My Abusive Teacher

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is the story of how a teacher took a happy, well adjusted, little girl who loved school, and turned her into a fearful, rebellious, angry, teen who hated school. And she did it all for her own amusement.

I had a fairly normal childhood; a mother who adored her children, sewed for us, dressed us like little dolls but treated us like young people with feelings and opinions of our own.
My father was a great person. I would say he was my best "buddy" until I was old enough to develop other "bests". He took me out for walks and held my  hand as he talked about anything that we saw. He answered all my questions.

I thought he was the smartest person in the whole world. Until I got older and started asking harder questions. Like about love, and why the boy I like always likes some other girl while that girl likes some other boy who likes me, but I don't like him. You know the story.

Then the trouble began

(I had a teacher who took a shy, pretty, reasonably happy 11 year old girl who loved school and turned her into a timid, school hating, rebel. If one can be timid and rebellious at the same time, I did it.)

When I was in 6th grade, our family moved to a new neighborhood, which meant a new school. No problem. I loved the new house and liked the looks of the new school. My mother took me to the school on the first Monday in October. We went to the office to register, the principal was a warm, welcoming man. Registering in a new school took a while, so it was about 9:30 a.m. when he took me to meet my new teacher and class mates. We went into the class and he introduced me to the teacher, telling her that she was getting a new student. Then he turned to me and smiled and said he'd leave me in her very capable hands. She smiled, said thank you, walked him to the door, closed it quietly behind him, came back to me and said in a very harsh voice "That's the last time you will EVER be late to my class, young lady!" Then she had every person in the class stand up and say his or her first and last name, and told me that before class would restart after morning recess, I had to be able to recite each of their names or she would know that I had no respect, for her or them. Fortunately, there was a boy who made a seating chart with all the names filled in and he gave it to me, so I was able to study it and recite it after recess. I am not sure how that affected her. I think she may have been angry and disappointed that I had not satisfied her first attempt to humiliate me. That boy was my hero. But SHE was my tormentor for the next two years. She humiliated me daily. When I had my first period, June 1956, I was wearing a white pleated skirt and I started bleeding at school. One of the girls who sat behind me, told me that I had blood on the back of my skirt. She could see it while I was sitting because it was spreading up the back of my skirt. I raised my hand and asked to speak to Miss Szuszaska at my desk. I was a child. It was the 1950's and I was mortified. She wouldn't come to my desk to listen to what I had to say. I asked to be excused, without giving a reason, and she said "NO" I decided that I had to leave anyhow. The girl behind me offered her sweater to tie around my waist. Very kind of her because she knew it was bound to get blood on it, but we were friends and I guess friendship is thicker than blood. I accepted it and tied it around my waist, got up and prepared to slip out the back door of the room while teacher's back was turned. She caught me. Took the sweater away from me pulled me by the wrist up to the front of the room and turned me around and told everybody that this was the kind of low class pig I was. That I didn't even know how to take care of my personal hygiene.
This may not be the kind of abuse you are talking about, but it was the first genuine abuse I ever suffered, and it went on for two years. She was my 6th grade teacher, and when I went into 7th grade, so did she. I can't even say that it may have been something I did, because it started before we even met.

Remember, this was mid 1950's. Eleven year old girls, while interested in boys, were very shy about the fact. She knew before I got there, that she was getting a new girl, that day. She had prepared a seat for me before I arrived. Between two boys. She should have seated me between two girls. The class was divided pretty much girls on one side of the room and boys on the other; because that was how they had chosen to sit when class started in September. They all made a mad dash to sit with friends, and that is the seat they were in for the rest of the school year. So mostly it was girls sitting together and boys together on the other side of the room. Except for the one tomboy in the class. Her name was Pierrette and she was as tough as any boy and took sh*t from nobody. I think she had several brothers.

I believe, looking back, that I was an experiment. I think she just needed to prove that a child could be destroyed without ever being beaten. It wasn't personal. I couldn't have been. It started before she knew me. I think she was a sociopath, and I wonder how many kids she did this to before and after me. I do know that she was mistreating a boy in the same class as me; in much the same way.

Humiliating him in every way possible. The first time I ever heard the words "wet dream" was when he came to school with a stain on his pants and she asked him if he had slept in those pants and had a "wet dream". This boy's mother was dead and he was being raised by his father who worked for a living and likely didn't have much time for doing the normal things. (like laundry) She treated him like dirt. Saying that she wasn't surprised his mother died, she probably didn't want to be his mother any more and that was the only way she could think of to escape.

I know, I know, a teacher wouldn't get away with that now. Would she? I'm not so sure. Teachers having sex with little boys? It happens, doesn't it? So, maybe what happened to me and David could be happening to someone else right now. I just don't know.

Submitted: July 16, 2012

© Copyright 2020 GabbyBabylon. All rights reserved.

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My gawd ! This has me with such mixed emotions. Happiness that you had such loving parents and envy at that.

I wonder if you ever told them what this teacher was doing to you ?

Unfortunately we run across people such as her and were basically powerless as children.

I'm sure there are still teachers like her, and I use the word " teacher " loosely. And as unfortunate there are kids ,students at the mercy of them.

I just want to hug that little girl ( you ) and the little boy who had life tough enough as it was, at home.

((( hugs ))))

Thu, July 19th, 2012 2:54pm


I did tell my parents about her. I recall mom going to the school and talking to the principal, but I don't think anything ever came of it, because I had that same teacher for both grades 6 and 7. I was so happy to get promoted so I wouldn't have to be with her. Imagine my devastation when I walked in and saw who my teacher was. I believe this is the origin of my lifelong battle with depression.

Fri, July 20th, 2012 3:38am

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