Mine happened in my first two years of schooling. I went to M.I.T.C.H. Charter School in Tigard. The principal, Debbie Lawerence (name not changed because fuck Debbie) cared more about money than the students. Most of the teachers were the same, except Ms. Lou, the art teacher. On my first day, I started crying, like any Kindergartener would. My teacher asked me if it was because I had spelled dictionary wrong. Yes, bitch, spelling the word dictionary wrong this morning is what is making me cry during lunch. Fuck you, you unqualified dick. A few months later, I was in an afterschool program with some friends. I was playing with a boy and he pushed me back. He had his hand on my face and his pinkie had slipped into my mouth. I told my mom he slapped me. I was a pretty sheltered kid, so I had no idea that he had pushed me. I just knew people slapped faces, so that must be a slap. We set up a talk with the boy and Debbie. Debbie told me I was lying because, and I quote, "your parents never taught you taught you the difference between a push, slap, and shove?" Because of that bitch, and the others like her, I don't trust authority figures and will push myself past healthy limits of physical and mental stress to achieve perfection. Debbie, if you're reading this, fuck you. Fuck you sideways with a paddle, Fuck you slowly with a pineapple. Fuck you gently with a chainsaw. There was an article written about the shit she did. Apparently, she brought some sixth-grade girls into an office and explained a sex act to them. The article always makes me laugh, not because it's funny, but because she commented on the article, using an account with her real name on it, saying something along the lines of, "I've known Debbie for years! She would never do anything like that! Someone set her up! She loves children and has always wanted the best for them!" And yes, the other commenters ripped her a new one for that.