If you know a substitute teacher, then I feel for you:

When I was in grade 10, our math teacher was taken out of commission for a
couple of weeks.  He has some medical problems that weren’t particularly life
threatening, but were inconvenient more than anything.  Since it was only grade
10 math, we weren’t to concerned.  Don’t get me wrong, we were concerned
for the health of our teacher, we just weren’t worried about covering all the
necessary information.  This was the main concern of the grade 12 students.

The temporary solution to this temporary problem was obvious: hire a
substitute.  At first, a retired math teacher from the United Kingdom was
hired for the job.  He was a very good teacher; very knowledgeable in the
field of mathematics.  He had retired for a reason, though.  He lasted about
two weeks.  He explained that he wasn’t going to tolerate the rudeness of the
bloody kids today.  Fair enough.  We were pretty bad.  I don’t know the rest
of the classes behaved, but we sure weren’t the model for perfect student
behavior.

The next guy they got was an idiot.  He must have been the guy on the top of
the list in the substitute teacher pool because he didn’t have any particularly
outstanding mathematical abilities.  This didn’t really matter to us because we
were just assigned material out of our text book to keep us busy.

Things were all well and good until he met the real us.  In other words, he
realized that our bad behavior was not just for the first day, or the second
day, or the third day; he realized that this is what we would be like forever.
He must have need the work because he hung around.

Then, on one dismal winter day, he singled out my buddies and I.  We had
been talking throughout the entire class and he had had enough.  He took a
stand and told us to be quiet.  We weren’t completely out of control, so we
were quite – for about ten minutes.

The next time he talked to us, he made an example of one of us.  He said,
“That’s it.  You’re staying after class.”

The student in question asked, “What did I do?”

“We’ll talk about that after class.”

Well, we knew that this guy meant business, so we were quiet for about five
minutes.  Then, again, he singled out one of my buddies, “Alright, you’re
staying after class too.”

The other student in question asked, “What did I do?”

And again, “We’ll talk about that after class.”

Well, I was the only one left who would be going home after class, or so I
thought.  Sure enough, 5 minutes later I was being singled out for talking.

“Okay, Mr. Talkative, you can join your friends after class as well,” he
declared.

I wasn’t going to stand for this treatment so I asked, “Why?”

To which he replied, “That’s what we’ll all discuss after class.”

I just wouldn’t give up there though.  “Why don’t you tell us now?” I asked
innocently enough.

“I’m teaching right now.  We will talk about this after class.”

‘Okay,’ I thought, and I waited.

Well, I just couldn’t wait any more.  We had quieted down a bit, but the
class was about three quarters finished and the class was supposed to be
working out of the text book.

‘Perfect,’ I thought.  ‘He’s not teaching anymore, so I’ll be able to find out
what’s going on after class.’

So I asked, “You don’t appear to be teaching right now, so could you tell us
why we have to come in after class?”  I was sincere and I did not sound rude
at all.

“OUT IN THE HALL RIGHT NOW!!” he demanded.

‘Holy smoke,’ I thought.  ‘I’m going to be killed.’

I got up out of my seat and went out into the hall.  He followed me out and
slammed the door behind him.  We walked about 6 meters away from the
class, to a deserted part of the school – everyone was in class.  I turned and
faced him.  I was also facing the class room.

Now, the brilliant architects who design the school had decided to put
windows right beside all the doors in all the class rooms.  This was apparently
supposed to create an open feeling in the school.  I don’t know about that,
but it sure was distracting.  Particularly at that moment because the whole
class was looking at me through that bloody window.

They were pointing and laughing at me, which only made matters worse
because I had a really difficult time trying not to laugh at this guy.

He looked like he was going to explode when he said to me, “You are the
most belligerent student I have ever had to teach.  How dare you question my
teaching.”

‘Is this guy nuts?’ I thought.  “Hold on, hold on.  I think you misunderstood
what I was saying,” I tried to explain.

“I understood perfectly what you were saying,” he responded.  “I may be just
a substitute, but I will not tolerate that degree of impertinence from any
student.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I said as I tried to explain.  “I was merely making an
observation that you weren’t teaching …”

“This certainly isn’t helping you any.”

“… That you weren’t assisting, helping, talking to any of the other students.
You seemed to have some free time with which I thought we could discuss
the events that would be taking place after class.”

It was after my explanation that I saw a bizarre transformation: he went from
beet red with anger to beet red with almost embarrassment.  He then smiled
and he started acting like we were best friends.

“Well, it was just a simple misunderstanding,” he said.  “I guess it’s no big
deal.”

We then walked back to class.  It was about time to go so he let us all out
early.  The other two guys didn’t have to stay after class or anything.  I
wasn’t very impressed.

Needless to say, I have hated that bloody guy ever since.