Share Your School Stories - Weirdos, freaks, and idiots (self-inclusion optional)

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One time, my friend's mom accidentally packed her the wrong sandwich, and she gave to me. Suddenly, we had an impromptu assembly, and had to leave the cafeteria. I brought the sandwich with me, and proceeded to eat it in full-view of the teachers, principal, other students, etc. No one said anything, not even when the school newspaper proceeded to take a picture of it happening.

That picture not only ended up in the school newspaper, but also in the yearbook, so now among all the regular photos of school life, and presentations, and shit, there's just some random photo of some lanky, tweaker-looking, messy-haired, pajama-dressed weirdo eating a sandwich in the auditorium during an assembly.
I'm just imagining Noctis eating a sandwich in an auditorium and I can't stop giggling.

One of the most miserable jobs on Earth: being the janitor who has to clean up these bathrooms.
I think back to the one janitor in elementary school, a sweet old man named Eugene (wouldn't be surprised if he was a European immigrant, he kinda had a wheezy accent), and I can't help feeling very sorry for him having to clean up such a mess.

EDIT: Actually, he was from Wisconsin, which explained his accent. Found his obituary; he served in the Korean War for the AIr Force.

:semperfidelis:
 
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One of the most miserable jobs on Earth: being the janitor who has to clean up these bathrooms.
I personally believe that whoever makes an intentional mess in the bathrooms, have repeat offenders HELP the janitors clean as a detention or ISS punishment.
 
Kids started to dare each other to look in the bathroom. It was disgusting, the toilet was a literal void of piss and shit that reeked. One motherfucker decided to go in the bathroom and document it. I still have the video, if anyone wants to see it for some reason.
Goddamn, whoever that kid is must've had a mother who took up a pair of hedge clippers and went to town on his hair.
 
I personally believe that whoever makes an intentional mess in the bathrooms, have repeat offenders HELP the janitors clean as a detention or ISS punishment.
In our school, janitors did the weekly sweeping and disinfection, but actually removing the dirt fell to the children. We never got proper equipment (nor proper warning to get some from home, because people would call in sick if we did) and had to do it with school-provided smelly rotten rags and any sharp implements we could scrounge (typically knives and double-edged safety razor blades - no handles, just the blades). For eighth grade's last school day, when they'd announce the final grades for the year (5.0 GPA haha lol), I wore a pastel-colored jacket, a nice flowery puffy dress and high heels, and had to collect dog shit and cigar butts at the soccer field dressed like that in 35 degrees heat.

What was I saying? Oh right, this never actually deterred anyone from shitting up the school. Maybe it was because the cleaning duty was applied indiscriminately (I think the few boys caught pissing on the floor actually were made to clean the restrooms though), but children would cut their fingers with a dirty razorblade scrubbing hardened gum off chairs and proceed to stick new gum to chairs the following week.
 
When we did tennis for gym, a pal and I saw the weird kid pretend his racquet was a shotgun and go through the motions of loading a shell, aiming at the gym coach, shooting, pumping out the shell, relaoad, etc.
 
We had a place in the school under a nearby bridge where we'd all go to smoke cigarettes, weed and other shit like that and at one point someone decided to vandalize it with stuff like "HEIL HITLER" and "SATAN" and pentagrams and other shit so it turned into a minor local scandal, as if there was some serious Nazi movement in town.
 
One kid from high school took the mop from the custodian's office one time and started harassing students with it. Those mops were years old, you KNOW they would smell. They would sneak up on a student and just brush them with it. Typically during a crowded period, lunchtime.

I don't know what happened to him after that. I saw it happen; I would just walk away.
 
I had these two black kids who would harass me. One of them would flick me in the ears from behind and then when I'd turn around they'd accuse each other of having done it so I couldn't retaliate. And then they'd accuse me of calling them niggers. So eventually I just did.
 
The very first school I attended was one for children with various physical and mental handicaps. I was a difficult child; playschools couldn't deal with me and circumstances surrounding my birth may have led one to believe that such an enviroment would be suitable.

I remember that there was a boy who had epilepsy and had to wear a helmet. Often we would be sitting in class or in the dining hall and he'd start fitting - his head would slam on to the table repeatedly and he'd tremble violently while the teachers and assistants would try to hold him to stop him from hurting himself during his seizures.

We would all just watch silently as this happened and then ask him if he was okay once the fitting had subsided.

He's probably dead now. I remembered that he liked to call me "Wee-Wee" for fun. I remember the big grin on his face as he called me by that nickname.

There was also a girl who I was good friends with who had a tendency to start crying at the slightest upset. Loud noises, wrong answers to questions, any slightly stressful situation and the tears would start flowing. I'm not sure what her problem was. Sometimes the teachers would say to her "No, don't cry. Stop that" as though she was doing something bad but I think even they knew how ineffective that was.

She was a softly-spoken, very sensitive girl and I can recall times when she'd actually be quite cheerful.

And then there was the scary red-headed girl. She had anger issues and would throw massive tantrums, screaming as loud as she could and kicking on the floor. I actually tried adopting her tactic one day; I can't even remember what got me upset but indeed, her method wasn't exactly effective.

