Okay - the one that really stuck with me was her nickname for me, which is petty, but it's haunted me. She'd call me "demented gnat" on the regular, in class, and in front of the other kids. The first time, she told me it was because someone influential in her past (I can't remember if it was a teacher, family, or whatever) described someone as "having the attention span of a demented gnat", and that it suited me. To this goddamned day, that fucking haunts me. Neuropathic, and annoying. I'm a demented gnat. And she'd say it so fucking casually.
The program was a gifted exceptional program, and she portrayed me as being functionally learning disabled after having been introduced into her program. On my first day of that grade 5 class, I was given a spelling test that I'd failed (a first for me) - that said, the test included words like obsequiousness, antidisestablishmentarianism, and the like, when my history (and my frame of reference) was grade four spelling. She implied that I was functionally illiterate, and had me in remedial classes to that effect - not as in she scaled me back to the 'standard' curriculum that I'd been participating in before moving to her school/classes, but actually placed me in a room with baby toys in it with, and two students that had literal difficulty communicating information - the specialist handling that program returned me to my teacher's classroom, telling her specifically that I was an advanced-level reader.
I was properly medicated, at the time, and part of that included Ritalin, and Dexedrine; however, it was administered to me twenty minutes before my after-lunch class, which was phys ed. The teacher was something of a militant 1950's phys ed stereotype, and we started every class with about ten minutes of laps. I thought I was having a heart attack each time. I told my teachers (both the one handling my general education, and the phys ed teacher), and they dismissed me (I won't presume their motives, but it could have just been a presumption that I was being lazy), but there was a day I flatly thought I was going to die. I refused to run, the phys ed teacher refused to listen to me, and sent me to the office with a detention slip. My mother was called, and she drove me to the hospital - it turned out the stress was exasperating a heart-related congenital birth defect.
I ended up in a very dangerous situation where a kid twice my size ended up kicking me in the back when I was in a stairwell that was about fifteen steps high, landing on my chest on the weird 1950's flood, which was as hard as a rock. I went to the office, telling everyone loudly this happened - the principal wouldn't send an ambulance. My mother (again) had to pick me up, and drive me to the hospital.
My only reason for joining the program was because I was told explicitly that I would be allowed to pursue my curriculum however I wanted - I made my wants explicitly clear. I'd asked to start at where my grade would normally start, but to be handed whatever the next assignment was when I was complete. That's overtly how I work. She refused. I wasn't allowed to participate with the general curriculum, either - my first day in her math class involved her dropping a grade nine textbook on my desk, and telling me to start in chapter one. When that didn't work, she refused to budge on how she was going to teach math - I was going to work standard curriculum, as slowly as everyone else. Neither option was what I needed - and I wouldn't have left my French Immersion program (which had a lot of future benefits in that French Immersion certificate that comes with completion).
I asked then to be allowed to do my work by computer - the lab at the time was surprisingly state-of-the-art, with several brand new IBM machines - she also refused to let me do that. I wanted to learn how to make webpages. She flat refused, and told me to stop wasting my time.
I can think of more, but those are the ones that stand out.