During my time in year nine and ten, Maths lessons were a time to really and truly reflect on how much of a failure I had become. I used to sit at the back of the class with a diligent friend, let’s call Celestia (inside joke), who sat to my right and a careless boy, H, who sat to my left.
It seemed pretty cool to sit in the middle of them, seeing as though I was already friends with them, right?
No, my friend. You and I both thought wrong.
Celestia and H were like oil and water. They fought all the time. I knew I had to be their emulsifier so I tried once. It was a time when H decided to steal Celestia’s ruler so he stretched over and grabbed it but Celestia snatched it by the end. They were pulling back and forth like tug of war, constantly forcing me to lean back against my chair so I wouldn’t be in the way. It got to a point where I couldn’t lean back anymore and this was no longer a game of Who-Can-Get-Celestia’s-Ruler-To-Themselves-First but it was war and potential death.
They were careless and tugging at this blue poor ruler, moving closer and closer to me, as I tried desperately to not get involved. And it was in that moment that I knew I. Had. Done. Goofed. by leaning back. I tried to grip onto the wall not far behind me and stop myself from falling back but the force between the two fighters were too strong and there I was, lying on my back, the chair’s legs horizontal, my legs vertical.
They both stopped and stared, laughing so hard. What made it worse was the fact that we were so cramped in that corner of the room that I couldn’t even find the space to get back up. I was stuck, possibly flashing people.
At that point, my dignity wasn’t a priority, getting up was.
To this day, however, I believe I was the emulsifier to the oil and water that was Celestia and H so call me Martin Luther King. But, like, don’t actually.
Later on, I migrated to the front of the class, sadly, for the sake of my education, along with H, and another girl, who I had pretty good banter with. There was a girl in front of us, who holy moly, was just wow. Wow not as in I’m-a-lesbian-and-I-think-she-was-hot kid of ‘Wow’. She was pretty but she was ‘Wow’ as in she was so desperate and overly flirtatious that I have nothing else to say but ‘Wow’ that doesn’t sound like I’m slut shaming. I remembered she dropped her pen on the floor behind her and as she picked it up, she did this sort of hair flip as she rose her head back up and made eye contact with H and then me. It was the sort of hair flip in L’Oréal adverts, where the girl says something like “My hair defines me” at the beginning and has this smoky eye thing going on to make her look more intriguing. Yeah, that hair flip.
Right behind me was a boy, the Andy Bernard of our class. He always sang and when Celestia’s new class next door couldn’t hear us laughing or screaming, they could hear him singing.
There were a lot of different personalities, that stood out, in that class. However, all these personalities in one room was nothing compared to Ebenezer Scrooge himself. My maths teacher was literally a tall, less slouched version of the old man from Monster House, except he never softened to us. He actually looked like him too. He was very closed book and had coffee breath and GIANT hands. He was strict and often unfair and a little sexist and racist, but it was all in good humour…(not really, actually. We had to make statements about witnessing his racist comments…)
One day, the teacher was teaching us (that’s what teachers do, Captain Obvious) but us students were so distracted by the buzzing of this fly as we traced it with our eyes, flying around the sadness of the room. We were like those cats, constantly looking back and forth.
Our teacher didn’t really care but then gradually, our eyes started to follow the fly closer and closer to the board and just like that, the fly landed on his freaking head! His shiny bald head! I couldn’t tell whether he knew it landed on his head or not (very close to his forehead, by the way, although I don’t know if his forehead would have an end).
We sat, eyes fixed on him and I swear, even though I know it lasted for about a second, the time we were in utter silence staring at this fly, plopped on his head, lasted forever. The tidal wave of laughter erupted and someone goes, “Sir, there’s a fly on your head.” And he doesn’t even care. He just carries on teaching like an automated robot. We’re too occupied gaining abs from laughing and alerting him that this disgusting, actual faeces eating, flying creature landed on his head, and he doesn’t even care. After a while, it gets to a point where he can’t teach any of us anymore so he decides to wave his hands about to scare the fly off, like you would do anyway when you felt it landing. On. Your. Bare. Head!
Not long after, the fly actually came back again to land on his head. His shiny egg head was like a landing pad for the fly.
Although, even with these stories put together, it’s definitely not as funny as the time he aggressively shoved my friend of a chair, to encage a huge rat, near her foot, in a transparent box, while we were in a maths test…
Please share your own funny class memories in the comments. 😀
And may the forth be with you.