Ten in ten Irvington students suffer from emotional trauma when their mentor they knew for only 180 days vanishes from the face of Earth. Why? I don’t know. I didn’t study psychology. However, I am unfortunately one of those students.
Before I turn into a ghost with my graduation attire, allow me to share how my teachers initiated my unnecessary character development, and rate how much they’ve broken my heart when I found out they were leaving.
Mrs. Yuu-Dunnomei
She was my third grade teacher… or should have been. Yuu-Dunnomei took maternity leave right after I was assigned to her class, so for the whole year we were stranded with many substitutes. I was also stuck with a violent guy who knocked his chair off a desk which hit my head and gave me brain damage for the next nine years. I suppose it makes sense that handling one kid is easier than thirty.
Emotional Damage: 6.5/10
Mr. Walkup
One of the substitutes for Yuu-Dunnomei was Walkup. Yes, that was exactly how you pronounced his name. Each substitute would teach for about two to three months, allowing us to bond with them, which is why this man is included in my list. He was likely seven feet tall, but I’m uncertain because I was small enough to fit in a toilet. Walkup lived up to his name by bringing his gecko to class, but one day accidentally kicked its tank that inconveniently sat in the middle of the classroom floor. The class screamed as if that Geico-looking creature were going to eat us.
Emotional Damage: 8/10
Mrs. K(esha?)
She was one of my old elementary PE teachers. I swear, she looked like Kesha. I don’t know about her singing skills, but I certainly know that K(esha?) always screamed my name because she forgot everyone else’s. I don’t like being watched in PE — I pant like a dog. But it’s okay. In return, I forgot her whole last name. I also probably hit my lifetime hug limit with her (why was it always when we were both sweating?).
Emotional Damage: 6/10
Mrs. Sodun
Sodun was a memorable fifth grade teacher who eventually ran off to Arizona to escape my horrible class that I was convinced was a zoo. According to very reliable sources (my friends), before retiring, the old principal purposely gave her a poor combination of students. I remember asking Sodun about a test question, which she explained to me three times before I acted like I understood. She’s still friends with me on Pokémon Go…
Emotional Damage: 7/10
Mr. Moldonna
I have too many crazy stories about this elementary science teacher. I can’t believe he said “ew” when my tooth fell out, like I chose to do it. Holding a tooth in his face isn’t nearly as bad as the time he caused a plague and wiped out over half my fifth grade class because there was a piece of moldy bread hidden in one of the science lab cabinets. Was that an actual experiment? I was told he transferred afterward, which sounds very generous.
Emotional Damage: No comment.
Ms. Stagolponyboigh
Stagolponyboigh was my eighth grade English teacher who brought her favorite student (not me) Starbucks. Did we have beef? She kept my best artworks without asking me if I wanted them back and only returned useless worksheets neither of us wanted. She also made us do IReady English practice too many times, leading me to uncharacteristically start doing IReady math instead.
Emotional Damage: 3/10
Ms. COOKIEMASTER44
As my eighth grade history teacher, she decided to scar me for life by making us remember a portion of the Declaration of Independence. I didn’t think we’d be tested on it, so I barely studied. She told me to do my best… BUT I GOT A 44/100. Though, COOKIEMASTER44 rewarded me with a giant Crumbl cookie as if I were her A+ student (I wasn’t…).
Emotional Damage: 6.5/10
Ms. Nikusghay
I enjoyed her eleventh grade English class so much that my emotional damage has caused The Voice’s room, which used to be Nikusghay’s, ceiling to crumble. Why should the school be reconstructed when the legacy of our teachers resides within these classes? Nikusghay, I will always remember you and your self-made outfits. I can still see you in the classroom, pointing out Nick Carraway sweating nonstop in the 1974 movie “The Great Gatsby.”
Emotional Damage: 10/10
Ms. Kathairbol :,(
Before you leave this year, I would like to say I’ll miss the comfort of knowing you’ve been carrying this class and putting up with us like it’s your full-time job (oh wait). I might have been stoic, but the news of your departure hit me harder than that chair from third grade.
Emotional Damage: Heart attack.
In conclusion, I fear my children will inherit generational trauma thanks to my emotional scars. For the first time, a 10/10 is terrifying.
Watch these teachers rate me a one.
