Fun Stuff > CHATTER
Schoolyard Stories
I is Grammar:
I used to love playing knuckle fuckers. I am fairly certain that's not what we called it, but game is the same. My friends and I would play "Hits," where you go around and punch eachother once as hard as you can in the shoulder. Whoever gives up first is the loser. We had spectacular bruises.
In middle school, I had no friends. I would read during break and lunch. Our school was small enough that it was very easy to find an empty table to sit at by yourself. There were these two girls (Andrea and Katie - damn them to hell) who used to pick on me daily. They would slam my head against the lockers, shove crap in my locker (there were no locks on them), tell lies about me to the head of school, laugh at me, and all around make my life miserable. So, 8th grade rolls around, and I'm starting to get a head on my shoulders. A rumor had started going around the school that Andrea and Katie were drinking in the bathroom. I popped my head into the lady's room, and sure enough, there they were with a bottle of Jack. I chilled out in the computer lab across the hall and waited for them to come out. I followed them to the edge of the woods and watched them try to light the woods on fire. While it was raining. A little birdie tipped off the middle-school head, and they were expelled by the next day.
In 10th grade, I had a crap english teacher/advisor/upper-school head. Her name was Ms. Pont. (She referred to herself as the "Pontessa.") Words can not express how much I hated the pompous ass of a woman. She got very upset at me during english class when I would correct her on her grammar and spelling (which happened a lot). One day, she was just being her pretentious self, and it was getting on my nerves, and on the nerves of my friend Ashton. The two of us, during lunch (while she was teaching an AP class), went to the lower foyer, grabbed a huge wooden fish statue, carried it up the stairs and through the media center, and propped it up in her chair behind her desk in her office. We then planted ourselves in the media center to wait for the impending explosion when she found it. Sure enough, she walked into her office halfway through class. We heard, "What the fucking hell?!" and then saw her run out into the media center, look around with a frenzied gleam in her eye, and run down the stairs to the commons. We were never ratted out, so she could never prove it was us. But she knew. Other teachers (who hated her as much as we did) saw us carrying the fish didn't say anything.
Oh the joys of little private schools.
In 11th grade, I switched to a public school. There was one girl, Carla, who was one of those "I hate gays and blacks and anyone who isn't like me" girls. She was all ready to be friends with me until I told her that I wouldn't go to church with her and her family. After that, she decided she hated me with a passion. Now keep in mind, by 11th grade, I was done putting up with shit from other students. I could actually stand up for myself by then. So, to get at me, Carla started going after my gay friend Thomas. She would go up to him in the hallways and call him nasty names and threaten to hurt him. Thomas would tell me about it later on in the day, and it would really make me mad. After school, we both had the same place we went to go have a smoke before various afterschool activties. (I had tennis, theater, or GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance). She had FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America) or FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes).) I walked up to Carla, cold-cocked her in the jaw, and explained to her that she wasn't going to pick on Thomas any more. As I was walking away, she grabbed me by the throat and put me into a head-lock. It was a clumsy one (because she was a stupid bitch who didn't know how to fight) so I just elbowed her in the solar plexus and kept walking away. She stopped picking on Thomas after that.
Wow that was a longer post than I had intended. I have all kinds of stories from grade school.
ledhendrix:
We called that Russian knuckles, no idea where the name came from. I never played it cause it really does fuck your knuckles up. Sometimes people would end up bleeding all over the place.
öde:
In secondary school we stopped playing games like those and just started straight up fighting.
Paav:
My Freshman year in high school I had the craziest most entertaining teacher I would ever have. He taught Civics and Geography, two subjects that are not always the most interesting. However, Mr. Roeber managed to keep them from getting too stale. He liked to jump up on the stool and use a giant pointer as a conductors wand pointing at people to demand answers, some people hated him for this because he did tend to put you on the spot. There are two specific things I will never forget that he did while I was in his class.
First: He was a stickler for the rules and one that the school had just passed that year or the previous one was to ban the wearing of baggy pants. What this meant wasn't exactly clear but if your pants were hanging off your ass your would probably get harassed. My school had students for office aides they would go around and collect attendence sheets and do other things for a period. Well, the office aide that came by my class always wore his pants a little low and Mr. Roeber would give him crap about it pretty much every day. The one day Mr. Roeber asked the kid why his pants were so low.
"They're too big for me," replies the kid.
"Why don't you wear a belt?"
"I am wearing a belt"
"Why don't you tighten it a notch or two?"
"It's at the tightest notch."
"Let me see that," says Mr. Roeber. So the kid lifts his shirt to show his belt which is on the tightest notch. "I can fix that," Mr. Roeber says. He then proceeds to have the kid take off his belt and make sure to hold his pants up properly. Roeber then takes a screw driver from his desk and uses it to punch a new notch in the belt, hitting the screw driver with a book. He then has the kid put the belt on and makes sure it holds his pants up at the proper level.
Second: We were having a study hall at the beginning of the second semester and everyone was told to do work for another class, read a book, write, or do something else that did not involve talking. So all of us students were dutifully sitting quietly and focusing on something else. Mr. Roeber was at the back of the room stapling some stuff together and you could hear that he was having some problems. Bang Bang...mumble mumble...Bang Bang. Then all of a sudden something went whizzing from the back of the room to crash against the black board at the front. He had just chucked the stapler from his desk and destroyed it. Mr. Roeber then went on a diatribe about how the school district bought nothing but cheap junk and could save a ton of money if they would just buy more expensive staplers and other products that would last longer than six months. I don't think he threatened to burn the building down but it wouldn't have surprised me.
The reaction of all the students to these episodes was absolute silence followed by internal commitments to never cross Mr. Roeber.
ThePQ4:
--- Quote from: Anyways on 10 Jan 2008, 10:18 ---the guy that whipped had a really rough-textured, stiff towel, and somehow he managed to wrap it between the other guys' legs from behind, and actually managed to whip his balls. The guy just collapsed. He went home from school that day, and when he came back the day after he told us he'd gotten a bruise that bled from it.
--- End quote ---
Aaaaah, I don't even have -balls- but that makes me hurt just thinking about it. Sooo glad I was born a girl all of a sudden.
Anyway, another story about the stupidity of my classmates: We were cooling down after a bit of running by stretching in the gym floor or something...when all of a sudden one of my classmates by the nickname "Boomer" (so named because apparently he had slept around aplenty before he moved to our town, even though we were only like 7th graders) walked up to one of the teachers, CHOKING ON A FIREBALL (as in the candy, sillies). Apparently whilst we had been running, the idiot hadn't spit out his candy and ended up swallowing it, except it was to big to swallow so it was lodged in his throat. My Gym teacher attempted the hiemlich, and I think he got it out, but they still had to call and ambulence and take him to the hospital. After that year, we never saw him -again-. He became homeschooled and actually lived a few trailers down from my best friend in the trailer park.
I shall have to find the notebook with all of the stupid quotes from another classmate. She had a habit of asking dumb questions such as, "Did girls in the middle ages wear bras?" and "Wow, these civil war guys were brave --do you think any of them still live around here?" Aaaaaah!!!
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