This incredibly zany intro was sponsored by
Dashlane. Haha! I’m using the internet, and my brain is
reaaal small, so I can only fit one password in there. Better use the same one everywhere! Oh no! Disposable green shirts dot com got hacked,
and now all of my other accounts are compromised. But worst of all, I’m almost out of shirts! Hello? I’m the hacker. I’m a totally different person and you have
to do what I say! Oh no! I’ll do anything that doesn’t need a shirt! Wait a minute, why would you Don’t worry! I’m taking it off right now! Oh how could I have prevented this? Well you could use Dashlane. What now? Yeah, Dashlane makes strong unique passwords
for each website you use and remembers them so you don’t have to. Wow! … What are two other things about it? It can also securely autofill things like
your credit card number, and send you alerts if a website you use gets breached. Oh … Will you be my friend? Head to Dashlane.com/timtom to get Dashlane
on your first device for free, use the promo code timtom to get 25% off Dashlane Premium,
and tune in next month for the surprise twist ending to TimTom Gets Hacked! I’ve been incredibly lucky that pretty much
every teacher I’ve ever had was great. There were a handful that I didn’t get along
with, but it was never anything too bad. Except in one instance. One of my elementary school teachers completely
ruined school for me. Teachers are such a big part of kids’ lives,
and I don’t think she handled my education with nearly enough care. Now this was a long time ago, and I’m hopeful
that by now she doesn’t have this effect on students any more. But I wasn’t articulate enough in the 6th
grade to properly express just how awful she made me feel, so I’m gonna do past-me a
solid and have a little rant about My Least Favorite Teacher. Strap in folks! My school had this program called GATE, which
stands for Gifted And Talented Education. Every now and then, a GATE teacher would make
their way around to every classroom and scoop up the GATE kids to go, I don’t know, play
with tangrams for an hour. Eventually the school decided that regularly
interrupting classes wasn’t a great idea, so they created the 4-5 combo class. About a dozen kids each from the 4th and 5th
grades would share a classroom and have an accelerated curriculum year round. The next year, that group of kids stayed with
the same teacher and became the 5-6 combo class. And the next next year, when the 6th graders
went off to junior high, the younger kids took their place at the top of the class,
and a new wave of 5th graders joined. I entered the GATE program with that initial
group of 4th graders, which means that I was in the combo class for. three. years. Usually, if you have a teacher that you don’t
get along with, you only have to deal with them for one year. But I had the worst teacher I’ve ever had
for three years! If that doesn’t deserve a rant, I don’t
know what does! Let’s call her… Mrs. K. For Karen. You know the type. I’ve talked to a handful of kids from the
combo class in the years since, and it’s not like I’ve been scientific with my data
collection, but the pattern I’ve noticed is that all the girls seem to have loved her,
and all the guys seem to have hated her. I don’t know what that means, but I detect… Bias! The combo class had two teachers, and when
we needed to be split up for grade-specific things, our other teacher would take the older
kids. Let’s call her Mrs. A. For awesome. So during my final year in the class, I would
occasionally get a break from the ever-present dread that Mrs. K caused. Like a glass of water in the Sahara desert... That might be a little dramatic, but that’s
how I felt! And you know what? Just because you’re young doesn’t mean
your feelings aren’t real. Mrs. K was an adult in a position of extreme
power. She got to decide if we could go to the bathroom
or not. More than anything it was her responsibility
to be like “Hey, I feel like we’re not getting along. What can we do to build trust?” But instead she straight up bullied me until
I cried on several occasions, spilled soda all over my copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet
of Fire and then denied it even though I watched her, and was just generally mean for three. Years! For example, one time near the end of the
school year, Mrs. A planned a little after-school celebration. She took everyone’s order for McDonalds
during the day, and then that evening we all came back to the school, ate dinner, and had
a little party. Told you she was awesome. All the kids trickled in and were sitting
in a circle talking. Everyone was pretty loud, but this was uncharted
territory, an EMPTY SCHOOL!? Neat! So, when Mrs. A tried to get everyone’s
attention they just didn’t hear her. But when she went to stand up and talk louder,
