What was your worst & best experiences in public school?

Question

I have thought of writing a book about the worst and best experiences people had in public schools. All I need are people to contribute stories for me to compile. No teachers names, no students names, no school name. Just the story. I do need to know what grade. Let me know what you want to be know as the name in the book and if you want the city and/or state You may remain anonymous. Thanks for your help with this. J.

Answer 1

The best for me ...

I was in an advanced art programs throughout school, it was what you'd call a magnet program I guess. And I wasn't happy in my art classes. The three vultures who ran the art department seemed to think that only post-mod abstract was actually art. So anyone who wasn't into painting replicas of soup cans and splattering paint onto a canvas got a rough time of it in class.

Among the many, nearly endless abstract art assignments we were required to put together a scene of the school and use opposite colors. This was coming fresh off having to use oils to render found objects in opposite colors and about several other 'opposite colors' projects. Opposite colors being - if it's a green plant it gets colored red on canvas.

So, pissed off I took my board and paper and brushes to a far flung corner of the school. I sat to work and produced a good drawing of my corner of campus. It came time to color and while working I realized hey - let's paint the school on fire! So I did.

I painted the school on fire.

Turned the project in and totally expected to get hell for it.

A few weeks went by while the teachers reviewed and graded the work. Mine never came back and I was informed by a very happy teacher that mine was just great - such perfect use of my watercolors in creating the piece that it was going into a district art show.

The district art show culled work from all over the school district for display. The opening night was kinda a big affair. Several schools, students and their families, the teachers, the district big wigs. And my painting of the school on fire.

As my parents were getting ready to go I feigned illness and stayed home. No one had yet realized my opposite color painting of the school campus has actually been rendered to show the school on fire. Not little fire either. Big fire. Lots of smoke.

The only ones who ever realized what I had done was my folks, and I didn't get in trouble either. They liked the quality of the work and understood that I was getting frustrated with the lack of quality teaching in the class.

But that painting of the school on fire hung up in the district art show, then in the front hall of the school for the rest of the year.

Answer 2

Best-
When i went to my first Winter Ball..i got to pick out my first formal dress and i got to look all made up and beautiful. It was the best experience of my life...at the certain event i ended up making out with my best friends boyfriend! (yikes) but we were cool after it happend. I had a wonderful night! I will always cherish and remember it. It was my sophmore year in high school.

Worse-
I loved slides when i was younger and i remember that got brand new pants to wear to school and i wanted to get on the slide during recess while me and my friends were playing. Well my best friend at the time got into the slide with me and we both went down the slide at the same time. As we both were going down the slide...my pocket sides were sticking out and there was a bolt sticking out at the bottom of the slide and my pocket got caught on the bolt and tore my pants a lil and my friend came down with my and she pushed me more which made the little tear be a huge RIP! I had to walk down the halls with ripped pants to the nurses office get new pants. Everyone saw me with my pants all ripped. It was so embarrassing! After i got my new pair of pants to wear home for the day i was late to class and everyone knew what had happend. Man was i upset that day! lol

location: Little Rock, Arkansas. You can use my first name Lauren if u would like.
Hope this helped! Thanks<3

Answer 3

i only went 2 a public skool for 2 months, then i changed to a private. the reason was that they didn't tell me anything the first day. I didn't even eat lunch because no on e ever told me that I had to pay for my own lunch (i went to a daycare where they gave me my food and my parent's paid for it with the tuition). They never told me I was supposed to be in after school care, so i stayed waiting for my parents until 6 outside. I came from a spanish speaking family and they didn't want to put me in french class because no one in my house could help me with my french homework, so they put me in spanish (which was boring because spanish was my first language). It was pretty traumatizing (I was only in 2nd grade and the smallest in my class). well that's my story, hope it helps

Answer 4

Worst: By the time I reached grade seven I had already learned some of the hardest lessons life can throw at a person. My mother was raising me on welfare and I was ostracized my students and teachers alike because of it. I had been bullied, sometimes brutally, always cruelly, since the first grade and it was really starting to take its toll. I was overweight, I always wore all black, I smoked, I wasn't involved in any activities, and I thought about suicide. A lot.
My teacher that year was particularly vicious. He sometimes contacted my mother to tell her that I was at school bragging about stealing money from her purse and waving around 20 dollar bills. My mother, who was often too drunk to know the difference, would inevitably fly off the handle and "have me removed" from the apartment for another 2 week stint in emergency foster care. You'd think 2 weeks in a loving, caring home would be a respite from the likes of her. Think again. Each and every home seemed worse than the last one. Foster parents, in my hometown anyway, were creepy, violent, dirty, and oftentimes there would be 10 or 12 of us crammed into a tiny bedroom. I remember one home in particular that housed several special needs children, including one boy who shrieked at the top of his lungs all night long and flung his own feces around. I never had to share a room with him, but I can still hear his screaming in my nightmares. I digress.

My classmates were bullies of the worst kind. By the tender age of twelve I'd been beaten, sometimes severely, endured sexual assaults from 3 different students over the years, taunted, had everything I owned stolen, and been on the receiving end of probably 2 dozen death threats. One boy in particular spent every waking moment thinking of ways to make my life hell. I'll never forget his name or his face as long as I live. He was a good little Jehovah boy who lived with his parents and grandmother in a quaint little blue house. He had a good upbringing and should have, for all intents and purposes, been a good kid. He was psychotic. I feared him above all others because there seemed to be no limits to his cruelty and brutality. One sunny afternoon things came to a swift and violent head when I was bouncing a tennis ball against the school wall. Out of nowhere, this boy came up from behind me, grabbed me by my neck and arm and dragged me over to the wall where he beat my head against it for several minutes. My glasses shattered, blood poured down into my face, my vision doubled and then quadrupled. He finally threw me onto the ground where I swayed on all fours, heaving and sobbing. Several students gathered around laughing and pointing, calling me vile names and throwing dirt at me. I finally stood up and put my broken glasses on my face. One lense was intact enough that I saw the yard supervisor standing with her back to the action. I stumbled over to her and told her I needed help. She turned away from me again. I screamed at her and she dragged me up to the office and threw me into a chair.

I spoke with the vice principal who told me I should do more to try and fit in and I wouldn't get picked on so much. I should wear prettier clothes and act like a young lady instead of a vampire (those were his exact words). I thanked him for his profound insight (those were my exact words) and asked if I could use the phone. I called the police and said I needed to report an assault. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the VPs face pale. A male and female officer showed up at the school about 10 minutes later. The VP ushered them into his office and I was told to wait in the hallway. They came out and listened to me side with feigned interest. Something in me died when they told me to stop trying to get attention this way and left. I was covered in my own blood, my glasses were broken, yet somehow it was all my fault. The VP handed me a one week suspension and my mother, naturally, "had me removed from the home."

I am not making any of this up. I wish I was.

Best: Nothing springs to mind.