Not long after she arrived I pissed her off and got into a fight with her. I can still picture her pale freckly face contorted in anger and her wonky teeth clenched as she gripped my arms.

Despite some disturbing events I witnessed, I also have many good memories of the place and enjoyed my time there. When I was 7 my parents decided to transfer me to a regular primary school.
 
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In fifth grade, probably around the time we were reading The Secret of NIMH, a bee had come into the classroom after lunch, buzzed around much to some of the students' displeasure, and then disappeared like on top of or behind the TV. I stared at the TV the rest of the day waiting to see if it would come back out, but it never did. I was convinced it died there (if it hadn't left in a different route or entered some portal), so for the rest of the school year I would once a day just look over at the TV and think "Is that bee decomposing up there?" I was too small too check up there even though I was curious, but that fleeting moment stuck with me for some reason.

Better that than being in kindergarten freaking out over bees on the playground and running like hell to the classroom when we were supposed to all be lined up like the teacher wanted.
 
You ever look back at your childhood and think "wait. . .was I the bully?" And realize that yes, you were.
 
In eighth grade, my then-boyfriend showed me a closet under the stairs used as a shrine by the children - they'd write rhymed prayers and magical sigils on the walls, leave notes and whatnot (I didn't ask further and he didn't comment). I remember a drawing, in permanent marker, of a dragon flying out of the school, and the word FREEDOM. (It was a distinctive building. Our history teacher - a female one, not the guy who stopped the yellow flood - said the USSR bought the architectural plans for these schools from Cuba. "What are Cuba's main exports? That's right, cigars and school building plans.")

When I finished school and went to uni, one of the students there was a debate club leader at the school and invited me to the club to hang out after hours with the other club leaders. I took a walk around the school and went to the shrine again, the second time ever. The building had been renovated over the summer. The closet was used to store broken desks so I couldn't even walk in, the walls had been painted over and no trace of its past use remained. Standing there in the doorway, I made an outlandish (interpersonal) wish that I thought would be utterly awesome and turn my life around (no, not to lose my virginity). It came true in two years and was sad and pointless.
 
You ever look back at your childhood and think "wait. . .was I the bully?" And realize that yes, you were.
I was rather ineffective at being the bully given my size and hyperactive attitude, but I had some anger issues. So sometimes throughout elementary I'd throw or kick stuff at other kids when I got mad enough, like the time I kicked sand in a boy's eyes for making me mad over something, and I sat pouting in the principal's office refusing to apologize for it even when Mom was called up. I'd also join in in making fun of some weird kids behind their backs 'cause my friends were doing it, but I never really liked it guess 'cause deep down, I knew I was weird, too. If I was teased behind my back for it, I wasn't aware of it or just didn't let it bother me, but guess being small and cute was like a protective measure or something as it'd meant they'd look like jerks for doing so.
 
You ever look back at your childhood and think "wait. . .was I the bully?" And realize that yes, you were.
In kindergarten I was so mean to my friend. I put that shitty bark stuff down his shirt.
 
In kindergarten I was so mean to my friend. I put that shitty bark stuff down his shirt.
You ever push it too far? I remember that look one of my friends got. We had this "game" that basically consisted of just whipping tennis balls at each other in the face and similar shit, sort of a variant of smear the queer, but once I whipped it into his face really really hard and hit him in the nose and he got this "you went way too far bitch" look on his face and I ran away and hid from him for days.
 
You ever look back at your childhood and think "wait. . .was I the bully?" And realize that yes, you were.
It was mostly true for my school that most kids who took it also dealt it. Some would get bullied and pranked more than others, sure, but even them would still participate bullying someone else, it was a very democratized system of harasement and cruelty where no ony was truly fully innocent. The very wimpiest and most fragile kids were probably the ones that got bothered the less by bullies though, i think because they were simply so out of the game that no one bothered to target them and remained mostly invisible and spared from the worst abuse.

I personally never considered myself a bully but looking back, i was quiet and good student but i also liked being edgy jokester so i am sure at least someone must remember me as a cruel asshole who hurt them at some point, kids say and do the meanest things and then completely forget about them, an offhanded comment i made or a nickname i came up with probably made someone else cry.

When i was older i told one of my friends at uni something silly like "hey, so when are you going to invite me to your slum?" and she fucking started crying and sobbing taht she lived in no slum, i felt so bad, i din't mean anything by it and wasnt being mean, like, i literally could have said "come visit my slum" if i invited her over to my home ,as it was just me being playful, it was only joking but apparently she didn't come from the best background , she had lived in an actual slum so that comment cut her.
It was ok, i appologized and we stayed friends, i was more careful with that stuff though, I looked like a spoiled classist retard.
 
The very wimpiest and most fragile kids were probably the ones that got bothered the less by bullies though, i think because they were simply so out of the game that no one bothered to target them and remained mostly invisible and spared from the worst abuse.
I remember we had a sort of code of conduct where you didn't bully actual retards, and cripples, and things like that. The only bullying I really regretted was when I was just absolutely awful to a teacher who I actually liked and saw her crying later. I felt absolutely awful about that. I resolved never to bully anyone again unless I'd actually enjoy watching them crying. I've kept to that since then.
 
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