I had a teacher back in high school who never really cared for me. I was a lazy student and not very good at his subject (Spanish), so I didn’t mind the disdain – it was, at that point, pretty well-deserved.
However, my senior year, he decided our Spanish class should attend this Spanish Fair. It was like a regional Science Fair, but with lots of different projects and “competitions” – there was vocabulary competitions, cooking, art, etc. I was really known at the school for being a good artist, having won several awards, so naturally I signed up for the art competition, since that was the only thing I felt I could do.
Well I think this teacher got it in his head that I was going to sweep the art contest. But, I had a ton of trouble with my painting – I chose a poor subject matter to start with, and then just had issue after issue. The night before the Spanish Fair, I was up late and in frustrated tears trying to save it. I know you other creative types know the feel – where you just absolutely HATE something and want to rip it in half. But I couldn’t. I had to submit this thing, I didn’t have a back up.
So I went ahead and went and entered it. And then went about enjoying the rest of the day. We were out of school, and my friend and I had a good time wandering around the exhibits, and sampling the food from the cooking competition (awesome).
Of course, my painting bombed. Looking at it next to the other entries I didn’t think it was so bad, but there were several FAR better and I didn’t even place. It didn’t matter a lick to me – I didn’t care at that point (unsure if I ever cared in the first place…) and threw the painting away not long after.
Well, this teacher apparently held this against me. He wanted as many ribbons as possible, and the fact I’d failed him in the art contest was like a personal insult. He was absolutely insufferable towards me after that, but I was just hanging on til school was over after that point.
The very, very last day of school, I was tardy. I checked into the office and confirmed with the secretary that that was only #3 of the semester – at #4 you get in trouble. She said I was fine and to go on to class.
Well this Spanish teacher catches me in the hallway about halfway through the day. We didn’t even have classes that day – the senior class got to help out at the elementary school’s field day. So I was just heading back outside after getting a drink in the cafeteria. But he catches me in the hall, and tells me that this morning was my 4th tardy and was going to give me a detention. Even though I was intensely shy, I argued back – I’d checked with the secretary, and she’d told me it was #3. He straight out lies through his teeth and says no, it was #4, and he was giving me a detention.
I mean, who even does that?? Detention on the last day of school for a senior? When was I even going to serve it? I’d never, ever had detention in my entire school career. It really came across as petty, like revenge for failing in that stupid art contest.
Luckily, I had an ace up my sleeve. At the VERY beginning of the school year, MONTHS ago – they’d given each senior a “get out of detention free” card. I don’t know why. I don’t know how I still had it – I never imagined I’d need it. But I knew exactly where it was. I told him I still had my card. He kinda scoffed and told me to bring it to him. So I did, I rummaged through my locker, found it, and took it back to him.
The defeat on his face was palpable. I just walked away, and never spoke to him again. I may have lost the art contest, but I won the war, Señor.
