Graf #2 Worst Teacher

Graf #2 Worst Teacher


All the girls thought he was cute. He was younger than the other teachers with his long, wavy hair, dark eyes and dazzling smile. There was something mysterious about him. He had a way about him none of us could figure out. We had heard “the” stories but we still couldn’t wait to get into 7th grade to have Mr. White for our history teacher.

The 8th graders warned us about his temper, the pointer stick, some of his actions in the classroom but being 12 year old girls, we couldn’t wait to stare and ogle at the cutest teacher in the entire school. Some of the older kids told us he was the coolest teacher because he would have random field trips out behind the school whenever the weather was nice. Come to find out, he had a nicotine habit and really only needed to get his fix but that’s beside the point, we still thought he was hot because he smoked.

His classroom was set up different than all the others classrooms at the school. The desks were lined up side by side in a horseshoe pattern around the entire room, except for two. Those two were pressed to the front of his desk, so close you could smell his breath. If you acted out or got a bad grade, your new assigned seat was one of those desks crammed right up front against his with your back facing the rest of the class.

Besides the odd seating arrangement, the classroom had all the necessary amenities; black board, chalk, erasers, books etc. Looking back, I remember the door was wooden with a square window in it like all the other classroom doors except this door had a shade over the window and it could be locked from the inside.

We learned early in the semester not to piss Mr. White off. All those stories about his temper and the pointer stick were coming true. We had been warned.
I can’t tell you how many of those sticks he broke that year by his violent and uncontrollable fits of rage. Then there were those other days when Mr. White was in a different mood. Whenever he got up from his desk to go lock the door and pull the shade with that look, we knew he was calling the “goon squad”. The goon squad consisted of all the male students in the classroom. He would set his chair in the middle of the horseshoe style classroom, take his pointer stick and choose his girl.

Mr. White was having one of those days. He got up from his desk and carried his chair to the center of the classroom. Slowly he went to the door, locked it and pulled down the shade. My heart was racing. I saw that look, those eyes, the smirk and it was me he was staring at! He walked back to the center of the room and sat in his chair. As usual, all the girls heads were bowed not daring to look up in hopes they wouldn’t be noticed and wishing they were invisible at that very moment. All the boys were frothing at the mouth with their eyes wide, waiting for his command. With the stick raised, he pointed it at me and yelled for the the goon squad to do their thing. I was mortified and tried to scream for help but no sound escaped my lips. I was begging the other girls to step in and help me but they didn’t dare, just like all the other times. I was hanging onto my desk for dear life, pulling it partway across the room while the boys of the “goon squad” had me by my legs. It was useless, I was pretty strong but one girl against 10 boys….you get the picture.

From all the struggling with the goon squad, my shirt came un-tucked and was practically around my head, just the way teacher liked it. I lost one of my shoes during the battle and my glasses went flying across the room. I fought back as hard as I could; kicking and squirming, arms flailing but the boys strength over came me as they dragged me to the center of the room and placed me over teachers lap. Oh my God, this is so humiliating I thought to myself, just get this over with. I turned my head slightly to look up at him with pleading eyes, please, please don’t do this to me I begged. As he smiled and raised the pointer, I had no choice but to give up. I was exhausted, he had won the battle. All the boys were hooting and hollering, egging him on. It was then I received my spanking from the teacher. I knew he was enjoying this, I could feel it while my limp body was draped over his lap. I thought I was going to die right there in front of the entire class but I didn’t. I survived the wrath of Mr. White and his distorted teaching ways, but will never forget the horror I endured in my 7th grade class that day.