Teaching Me

Soap Opera Sunday, friends!

Because many of you know where I went to High School, I have to tread lightly here…

As I was registering for High School just before my freshman year, I looked over possible electives. One of them on the list was simply not an option, it was a must. The subject was a passion for me, and I was good at it. I signed right up.

The first day of class, I strutted my stuff. I WAS good at this, notably the BEST in the class, right off the bat. The teacher was impressed. It was important to me to impress him.

He was fascinating and… handsome for an old man. And by old, I mean about forty, I guess. Still, since I was 14, forty was OLD!

I excelled in his class and received a lot of special attention from him. I was his star student. He began insisting that I call him by his first name. It didn’t seem all that weird, because there were several others who did that too, male and female.

The next year, I decided to take his more advanced class. He was thrilled, as was I. We were really becoming great friends. He offered me a position as his Teacher’s Assistant and I accepted. This would mean a guaranteed “A” for that class period, along with allowing me to delve even deeper into my understanding and knowledge of this particular subject, while still being his student during another class period. Two hours with him! It also meant that he and I would be alone in his office quite often. Again, we were becoming great friends, and this wouldn’t be uncomfortable at all.

Throughout my extended alone time with him, I learned all about his marriage–and how it was falling apart. He painted his wife as the ultimate wench. I felt so bad for him. It never occurred to me that it was totally inappropriate for him to be telling me these things. We were just really good friends, and it seemed like something that would naturally come up in conversation between friends.

Soon he started making jokes–that if his wife were more like me, they’d get along so much better. Everything would be better, if she were just a little more like me. That eventually evolved into him making jokes about leaving her for me. It was so silly. I was only 15. It was just a joke, but part of me kinda hoped he meant it.

To clarify, I wasn’t completely unaware of his attachment to me. I wasn’t so very naive. But I also didn’t see it as any big deal. And I was extremely flattered. I admired him, for sure. I was intrigued by his knowledge and delighted by his humor. I knew he was a popular teacher and I enjoyed being the center of his attention. I don’t think I returned the sentiment, the bizarre infatuation, but my ego loved the game, so I allowed it. I even had some romantic dreams involving him that got my brain all messed up. I really wasn’t quite sure how I felt about him. But whatever it was, it was just a silly little thing. And probably all in my head. I knew that no one else would understand how harmless it was, so I never mentioned it to anyone.

One day, he’d had a nasty tiff with his wife, and he sat down with me and told me about it, as he always had. And then, suddenly very serious, he told me that he really would leave her for me, if I would have him. I caught my breath and felt the crazy tension in the air.

I don’t remember what happened or who interrupted us, but I never had the chance to respond. Just as well. I had no idea what to say, but I was finally starting to feel a little creeped out.

I began to be a little more distant. He knew it, I knew it. I still considered him a great friend, but I knew we were crossing into dangerous territory and I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I just avoided him.

The next semester, he gave me an “A-”.

I was… um… FURIOUS.

I stormed into his classroom and grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the office. This was witnessed by many students. I wonder what went through their heads! They had already probably realized there was something “weird” going on with us. I never really stopped to think about how it all looked to everyone else.

I yelled at him. I was clearly his very best student –I had never once gotten a question wrong on a test!–and I was given an A-. WHY??? He just laughed at me. He wouldn’t answer me me, or even pretend to take me seriously. He just laughed.

I should have done something, tattled on him to someone, but I was embarrassed and never quite sure of what had actually happened between us emotionally and wondered if it had all been in my head, etc. I decided that I couldn’t possibly tell anyone about it. So the A- remained as it was.

My mom was so ticked off at me when she saw my grades. She couldn’t understand why I wasn’t “living up to my potential.” How could I get less than a perfect grade in this subject? I had no answers for her, of course. I just let her believe that I was lazy and frivolous–she was prone to believe that about me anyway–so after listening to her familiar speech until its bitter end, I went to my room and bawled, feeling so completely helpless.

He and I grew apart, and never talked like that again. I finished his whole series of classes and just moved on. A few years later, all grown up now, I had to stop in at the school to pick up a transcript and I ran into him there. He couldn’t remember my name (hello?) but he said, “what I remember about you was that one time that you were unhappy with your grade and so you made a huge scene and screamed at me.” Laughing, again.

Ick.

I know that this whole situation certainly wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but still, such a relationship was completely out of place. Sadly, this wasn’t my only “inappropriate friendship” with a teacher. There was one other, which we will reserve for another story at another time. And, looking back, it seemed like there were other teachers who had “special friends” who were students that, from appearances, bordered on the inappropriate too.

What would you have done if you’d been 15 years old and in a similar situation? Did you see/experience this stuff in your school too?