I remember one time back in high school I accidentally left my one of my history elective textbooks in class one day. I didn’t realize that fact until I got home later that day, and naturally I was freaking out because I could not for the life of me find it. I tried to convince myself that I left it in my locker, and the next morning, sure enough, it wasn’t there. I had another class with that teacher, so I thought maybe I left it in the class and could grab it then. But it wasn’t there either. Naturally, I was sick to my stomach at this point. I couldn’t find the fucking history textbook and I looked everywhere. Every single classroom I had. The cafeteria. The lost and found in the office. Literally every possible location.
Then it was time for the actual class, and of course, we needed our books. I feel now is a good time to point out that this teacher was hard, mean, and honestly scared the shit out of me a little. She was not the type of teacher you wanted to make mad, and I was honestly on the verge of passing out. But she did have a policy of “if you forget your book you have one free pass and can borrow one from the spare books in the back of the room”. I had never forgotten my book before, so I thought it was all ok. I went to the back to grab the spare and then- she started yelling at me.
Now I don’t handle getting yelled at well at all. It kills me. I will cry. I will cry every damn time. But getting yelled at in public? I wish she had just shot me in the face because it would have been less painful. Turns out, she had my book the whole time. She watched me search the whole classroom. She saw how upset I was and how much I was trying to find it. But she fucking hid the book on me instead of giving it back in the other class. She waited until it would cause a scene, and she started screaming about how irresponsible I was and how I need to pay more attention and how I should have gone to her in the first place and asked (even though, as I have stressed, she fucking terrified me).
Finally she gave the book back, and I had to sit there for the next hour and a half while she taught trying not to sob my eyes out.
From that point on, up until my freshman year of college, I hated history. She ruined history for me. I never wanted to take another fucking class. It was my best subject, it was the one I was most passionate about, and she killed it for me. I don’t know what her problem was, and to this day I don’t understand why she acted the way she did. But it was probably the most embarrassing moment of my entire life, and it’s horrible to think that one person almost ruined forever my favorite thing in the world.