Math Teachers Make the Best Bullies

French Teachers Make the Best Bullies

I sat by the computer in the school library working on a team project with my friends Jonas and Colin when I heard my name called out. It sounded like it came from a grownup and I could sense a hint of sarcasm in his voice. I turned my head. It was Mr. Fourret, my math teacher from 7th grade, the one who forever turned me off from Math.

"Mika, I'm surprised to find you here. You know you need some Math to use a computer," he said and chuckled with his usual used car salesman condescending tone, as Ms Dum, the librarian, giggled with him. Everyone in school referred to her as Ms. Dummy and I understood at that moment why. What she lacked in looks, she lacked even more in personality. She tried so hard to keep her years from showing with layers of shiny makeup and even she couldn't hide that horse teeth smile of hers.

I never knew teachers could cause so many nightmares to their students until I had Mr. Fourret the year before. My family and I had just moved to the States and this was my first day back to school. As a form of introduction, he gave the class a quick test to gauge the level of his new students. Two days later, he gave us our grades out loud in descending order. I ended up getting the worst grade. I got up, walked in front of the whole class to get my paper but before I did, he grabbed my hand and asked me, "Mika, have you ever studied Math before?"

The whole class burst out laughing. I didn't. I walked back to my desk at a nonchalant pace to show him I was not going to let him turn me into the butt of his jokes. Little did I know that these humiliating skits would go on throughout the year. He never missed a chance to add a few jabs to his students with bad grades. We were sometimes called "the idiots of the class", the "slackers", or my favorite: the "no future kids". He repeated those lines so many times that he sounded like a broken record after the first two months.

It was my third year of French schooling and I came to the conclusion that French teachers made the best bullies. Was it the bad hygiene manners the French were doomed to live with, their scrawny bodies which looked like a Canadian wind could crush their fragile bones into pieces or the fact that they never won a war in modern history? There was something in their water that made them despicable and it certainly wasn't wine.

So when Mr. Fourret decided to tease me in the library room, I told myself I would not give him the pleasure of making fun of me one more time. That day, I was not in the mood to be bullied by anyone and if I'm perfectly honest, I don't remember a time when I ever was. Something got over me as I felt like an army of a thousand soldiers. I looked him straight in the eye and spit "Hey Rolland, are you going to piss me off much longer?"

"Excuse me, Mika?" He said, before adding, "do you even know who you're talking to?"

French teachers liked to be addressed by their last name and called mister or miss. It was a mark of respect. That is exactly why I chose to call him out with his first name. "Respect is a two way street," as my grandmother used to say. Perhaps he needed a reminder that he was a mere mortal like the rest of us.

I dreamed for months about the moment where I could finally tell him to back off and put him back in his place. Now that he had thrown himself into the ring with me, I had no intention of backing down. I savored every second like a lion feasting on its prey.

"Aren't you Rolland Fourret, the Math teacher?" I asked sarcastically while keeping my cool.

"Excuse me?" He repeated.

"I said, aren't you Rolland, the Math teacher?"

Jonas was more red than the ink on my last Science paper and left the moment I talked back, too afraid of the repercussions. Colin soon joined him once he realized I was not going to back down. Students never talked back to teachers. It was not frowned upon. It was forbidden. My school seemed to place teachers on a pedestal. They were seen like gods with middle class salaries. They were untouchable. Unfortunately for me, I started in a Canadian school and was not used to being talked down to. In elementary school, in my small Canadian town, teachers believed in the power of positive reinforcement. In France, they either never got the memo or preferred dragging students down by highlighting their flaws.

"I wonder what kind of values your parents raised you on if you speak this way." He said.

Ah, finally! Mr. Fourret threw a jab below the belt the way I knew he would, just like he'd always done in class except he had no crowd to cheer him this time. Involving family in a one-on-one verbal assault was quite low. Especially coming from an adult but if this is how he wanted to play, I was ready.

"What do my parents have to do with any of it? And as far as I remember you have a kid in Montreal. Don't you? And you live in D.C... What kind of dad does that make you?" I replied with a smirk. His daughter was still a baby but I couldn't let him get away with it. Not this time.

He started getting agitated like he wanted to punch me but he knew he was in the school library. "I'll send you to the principal. You little..."
There you go. I was finally under his skin. "Huh, what for?" I interrupted him. "I was working with my friends before you showed up and started talking crap. Do you know many adults who spend their lunch hour bullying teenagers? Scrap off, already." I motioned to the door.

I never considered myself an impolite person but I could make an exception with Mr. Fourret. I felt like the lead character in a Van Damme movie verbally countering a villain with my own clever lines.

"This is not over." He responded with angry eyes, bobbing his head, looking like he'd experienced a concussion. I could sense he was boiling inside. I was too but didn't want to show it. I started wondering if I would get sent to detention or worse get expelled. I may have pushed him over the edge but part of me believed he had no right to come nag a student in public ground.

I went back to working on the computer, trying my best to stay calm after this moment of verbal assault but I couldn't. After a moment, I decided to leave. My friends Jonas and Colin had left the library minutes before anyway.

The bell rang to signal the end of the lunch hour as I stuffed my school bag with books. When I walked out of the library towards my next class, a hand grabbed me by the arm from behind. It was Mr. Fourret. "You know, I could have you expelled. Next time you talk to me this way, I will. You can trust me on that."

"Next time you grab my arm, I will tell the principal." I replied, as I pushed his hand away. He held on. "Let's see how your threat turns out," I added. I almost expected him to throw a punch, But he didn't. He let go of my hand and walked away. I spent the rest of the day going from one class to the next paranoid that the principal would show up in order to invite me to his office to expel me. Instead, my day at school ended like all the others. Quietly with a bus ride home.

The following days ended the same way. Weeks rolled into months and Mr. Fourret never spoke to me again. He never alluded to that episode in the school library. I didn't either.

I often wondered if he regretted provoking me at all or if he was scared that I'd accuse him of something that would cost him his job or something along those lines. Who would they believe? The truth is, I didn't really want to know. In any case, he'd stopped taunting me and that was great progress on my end.

Despite what I considered to be my small personal victory, I waited years before telling my parents about that incident. The first thing my mom said was "Mika, you should've told us. We would've done something about it." My dad and I looked at each other. We both knew nothing would have changed. It was a private school with teachers from other countries. There was no potential teacher waiting in line hoping for a full-time gig. Management was stuck with the teachers they had and us kids had no choice but to pay the price of bad management.

Mr. Fourret taught me more about bullies than he could ever imagine. Once you stand your ground and refuse to play their games they become helpless like an old ferocious animal who still has fangs to bite but no energy to attack. I don't know if he found someone else to bully and humiliate in his classes or he decided to become a better person. I wouldn't be surprised by either.