can you imagine though
you send your enemies a rather large amount of these in various sizes. you leave no return address or explanation. they open all the boxes to discover these wondrous pillows. they are reluctant to keep them but eventually they give in and integrate them into their home like the above pictures. after a few weeks or even months, theyve gotten accustomed to having them in their home and routinely relax in a large pile of the odd pillows. until one night you just take every single one back and replace them with actual rocks of the same dimensions so that when its time for them to relax and unwind from their day day fall into a pile of hard unmoving boulders. they break their spine and are paralyzed. you have won
What the fuck is wrong with you…
My 7 year old son was shot down by his 1st grade teacher
The american public education system in a nutshell tho
My third grade teacher actually had a conversation with my mom that I was reading to well and told her to stop having me read at home
My first grade teacher said that it was problematic that I was reading ahead of the rest of the kids in my grade and asked my parents to stop letting me read Harry Potter.
My fourth grade teacher thought it was wrong for my dad to be teaching me complex math because it fascinated me.
My elementary school music teacher hated the way my piano teacher taught me, and how I was more advanced than many of her students, and so told me, in front of my peers and my mother, that I was not good enough to participate in the state solo festival. She would not give me the form. We had to procure it from the district instead. She also hated how I excelled at reading and playing music for the recorder, and so she refused to give me my “belts” (colored beads to signify our level) and humiliated me in front of the class repeatedly.
My eighth grade algebra teacher used to fail me on take home tests because I didn’t solve problems exactly the way she showed us in class; I used methods that we had learned for other types of problems that also applied to these. She took points off my tests because I didn’t bring a calculator even though I got 100% without it, because I was able to do it by hand. I had to call my father, who is an engineer, down to the school to shout her down and give me back my A in the class.
My 10th grade Spanish teacher yelled at me in front of the class numerous times because she didn’t like the way I took notes; she thought that since I didn’t write every word off the slide, I wasn’t getting it all down. I had to explain to her that people who have taken advanced courses, like AP or IB classes, know that in a fast-paced learning environment you need to take quick shorthand notes that contain the necessary information rather than wasting time writing every word. She almost gave me detention.
My 11th grade English teacher gave me a poor mark on my first short essay because she believed that I was looking up unnecessarily complex words in a thesaurus to try and get better marks. The phrases in question: “laced with expletives” and “bombarded”. She wouldn’t hear any defense from me.
My 11th grade history teacher failed me on an essay about the 1950s because I misread the prompt. Except the prompt wasn’t words; it was a political cartoon. One of the figures was clearly president Eisenhower, but the other I couldn’t place. My teacher would not tell us who it was. I labelled him as the governor of Little Rock Arkansas during the integration period, and wrote an essay about that subject. My teacher said that no, it was Joseph McCarthy, and that there was a small picture of the man in our textbook and therefore I should have recognized him instantly. Half the class, apparently, did not.
The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.
"The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win."
My firth grade English teacher pulled me out of class and made me cry because I got a perfect score on a reading assignment test. She told me that it was impossible to get a 100 without cheating because some of the answers were “too advance” for a fifth grader to understand and to learn it from the book we were reading. The quiz was on Where The Red Fern Grows, my favorite book.
Somewhere a rocket scientist brain surgeon physicist with a knack for economics who wears Velcro shoes is having a stress breakdown.
When I was a professional ballroom dance instructor, one of my coworkers was having a tough time teaching a step to her student. As he gets more frustrated she tells him “it’s ok- you’ll get it- this isn’t rocket science.”
There is an awkward pause as her student stares back at her.
"No" he agrees, "this isn’t rocket science. That I can do. This is some sadistic step designed specifically to torture rocket scientists.”
And that’s how we found out he worked for NASA.