Hey Hi, my lovelies! My name is Tanya Hooper and welcome to my blog TanyaTale! This is my space to share all my creative thoughts and ideas. So, if chatty posts and storytelling are your thing then you should hit that subscribe button for updates every time I post. If you are returning to my blog – welcome back!
Anyone who has been here before may have stumbled across my TaleTime series. For those of you who are new, TaleTime posts are my chance to share with you my awkward and embarrassing moments. However, today’s TaleTime is going to be a little different. Unlike the other comically embarrassing TaleTime posts, this one is a little more serious. Today I am going to share with you my worst experiences with teachers. Everyone has a story or two to share about their awful experiences with teachers – so brace yourself for the outrageous and shocking tale I am about to share.
**side-note: It turns out I am still a little bitter about my experience with this teacher. This means the post is a little longer than expected and goes off in tangents. I have tried to make it as easy as possible to follow, but if it isn’t understandable leave me a comment down below and I’ll review the way in which it’s written!**
I guess the best place to start is by telling you I never really had an issue with school. I tried to float though with as little drama and trouble as possible. All-in-all I was a pretty good student. I got my head down and work done and only ran into any trouble a handful of times … Sixth form, however, is a different story.
The sixth form I went to was attached to my school. This meant that it had the same teachers and – for the most part – the same students. So, unsurprisingly, I was expecting a similar experience to that of my secondary school… I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The first term of sixth form was difficult for me with a lot happening which set a negative tone for the rest of my experience. I fell out with my friends (which you can read about here), one of my best friends dropped out and I struggled to make new friends. On top of this I had to take 3 weeks off in the first month as I was seriously ill and so fell massively behind on my school work.
Being behind on school work was bad enough but then one of my teachers – lets call her Miss Black – fell ill. Of course, I didn’t blame her for being ill. She couldn’t help it. I even contributed to getting her flowers and a get well soon card while she was in hospital. However, my sixth form did not supply us with a cover teacher. No cover meant that I fell even further behind on my work and when it came to first year exams … I barely passed.
Luckily, Miss Black managed to pull though and survived her illness and when I returned for second year, so did miss Black. I, along with the rest of the student body, were ecstatic to see her. She had always been so lovely and seeing her recovering was a massive relief. However, in retrospect, she had come back to work too soon.
Miss Black had always been the type of teacher who was easily distracted. The type of teacher that if you got them talking about their life you could get away with not doing anything for the whole lesson. However, when she returned for my second year of sixth form she was more distracted than ever before. She spent one lesson staring out the window, and in another she broke down in tears. For the first 2 weeks back – I barely got a page of notes out of her.
Had I not missed nearly half a year of teaching and barely made it into second year, maybe this would have bothered me less. However, I am a very easily stressed out person and this situation caused my anxiety levels to hit a new high.
One lesson, after another wasted hour of teaching, I got up and walked out. I walked into the bathrooms and started to cry. I think, where I had had such a terrible first year, I wanted to finish sixth form as quick as possible and the idea of having to repeat a year made my heart race and tears well up in my eyes. After a while of me being missing a friend was sent to check on me. When she found me in such a state – she walked me to the head of sixth forms office, so I could have a place to calm down.
After a while of crying, the head of sixth form asked me what was wrong, and I told him. I told him that since the beginning of the year I hadn’t even managed to fill a page with the information she had given me and that she wasn’t teaching.
I know what you’re thinking … I’m a snitch. And I guess I am. But I needed to pass my exams. I needed to get into university and out of my sixth form.
Following my complaint, I was interrogated. And I do mean INTERROGATED. When I said I hadn’t even managed to write a whole page of notes, I was asked if I was paying attention. When I said she spent the lesson staring out a window, I was asked why I wasn’t doing a task (which she hadn’t set). Everything I said was turned back on me. As if I was a poor student, rather than her being a poor teacher.
The following week all of Miss Blacks lessons were observed and her students were interviewed. Now, obviously when anyone is being observed by a supervisor they are going to do their job and if the interviews they conducted with the other students were anything like mine, any complain a student made would have been turned on themselves. I was fighting a losing battle from the start.
Following my complaint, I received a handful of texts from other students thanking me for doing something when no one else would. I even got one text from a girl (I’m going to call her Lola) telling me she was going to get her mum to put in a complaint as well. I felt supported … for a whole two minutes.
The next day I went to sixth form and something was different. My “hellos” were ignored in the halls. The seat next to me in every class was now empty. People were whispering and pointing and making comments. Everyone, including those who had messaged me the night before, had turned on me. That night there was a video posted online by Lola bitching about me and the other 2 girls who had complained. Threatening us.
The following weeks were horrible. I could count the number of people who would speak to me on my fingers. Everything that happened was petty. Online rants, being ignored, being added to group chats just to be deleted, people bitching about us around every corner. But small petty things add up. It hurt. But I knew kids would be kids … they bitch, and they forget … id get over it … until Miss Black joined in.
So, here’s where the story really begins.
Miss Black had begun small – making snide comments here and there. Which turned to making comments to classes I wasn’t even in. To sitting and gossiping with students as if she was a teen herself. But I didn’t really care. I’d complained about her teaching and she had taken it personally. It upset me, but I understood. That was, until she took it too far.
A few weeks after everything had happened. There was a parents evening. My mum and I attended and had a meeting with Miss Black. During this meeting my mum was overly nice to this teacher. She tried to explain that my complaint hadn’t been personal. They even laughed and joked together. I genuinely left the meeting convinced things would return to normal. Boy was I wrong.
The next day people were worse than ever. There were more rants online, people making comments and the whispering was back. I had no idea why.
For my final lesson of the day I had Miss Black. I walked into class and sat with the two other girls who were receiving the same hate as I was. I’d not even been sat down a minute before someone told me why everyone was whispering. A rumour had begun to circulate claiming my mum had verbally abused Miss Black, reducing her to tears after we had left.
At first, I thought it was just a rumour a student had started. Afterall I to this day do not know for sure who started it. But I didn’t blame Miss Black. Until one lesson where I watched her let the rumour spread. Later, the same day a friend told me she’d been telling her students in his class about it too. She was not only condoning such a rumour to spread but she was spreading it herself.
Not too long after it had begun to spread I put an end to it. In front of everyone I asked her if it was true – on the pretence that if it was I wanted to apologise – and she confirmed that it wasn’t true and that in fact my mum had been lovely to her.
The rest of the year was difficult. Teachers who were friends with her treated me like shit – another taletime to come on that later – and she herself didn’t quit making digs and comments for the rest of the year.
I got through it and got a decent grade in the end. So, before I end this tale time I’d like to say “YOU’RE WELCOME” to Lola and everyone else who bitched about me. Because following my complaint she started teaching. Which is why we all passed.
I hope you sort of enjoyed this and didn’t find my bitterness too off putting. To anyone considering going to sixth form do not let my one bad experience put you off. Without it I wouldn’t be at university having the time of my life so I 100% recommend it … just not the one I went to lol. If you want to see some more stories like this one be sure to like and subscribe! I post here every Friday at 7pm and so until next week, see you later!