Monday, January 31, 2011

Teachers (Part 112)

I have one missing teacher story, I think, that was sent in around last Wednesday by someone with a Scandinavian name (if I remember correctly). So if that's you, it was lost in the accidental e-mail purge, so please resend it.

In the meantime, as we head down the homestretch, here's a story from Donny Plumley:
In my case, it wasn't a teacher, but my Boy Scout master. He DID teach us, as scouts, and was supposed to be an instrumental role model in the development of impressionable youth, but in my case, he scarred me for life.

A little background about me, and why this guy was such a monster. I grew up raised by overly indulgent grandparents. My mom passed away when I was 8, and they raised me after she passed. I never stuck with sports or other activities, always quitting after a short while, but never with scouts. I LOVED being a scout. I entered cub scouts around the age of 7, and stayed until I had every badge and they literally made me move on. Our Den Mother, Delores, was the sweetest lady. She wore too tight sweaters and jeans, and way too much musk perfume(so much so you could smell her coming a mile away), but she had endless hugs, and tissues to wipe our snotty noses, and was truly a mom to all of us. Unconditional love and encouragement was the way of our pack.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a boy scout troop in my area. A friend of mine wanted to join a troop that was across the county, but had a great reputation. They did a lot of camping, usually went to the national jamboree's every year, and the scout master, Mr. Ogre(obviously not his name, but i'd rather call him AssHat), a prominent local attorney, was known to make boys into men.

Mr. Ogre was a short, squat, bespectacled man, who really didn't seem like he wanted to be there. Whenever he taught a skill, like a new knot, or how to pitch a tent, he acted as if we were slow, talking down to us with contempt. He expected us to know how to do any task after one demonstration, with no screw ups. He would start a timer, and expected us to be able to do the same task in less time than it took him to teach us. To this day i'm not sure why he was a scout master, since he seemed so miserable.

At the end of one camping trip, everyone was breaking down tents, putting away supplies, etc. I was still in the mess hall, looking for something to drink. I had developed a pretty nasty head cold and sore throat over the weekend, and was dying of thirst. All of the cups and things were packed, and there were many jugs of water, so I did what I knew I wasn't supposed to do, but didn't have much of a choice; I drank straight from the jug. Mr. Ogre saw this, and went apoplectic. He coldly asked what did I think I was doing, then informing me how inconsiderate I was, how I was going to spread my sickness(all the while getting louder, face getting redder). How he wanted a drink but now he couldn't because I'd contaminated the water. He screamed at me til I was a blubbering mess, then left the mess hall kicking the water jug out the door. Worse, all my friends stopped, and watched me stand there, crying.

So, thanks to Mr Ogre, I quit scouts for good. never went back to another meeting.

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