Favourite teacher was my 6th year Advanced Higher English teacher. There were only 5 of us in the class and we were all from the same friendship group, we basically spent 90% of the time just chilling out and chatting. I think he was reliving his youth
. We would just talk crap and laugh for 50 minutes of the hour and then he'd be like "****! Look at the time. Write an essay on this book. Lataz."
Also sometimes he'd pass us in the corridor at lunch and be like, "Do you guys want to not bother this afternoon? I've got marking to do so you can just go and do whatever.", so we would just hang about in the cafeteria drinking slush puppies instead. Ahhhh good times.
Honourable mention to my P4 teacher who was amazing, very supportive when my gran died when I was 8 (my mum's mum - this was essentially when my mum checked out of parenting for good and I think I was very lucky to have a quite maternal teacher at that point).
Also to my Standard Grade (S3+4, age 14-16) English teacher, a quite obvious hippie in her early 50's, she was obsessed with my creative writing and treated my like a protege. I exploited this and straight up
didn't finish, or even start a couple of the more boring pieces of coursework. I think they basically had to select a certain number for assessment and a few times I was like "I haven't found time to do this" and she would give me infinite deadlines and twice just said "You've got plenty that will get top assessed grade already, just forget it but DON'T TELL!"
Least favourite... 
well here we ****ing go! TMI coming right up.
In primary 2 (age 6) I had a horrible bully of a teacher. We're talking "Trunchbull" style here. She was awful... she would humiliate and belittle kids (6 year olds!) for taking too long with maths, not let them go to lunch, etc.
I had never really faced TOO much of her wrath because I was always slightly "ahead of average". But then...
When I was about 2 or 3, there was an accident at home when a hot iron fell on my leg. It also very slightly burned the tip of my foreskin (could have been SO much worse). Wasn't a problem for years but then my inevitably growing penis, seeking to achieve its eventual impressive length and girth, started to cause issues with scar tissue (foreskin was very tight at the tip, basically) so I had a circumcision. All fine, problem solved.
SO - For a couple of weeks after the surgery, I had to go to the toilet slightly more often. My parents explicitly told the teacher this, to let me go, and even to ask periodically if I needed to go. Hmm. So one day I go up to the desk and ask to go. Has she listened to my parents? Has she ****! She tells me that I absolutely am not allowed to go, until I have finished the maths sheet that we are doing. I practically beg, she bellows at me to sit down and finish my work. I sit down. I wet myself. I cry. My mum comes to the school and goes absolutely bat**** crazy at the woman
.
So yeah. Minor trauma. I reckon it could literally have effected my entire time at school - except that a week later we were practicing a play and some other kid pissed himself, then another kid did a cartwheel, put his hand in it, slipped and fell on his face in the puddle of piss. So my quiet under-the-table accident was completely forgotten
.
****ing bitch. I've made myself angry now. If a teacher did that to one of my kids I'd set fire to her car
And there you have it. A post where I simultaneously brag and also share my depressing motherless, foreskinless childhood. Which also gave me body shame until I found out in my teens that Americans just do it for fun! Thanks again USA
