Our teachers aren't always right.
In fact, some teachers shouldn't be in the field in the first place, if putting students down is any indication.
After Redditor cassperosenloff asked the online community, "Have you ever gotten to tell a former teacher/or someone else, "Look at what I've become. You were wrong"? If so, what is your story?" people weighed in with their stories.
If these stories teach you anything worthwhile, it's that success is the best revenge.
"Well, I was offered a place..."
My art teacher in my last two years of high school (in the UK) told me I was talentless and lazy, and caught me and my friends once in the school concourse looking at my portfolio of set and costume designs I was prepping for an interview for theatre school in London. He grabbed it from my friend, leafed through with a sneer, and said I'd get nowhere with that rubbish and no college would take me, let alone one in London.
Well, I was offered a place on the course the day after my interview, mostly on the strength of my portfolio. Fast forward to my final year in college and I was designing the sets for one of the BA Acting class's shows, and I don't recall why but we needed chemistry equipment as set dressing. As I was back up in Scotland for a long weekend, I called my old chemistry teacher, who I did get on with, and he agreed to give me a loaf of stuff he'd had lying about in his garage.
I went into the school to pick the stuff up, intending just to go in and out again without speaking to anyone else, but do I not run into the art teacher in the corridor and he demands to know what I'm doing there. "Oh, just getting some props for the show I'm designing, down in London."
His face was a picture. Funny thing is, I've since had illustrations professionally published, have sold paintings and I actually can't even remember that art teacher's name.
"I wouldn't say he was friendly..."
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I have one that was a very quick "you were wrong".
My life until I was 11 or so was pretty normal, but serious issues at home started to to really take a toll on me. I turned inward as I tried to cope, and become progressively more quiet and shy at school.
Starting in 6th grade, I played the tuba in band. In 7th grade, I was really excited for the solo and ensemble competition because I'd get to play more than half and quarter notes. Me playing the tuba was actually hilarious because I was so small for my age, I had to sit on two phone books to reach the mouthpiece. I practiced my solo like crazy, both with and without my piano accompanist, but the head band director at my middle school (yeah, there were two), insisted everyone had to come and 'audition' for him before he'd let us go. The rules, however, were explicit - that was not a requirement. Still, I went to my scheduled audition the afternoon before the competition.
My older brother was in his band and the source of most of my family's struggles and not unrelated, the band director hated him. I assume because of my brother, he was a real jerk to me. I was so intimidated by him I couldn't even get through the first few measures. He yelled at me, told me I was not allowed to go to the competition because I'd embarrass him and the school with my performance.
Then, for the first time in my scholastic life, I felt part of myself push back against the authority. He was probably ~6'0" and I was this tiny kid who probably weighed 90 lbs and was no more than 5'0"; I remember rage filling me over how I was being treated. My jaw clenched and I coldly said "It's not your decision."
He stared at me for a moment then launched into a tirade telling me about how lazy and untalented I was. I rushed out of the band hall, tears streaming down my face, but resolute nonetheless.
I showed up the next morning, and he scowled at me as I came in. I first played in my ensemble with 4 other brass players, and when we got our score back I couldn't be more thrilled. The scores went from 5, at the worst, to 1 at the best. Judges could also give out a handful of 'Outstanding' ratings to those with 1's who did particularly well. My ensemble got a '1 - Outstanding'.
I still remember the room I went to go play my solo in. I remember the judge and my accompanist both smiling at me, and the judge telling me to begin whenever I felt ready and how different the tone was from the 'audition' with my band director.
When I was done I remember walking into the school cafeteria, score in hand, to see my band director standing there, glaring at me. As I got near, he shoved his hand out without saying a word, wanting to see how poorly I'd done. The confusion on his face was one of the sweetest things I'd ever seen. On my solo I'd gotten a '1 - Outstanding'.
He didn't say a word to me, but the scowl on his face melted away to something more neutral and he walked away. I'm sure my beaming smile didn't encourage him to want to say anything positive to me.
I wouldn't say he was friendly to me after that, but he definitely showed restraint, and I hope a modicum of respect, after that.
"My sixth grade math teacher..."
My sixth grade math teacher would do this thing where she'd make people stay in at lunch. She'd do it mostly if you pissed her off or if she just wanted to. I was terrible at mathematics and my grades in her class were a bit abysmal. I vividly reminisce about one certain day where she was irritated and furious due to my lack of understanding of GCF (greatest common factor) and she went on a whole tirade. One of the quotes that stood out to me was "Cute ain't gon' get ya too far."
Fast forward 5 years later. I graduated high school a year in advance and made National Honors Society. My chemistry teacher, who I liked even though I was garbage at chemistry, hugged me at graduation. The best part was that barely any of my friends or teacher knew and it came as a shock when I walked across that stage.
"I showed her!"
In 6th grade everyone took a typing class where, among other computer basics, we were supposed to be learning how to touch type. I was struggling a bit because I was mostly using the correct fingers on the correct keys, but I watched the keyboard and not the screen. Also, I could never get the hang of the two shift keys. I'd only use the right shift key which meant I was using the wrong pointer finger when doing some of the middle letters as capitals. The teacher insisted that I was never going to be able to do anything on computers and would fall behind.
Fast forward to senior year and I'm taking a Lotus123 class with the same teacher. I'm now the top student and she's asking me to go help everyone else after I've finished my assignments.
I showed her!
"If I never get the chance..."
When I was a senior in high school, I missed a lot of class because I was severely depressed, and no one knew/cared. I had this English teacher who at first I was excited to have as he'd taught my mom. I realized he was a smart@ss jerk who often had his foot in his mouth. Anyway, after I'd racked up several absences, I had a friend in that class tell me this teacher had told the class I would never amount to anything. There was zero reason for my friend to lie, he was a trustworthy drama free guy. Those words really stuck with me and honestly they still hurt a little.
The thing is, now I'm becoming a teacher in May. I have seen him in the last year or so and I was very tempted to say something. If I never get the chance I'll be fine, because he's already shown me what not to be.
"I was scolded..."
I was scolded for my laziness all through school by parents and teachers. I'm now a very successful software developer from developing tools to help people be lazier. And I don't work particularly hard. I would love the opportunity to stick that in some choice faces.
"My teacher used to tell me..."
My teacher used to tell me I was too lazy, and I couldn't hope to make a living doing nothing.
I'm a custodian, and I just bought my 2nd home at 42.
"Was accused of plagiarism..."
Was accused of plagiarism by my English teacher on the first assignment I handed her. I asked her to back up her accusation (it was BS) she was unable to do so.
I refused to attend her classes for two years, I camped out in the tiny library in the school during English lessons. I got the list of poetry and texts we were supposed to study from my classmates and used past exam papers to get an idea of how questions might be asked.
Sat the state final exams in English and stuck my results under her nose, a B1 (B+ elsewhere). I told her it must have been some very fine plagiarism to cheat in that exam and get that score undetected. I will never forget the look on her face.
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