This would not be the last time I defied my mother.

     Later on, after high school, my father and I were shopping at the mall for Christmas. We ran into my English teacher. He treated me as though I had no brain, "Do you remember me?" I just grinned and nodded and kept my mouth shut. I hated him with a passion and had a few choice words for him.