Saturday, 17 August 2013

Horrid Health Teacher

So we've heard about my horrible gym teachers ('Horrible Gym Class'). But what I haven't told you about is my horrid health teacher. We'll call her Miss A.

Miss A was a new teacher, who had only just graduated the year before. We were the first class she had ever taught. And by the end of it, I prayed we would be the last. Although she started out quite nice, it quickly escalated. At this point in my life, I was diagnosed as just juvenile idiopathic arthritis. I was also taking Methotrexate and wasn't feeling well- I was always feeling sick and cold. Rest assured, I had no tolerance for nonsense. Unfortunately, that's all the class was.

I would like to let you know right now that she knew I was sick. She knew all about my arthritis and getting shots and stuff.

In one particular class, we were talking about drugs. The ones you inject, in particular. That's when Miss A informed us that the more often you have injections, the more likely you are to become addicted to drugs later on. And there I was, a young girl taking a shot every week and blood draws once or twice a month. At that point, I just wanted to stop being poked and prodded. And she looked at me right as she informed my class of this. To this day, I still can't tell if she said that because she actually thought it was true or if she just wanted to see me get mad. And no, she was not talking about drug dependancy of individuals who use pain medication for long periods of time to relieve chronic pain- which happens and is not purposeful. She actually said "people who get injections more often are at a higher risk of becoming addicted to injectable drugs later on." Please, tell my friend E all about that: He was injecting himself with insulin because of his diabetes at that point.

I also remember her telling us about what a person using drugs may look like: Pale, sickly looking, tired all the time and with awkward movements. Guess what I looked like? You got it: Pale, sickly looking, tired all the time and with awkward movements. I don't think this would've been so bad if she hadn't been staring at me the entire time. It was worse when I got up to go to my next class and was limping and she looked me up and down.

Miss A really didn't care for me. I only participated as much as I needed to in her class, and the rest of the time I sat scribbling in my note book with a smirk. I really thought she was an idiot, and still do. I mean, she began to tell us about alcohol. However, she didn't really feel the need because 'it's safer with much less risk of addiction,' and 'not dangerous.' Tell that to the boy who lost his brother because of a drunk driver, and to my friend who's family has a huge alcohol problems. I really hated seeing him blink back tears.

I honestly have had an excellent education. I ended up being accepted to one of the best schools you could go to, and even when I was younger I went to great schools. Almost All my teachers were amazing. But not Miss A.

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