My freshmen English teacher hated me. A Lot.
I think the first incident with her was regarding our summer reading (1 mandatory, 2 choice books) on the first day of class. The summer before my freshman was the summer before Titanic came out in theaters. So, our mandatory reading was "A Night to Remember". Well, I had no interest in reading that book. I thought it was ridiculous of our school to try and force the commercialism of the movie on us. So instead I read 4 optional choice books (including "Gone with the Wind", that fucker is LONG) and "Catcher in the Rye" because it's my dad's favorite novel. Flash forward to the first day of class and we are discussing the reading material. I am steadfast in my choice (I know, I chose) to not read the mandatory book. My teacher says that there is going to be a test on it and do I really want to start the year off with a bad grade. I told her I wasn't worried about it, I had read these 4 other novels and "Catcher in the Rye". She seemed to get really incredulous and told me that "Catcher in the Rye" was an eleventh grade book. I looked at her and said, "Well, I can't un-read it." I also made a B on the test for "A Night to Remember".
That's probably when it started.
Another day the class was talking during the very beginning, over the announcements. Some of the "popular" girls were discussing a party that one was throwing at her house while her parents were gone, right in front of the teacher. I leaned over to my friend to quietly ask for a pencil. My teacher slammed her book down on the podium so hard almost everyone jumped. She then turned toward me and starts yelling about how she's tired of me talking during her class. I'm so confused, I look over to my friend who is holding the pencil I asked for up in the air. I point to it and say, "I was just asking for a pencil." She proceeds to berate me in front of the class over my disruptions.
The next day we come in and instead of the desks being grouped together, they are now in the normal rows. I go to sit down, she stops me and tells me that my desk is assigned. Everyone else gets to pick where they sit but my desk is in the far back corner of the class. There were at least 3 or 4 empty desks in a radius from where I'm to sit. I admit, it royally pissed me off. I was completely ostracized from the class. It also really upset me, I had an A average in her class and she always treated me like I was some disruptive delinquent. I went home and told my mom what happened and had been happening. My mom was pissed. While admittedly I am and was a smartass, I have/had always been a good student and English Lit was one of my best subjects. I told my mom that I decided if she was going to treat me like I wasn't a part of the class, then I wouldn't be, and I would color during class. My mom did not condone this in the least, but I think she understood that I wasn't a bad kid and teachers usually had nothing but nice things to say about me, so this whole deal was very unusual.
Next day, I'm coloring. My teacher walks over to me tells me that I need to put my markers away in her class. I point out that clearly her class is on the other side of the room and when she decided to make me part of her class, I'd be happy to participate. She then said, "Maybe I should just call your mother." I said, "Go ahead, do you need her number? She's already aware of our situation." She apparently, did not call my mom on that occasion.
The last really memorable incident with her ended with her actually calling my mom. In the beginning of class she would give us these writing prompts and we had x amount of time to do them. Probably 15 minutes or so. So imagine my surprise when in the thick of our animosity she makes, "What makes you angry?", the writing prompt. I furiously get to writing out my frustrations. I just never used names or gender specific pronouns. The last two lines of the paper were, "It makes me so angry when these people, who think that they are the King/Queen of the classroom, try to use psychological tactics to maintain control. I could just slap them."
Flash to me getting home that day, my mom meets me at the door, which in and of itself is not unusual. The conversation that followed was:
Mom: "So, how was school today?" (tone of I know something )
Me: "Fine." (tone of clueless)
Mom: "Anything happen?" ( I *know** something* )
Me: "No... I went, it sucked, I'm home?." (I don't know what the hell you're talking about, cause if I did, I'd have told you already )
Mom: "Nothing? Nothing happened today?" ( genuinely curious now )
Me: "No, was something supposed to have happened?" (thinking, shit, what have I forgotten now?)
Mom: "You didn't go to the principal's office today?" (so confused)
Me: "Um no, pretty sure I'd remember that." (confused too/still)
Mom: "Huh? I got a call today saying that you had threatened a teacher and that you would be called to the principal's office." (baffled.)
Me: (shocked, confused, pondering, realizing, laughing) "Oh, that's awesome. I didn't get called to the office but I bet this is what it's about..." proceed to tell her everything. Per usual, I never lied to my momma. Now, on occasion, I would tell mom what went down, and my mom would say something like, "Okay here's what we're telling your father."
This particular conversation with her ended with her saying, "You are definitely your father's daughter."
Finished Ms. Shive's English Lit class with an A. I know it burned her ass to have to write that, but I had earned it. She had accused me of cheating too, and I remember laughing at her and telling her I didn't think it was considered cheating to listen to her go over literally everything that she was going to put on the test the day before we took it. By the end of the year, we were glad to be rid of each other, I believe.
She was my preacher's wife.