Mrs. K stopped her. I was sitting right next to them so I could
hear Mrs. K say something to the effect of, “Nope, just wait. They’ll figure it out.” She was deliberately telling Mrs. A to be
passive aggressive. Who does that? Even as a kid, that seemed obviously dumb,
so I did what I still think is one of the most mature things I’ve ever done. It was time for PROJECT *deep breath* Get
Their Attention... Dot net. I shouted “HEY EVERYBODY” and about half
of the kids looked at me. Now, as a kid who grew up pretty poor, I was
always told to pay attention to how much things cost when I ordered food at restaurants. I was keenly aware of the fact that Mrs. A
had just spent at least... forty… thousand dollars to buy nuggets and burgers for the
entire class. I said something like, “It’s cool that
Mrs. A took everyone's favorite orders and brought us all McDonalds. Not many teachers would do that, so I think
she deserves a round of applause.” And when half of the kids started clapping,
the rest joined in and started paying attention, too. I love it when a plan comes together. Then I said something like “Now we need
to be quiet so Mrs. A can pass all our food out, because I don’t know about you, but
I’m hungry.” I don’t think Mrs. K appreciated being shown
up by a literal child. But maybe that wouldn’t have happened if
she wasn’t deliberately being passive aggressive. One time I wrote a story about how a kid was
having a bad day and their teacher made it worse by being petty and mean. I wonder where I got the idea? This wasn’t for an assignment or anything
I just wrote it for fun. But when I was done, I was so excited that
I had finished a full story that I showed it to Mrs. A. But Mrs. K ended up reading
it too, and it was pretty obviously about her, which she didn’t like. Instead of doing the responsible thing and
using this opportunity to see things from my perspective, and perhaps taking a moment
to think about what she could do on her side to build some trust and form a healthier and
more productive relationship with one of her students, she got real mad and called a parent
teacher conference. So my mom and I sat down with her one day
after school and she went through all of things that “Really concerned her” but it was
clear that she was just personally offended for being called out. Luckily, my mom was like “Yeah... I don’t see any problem here.” *high five* There was something that happened that my
friends and I didn’t handle well. But instead of talking to everyone involved
and maybe teaching us how we could have handled it better, like a teacher is supposed to,
Mrs. K chose to humiliate my friend group in front of the entire class. There were about 6 of us who had become pretty
close friends. Basically, we’d always hang out at recess
and ask each other really deep philosophical questions like “Wouldn’t it be weird if
milk was green?” but then we’d realize that it wouldn’t, because if milk was green,
then that would be normal, and white milk would be weird. Wooah. One time I used the phrase “Personal Space
Bubble” and someone thought the word “Bubble” was particularly funny for some reason. I can’t remember exactly how it happened,
but it became an inside joke, and before long we ended up just calling our group “The
Bubble.” But it turns out that names are a powerful
thing. After a few months the entire class knew that
we had one, and they wanted in. We never set out to be exclusionary, it was
just an inside joke that other kids overheard. So, when someone who none of us knew very
well came up at lunch and asked if he could join The Bubble, it was like “That’s not
really how this works?” He just wanted to make friends. But it was a question that we hadn’t even
considered, and for lack of a more thoughtful response we kind of just awkwardly told him
no. That rejection really upset him, especially
after he must’ve worked up the courage to come ask us in the first place. So he went, crying, to Mrs. K.
Instead of taking us aside and talking to us about what happened in private, she called
us out in front of the entire class. She said something to the effect of “I’ve
been hearing all about the bubble for months, and now I understand that you’re going around
and telling kids that they can’t be in it.” Then I’ll never forget that she pointed
at me, and said “I’m popping the Bubble.” What does that even mean!? She didn’t talk through things with us and
set reasonable expectations, she was just like “Yup! I popped the bubble! Problem solved.” If she had taken the time to understand what
was really going on, then she could have helped us work through a better way to handle it
and set a good example for the class. But no, she singled us out in front of everyone,
and set a terrible example! Now how am I supposed to be a good person!? Sorry for getting so mad. Let’s end this on a high note. Ahhhh.
