Teachers are people too. It's hard to imagine that the person you see twice week has a life outside the classroom; it's often easier to believe they live at their desks. I tend to be the kid who teachers remember, sometimes for good reasons or bad reasons. I like to talk back and ask questions, and depending on the teacher, that's either endearing or annoying. The reason I do this is that, despite being authority figures, they are people too,  they aren't just malicious obstacles in my life. On the other hand, sometimes I realize that a teacher doesn’t belong because they neither enjoy teaching nor are very good at. When that happens, I often butt heads with them.

Mrs. M was everyone's least favorite teacher. She taught at my middle school, a cold war era concrete box and her room exemplified that. It was in the middle of the school and was windowless, heartless and generally disgusting.  It's dirty yellowing tile and the buzz of fluorescent lamps matched the tenured teachers own appearance. Mrs. M taught health, so every other day we were forced to listen to her hypocrisy. She ranted to us about how awful cigarettes were and how she never smoked them, as she wheezed and gasped for breath.. She once forgot her purse underneath the ELMO, and we all saw a 15 ft projection of her two packs of Marlboros. Other than health, we also learned how terrible we were. No one in our grade had any work ethic or respect according to her. Maybe at one time she enjoyed her job, but that time had long since passed by the time I met her.

My biggest conflict with Mrs. M was when she became the soccer field dictator. During our lunch break, half the students in the school played soccer. The games were mostly casual fun, but occasionally things would get a little too competitive and someone would get angry or hurt. To administration, this was an outrage, so they assigned Mrs. M to keep things safe.

Things changed immediately. Mrs. M decided we needed to be strictly controlled. There was to be only eight players on the field at a time, no contact and apparently no fun. For the soccer players, the only valid course of action seemed to be to organize a protest.

Some shouted for us to make signs and strike, others wanted to arrange a speech to prove that they didn’t need supervision. In the end, the protest was simple. Everyone stood on the field and refused to play unless Mrs. M left. It worked well.  She screamed at us and threatened to give us all detention, but she had no way to enforce that, so she gave up. It seemed that we won our right to play soccer back from our oppressor.

In our last period of the day, history, we decided that we needed more than just a protest; we needed a petition. The teacher, Mr. Ashkinos, gave us time to research an ancient civilization. He stressed the importance of time management, but the revolution needed to be finished. The most verbose kid in the class wrote our very own Declaration of Independence, and  everyone signed it. It seemed like we had won the war until Mrs. M appeared in the library. Every student silently watched as she lumbered up to Ashkinos and told him something. His expression twisted to anger, but his co-worker commanded the authority to make him accept her demands. Mrs. M continued towards the center of the room and shouted with the intensity of a drill sergeant: “SIT DOWN.”

“I’ve never seen anything like what you just did” she spat. “You had a mob mentality.” She wheezed and continued “I always knew your year was bad, I should have known, you are lazy and disrespectful and… “ Another cough. I'm sure she would have continued that list for a long time. “If I ever catch you doing anything like this again I will have you all expelled.”

For ten minutes we sat in silence as she rambled on and Mr. Ashkinos face turned a bright shade of red. After she had finished her rant, a fog of fear permeated the room. She may have been a bad teacher, but she still held power over us. Mrs. M paused for a moment, admiring her ability to intimidate her students, then confidently walked out of the room.  Ashkinos paced up to where she was standing, face now purple with rage.
“I don’t know what that was about” he began. “I don’t care what you guys do at recess. I just don't like it that she came into my room and stopped my class for 15 minutes. If any of you did something wrong, I’m sure she will get you herself. For now, get back to work.” 

No punishments were ever handed out and she no longer ruled the soccer field. Unfortunately, she saw that we could have some power over her, so she treated us even worse. Her classes and rants became even more unbearable. Despite that, we knew that we won. Our protest was a small thing, but we felt like heroes defeating a terrible villain.
   

The relationship between student and teacher is vital in every classroom. It determines everything about the class, whether the students see it as fun or boring, tedious or exciting, or challenging or impossible. The teacher may seem like the source of this, but it's equally the student's responsibility to keep the class interesting.

Throughout my schooling, the way I interact with my teachers has allowed me to build strong relationships with them, but sometimes the same interaction has created conflict. In general, I think this has  helped me, I end up being more involved with the material and I stand out to my teachers. Knowing how to interact with authority figures has helped me so far, and it will continue to help me in the future.