Journal

Molly Bailey Social Psych.
March 1st, 2006 Groth
In high school, I had a French class with an imbecile for a teacher. I gave him the first full quarter to prove himself – far more time than the constantly complaining class. After discussing with my principal his inabilities and attempting alternatives to the rest of the semester with him, I ended up with the situation in my own hands. So, I dedicated myself to making our class time as useless as he did. I had a partner in crime and we had fun mocking, disturbing, and interrupting the imposter. By the last day of class, I went in with a smile and directly told him, "I am so happy I never have to step foot in this room again." He was offended, which I thought to be hilarious considering it was one of my weaker taunts and was an actual full-hearted statement of truth I assumed he shared. He demanded an apology, though, so I said with obvious wit, "I am sorry for speaking my mind, sir, it will not happen again." He said that that was not good enough, that I needed to apologize for being rude to him. I refused. So he refused to give me the final. I smartly argued that was most likely against a policy or two and I promised to be quiet for the rest of the class time as a compromise for I was too stubborn to say sorry for something I felt absolutely no remorse over.
I protested silently, in disbelief really, as he passed out the packets to all the students except for me. I calmly asked him to give me one and he said no. Lucky for me, a student sitting behind me had accidentally been given two copies, so I was able to proceed quietly and quickly with the test. But I was barely through my first name when his hand was on my paper. I held tight and he ended up ripping it out of my hands. Nobody was doing their test at this point; all eyes were on him as he ran to the room's call box to the main office.
"I just want you to know Molly Bailey is on her way to the office right now," he said.
Loud enough for the secretary to hear I bellowed, "No, I am not."
"Well, then," he huffed, "she will just go directly to Ms. Rook's office."
I blinked at him. Ms. Rook, the principal, had an office within the main office, as most high schools are set up; if I was not going to the main office, I obviously was not going to the principal's. "Nope, I'm not going anywhere until I take my test."
"That's it, send Mrs. Rook down here." He said this with an air of high authority; as if he were calling God himself down to judge me.
"Yes, call Mrs. Rook down here, please! I want her here too. She needs to see that you're not giving me my last test because your feelings are hurt," or something close to that, I just know I held strong eye contact the entire time.
In all honesty, things get fuzzy at this point. Fuzzy as in, I literally blacked out. I have my father's temper, so they say, and a spice of my own in with the meal, so when I get angry to the point of aggression, my mind just goes black. All I know for sure is: I cursed, I cleared the room from my seat to his desk, and I "came-to" with my fist raised, across the room, with the teacher cowering behind his bit of blue tape, as if it would protect him. (He had what I have seen in kindergartner's rooms - a piece of distinctly colored tape to let the children know that they were not to cross it because it was the teacher's personal space.)
Mrs. Rook grabbed my fist, though I was not going to hit him, and walked me to the hall. She went back into his room, did not ask him anything but to give her a test, and two other students requested to leave the room. Down the hall in the multi-functional room, I sat with the two others and we took our tests together. I ended up able to cheat, yet the other two girls got As and I received a D-, similar to his "poor grading skills" that he showed at the end of first quarter; I did not do my homework and received all As while a well known straight A student received Cs and Ds. He also had been taking credit directly off people's grades for their behaviors, which is against a law. He taught into my senior year but the following term was offered a position as a janitor, which he did not take perhaps because his wife was divorcing him and also worked in the school.
During the ordeal, my emotions went from excited and happy for the class was over, changed to shocked and astonished that he refused to give me the final, then to righteous once he tried to send me to the office, and of course I was angry when I blacked out, but in the end I was mellow, satisfied, and there was a comical undertone from start to finish. My thoughts were self-involved at first, "Get this class over and break begins!" and "Last chance to be the funny smart ass of the class." I became confused when he refused to give me the test and I was very curious if he could get away with it, really, or if he was even serious. I was not thinking by the time Mrs. Rook showed up and afterwards I was in the thought process of "What can I do to get back at him?" (I paid for two milks at lunch and a minion of mine opened them and hid them in his last class, so his room reeked after the two-week winter break.) Overall, I still see myself as not so much brilliant or daring anymore; nothing amazing came from me, all though my self-esteem soared from this, but I felt this man needed to be fired. I was ready to make amends with him, but his refusal to give me the test prompted the situation, further proving my opinion of him.
The book defines prejudice as applicable only to people. I was not prejudice towards this teacher for any reason, it took time and my dislike for him was reasonable. His purpose, his paycheck, and his choice was all about teaching which he utterly failed at. The whole class was in a consensus just as the school was the next year. I must say, though, that if it is possible, I have always had a prejudice against schools. I adore knowledge, which is perhaps why I dislike schools because I rarely find them up to par. I do know I stereotyped him to be a teacher; to be a fountain of French knowledge, to be able to grade properly, to efficiently handle a class. Stereotypes are often misleading, as I have learned both from class and real life.
My aggression was stated to be learned from my dad. To clarify, my father never laid a hand on anyone after Viet Nam. His anger was taken out on walls, but was still frightening, as I am sure I am when angry. My aggression started at the end of the first quarter, of course, with verbal and behavioral disruptions that were intended to irk him. I also attempted to bring him under inspection by the school board, but that was more of an altruistic move for my fellow students and the students that would have to suffer him the next semester and following year. My statement of joy that I would never have to sit in his class again was not intended to hurt him, but level with him for I knew he felt the same as he was not a fan of my charades. My days of taunting him were building frustrations for the both of us – I wanted to get out of his class and he wanted me out as well. We were stuck with each other, though, which just drove us both mad. I cannot tell if he provoked me first with the test or I to him. I am sure he saw it as me provoking him, but I saw and still see myself as simply an honest student that wanted to get her final done and over with. I have to say, I was curious as to why the principal did not punish me. She barely registered the severity of the situation in my opinion; she simply put herself in the middle and ended it. I had respect for her and she knew me well enough to know that I understood what was going on was not acceptable, but she did not once request me to pay any penalties or even formally apologize. By leaving the situation open-ended, it was sealed with relief from the teacher and I both because our days together were over at that point.
As I said before, I felt as if I were being altruistic and helpful to my fellow students. In a class of less than 40, everyone heard everyone at lunch, in class, or other social gatherings. It was a well-known fact that the entire class was dissatisfied. Unbelievably, I was one of the last to jump on the wagon of teacher hating, but I took control as a leader and did something about it. As much as it was altruistic of me, by the time I started the daily disruptions it was also a negative-state relief since I was just as aggravated with him and the fact that I had to be there every day.
When it came down to the heated ending, I wonder why no one in the class even stood from their desk. I hypothesis that perhaps it was an odd resident mobility factor, for many of the students I had known since I was at least ten. This was the teacher's first year and we were reluctant to accept him at all after he proved himself a fool. I, too, was a bit of an outsider despite my connections, though. The straight A student mentioned was a friend, but I had maybe three other people at maximum in the class that accepted me while some even hated me. I hypothesis that perhaps it was the bystander effect; someone figured that someone else was bound to do something, but nobody did. I conclude that perhaps it was a mixture of the two but would like to know which had the majority influence on the group of students.