Friday, August 21, 2020

Mean Teacher Won't Believe Student, Student Proves Teacher Wrong


This revenge story is truly inspirational for all the students out there that have ever suffered at the hands of presumptuous, toxic teachers that they were too afraid to stand up too. Because oh boy, does this student hatch just the kind of revenge plan that took patience and dedication; and ultimately paid off in a big and beautiful way. 

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Text - r/ProRevenge u/Anonamaton • 2y + Join 3 Yes, Mrs. Smith, I can F*CKING read. Hello all! l'm not sure how pro my fifth grader ass was, but this miserable 6-year-period of my education still kinda pisses me off, even today. Please forgive the necessary backstory: I don't know why, but for some reason, the teachers and administrators who ran my strict Catholic elementary school decided that I was lying about my reading/writing abilities.

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Text - ..yeah, look I don't get it. I really don't. Every year, l'd start the semester having to prove I was actually doing my own English homework. They could never prove I was cheating, so they eventually settled on measuring me against the smartest girl in the class, Cathy. I hated Cathy. Here's an example of this comparison business: We've been assigned a book to read. We read the first chapter aloud in class. I like the book, so I take it home and finish it. Whoop de do. Next day, we're sup

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Text - Ме: "I did." Mrs. Smith: "I said READ. Not skim." Me: "I DID read it." Mrs. Smith: "Cathy, what page are you on?" Cathy: "Um, 15, ma'am." Mrs. Smith: "Okay OP. Cathy is the best reader in the class. If she's not past page 15, then neither are you." ..and that was that. I was too shy and embarrassed to really protest...so I didn't. I'd just stare and stare at the same page until Cathy turned her page, and then I turned mine. This was AGONIZINGLY boring, and it happened almost every day.

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Text - After about 5/6 years of this...issue, I was PRETTY PISSED about it. Year after year, semester after semester, day after day, being told that I couldn't read as well as Cathy? When reading was the only fucking thing I was absolutely sure I was good at? It ate at me, rage and humiliation and frustration and just...a lot of self hate, for not being able to speak up, to force the issue to the point where I could prove I was a good reader? It stung. | And in the fifth grade, I finally saw it–

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Text - Two: I was one of the students that had to be supervised to "make sure I didn't cheat." (I NEVER FUCKING CHEATED YOU SHITB–okay, okay. Ahem.) Thanks to this, I was too embarrassed to ask to take the tests until the last semester. Three: 1ST THROUGH 4TH GRADERS WERE LOCKED INTO TESTS ON BOOKS ON THEIR READING LEVEL. Solid idea, in theory, preventing kids from cheating the system and guessing their way through high point value tests instead of reading, but do you want to know how many point

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Text - But fifth graders...fifth graders had FREE REIGN to take any test they wanted...any test...any test at all. I remember looking at my English syllabus on the first day of school and seeing that holy, blessed freedom... looked up at the back of Cathy's head, in the class across the hall. I could win. But then I realized...I could do better than win. I could DESTROY her. Destroy her and prove once and for all who the alpha reader in the school was. I could destroy her and show stupid Mrs. Sm

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Text - After school, instead of going to the homework room in after school care, I went to the library with Mrs. Reilly to take my AR tests, since I still had to be supervised. This was fine. I needed a witness. I started taking tests. I took all of the tests. Every book l'd ever read that was available to be tested, I tested. All of the Babysitter's Club. All of Sweet Valley High. All the Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, the Great Illustrated Classics, the unabridged versions of those same books. Ev

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Text - It took HOURS. About one hour in, Mrs. Reilly tried to stop me, but I shocked both of us when I very firmly told her: "No. I'm not stopping until l'm done." I'd never spoken to an adult like that in my life. It doesn't sound like much, but I was the quietest, shyest, most pathetic thing when it came to adults, especially teachers. I barely looked up at them. Later, my father came to pick me up. I told him I had to take all of these tests. Mrs. Reilly told my dad that l'd passed, I was fin

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Text - Mrs. Reilly and my dad let me take tests until about midnight. At that point, the program locked itself. No more tests could be taken, the year's competition was over. I could see my score, and I was laughing, and crying, and just a fucking mess. Mrs. Reilly just hugged me (writing this out now, she was seriously cool to actually stay so late and let this sobbing mess of a child do this). My (incredibly concerned, but kinda proud) dad took me home. I couldn't wait for Monday. You see, the

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Text - No one knew the truth...no one but Mrs. Reilly. Mrs. Reilly, who was IN CHARGE of the contest as the librarian and knew l'd won legitimately. I spent the entire morning hour with the biggest fucking grin on my face. I grinned though prayer, through the pledge, through the unrelated announcements. I was so excited I laughed when the principal started reading the AR winners. My classmates clearly thought I was nuts. My teacher- fucking Mrs. Smith, who was by far and above the worst teacher

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Text - Mrs. Smith thought I cheated of course. But I had Mrs. Reilly, and finally, my parents as backup. And now I need to pause, because...well. As you might assume, there's more to this story than just a little misunderstanding about my reading level. This petty revenge was the highlight of these years, but it was far from the only problem I had. Early puberty, childhood depression, and my shy, friendless nature made me a particularly juicy target for bullying and (in hindsight, pretty extreme

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Text - They transferred me out immediately, giving me the greatest exit any bullied child could dream of-a big bang: proving once and for all that those bastards were fucking wrong about me, beating Cathy (who, thinking on it now, didn't do anything but exist to be everything I supposedly wasn't and I kinda feel bad for ruining her moment), and blowing the whistle on my bullies. I left behind legacy of my passing-last I heard, it took the rest of the Harry Potter books and some serious dedicatio

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Text - I've gotten a lot of similar questions, so here's some answers! 1. How good was that pizza party? Never in my life has lukewarm, flat soda and microwaved pepperoni pizza tasted so good. Not even a joke, I've never had a pizza that can compare. Victory is a hell of a spice. 2. How are you doing now? I'm doing good! Therapy was a long process, but I'm happy these days. I ended up leaving the church, throwing myself bodily into art and writing, and using those skills to earn a full ride scho

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Text - 3. Did the school do anything about those teachers? Eventually, yes. In the end it wasn't as justice-boner- inducing, but they were dealt with. 7.2k 469 1 Share

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