Day 135- Steemiteducation Homework- Share Your Whacky Story from a Class-Kidnapped by a Crazy Teacher

source

---

Today I came across a story by my ecotrain sister-in-arms @sharoonyasir about some wacky experience she had in school.
I also have quite a story, which I wanted to write anyway, to tell, so this @steemiteducation homework gives me the perfect stage for it.

Kidnapped by a crazy teacher

I forgot exactly when, probably in grade ten or eleven, we had one sports teacher, a bit of a strange guy, but in that age all adults seem strange to you, so we did not care too much, in fact we quite liked him, because his strangeness meant he was also different from the other teachers, so at least not so boring.

He was quite the Hulk, his physical presence commanded respect, and his mental state was such, that he would always challenge us, push us, drill us, but in a way we liked sort of, at least the boys, and he was more of a boys guy anyway.
He was, I guess, in his late forties, so old for us teenagers, but still fit.

After some time, a few months I guess, but I do not remember exactly, we were told that he was on sick leave and would probably not come back. So we got a female sports teacher to replace him.

One day we were about to have our sports class and were waiting in front of the gym for our new teacher, when Mr X (I´m not sure about his name anymore, it´s been more than thirty years since then) turned up and told us that he was well again, would conduct our sports class and we would take the public bus to the usual sports ground together.
When we told him that we were waiting for Mrs. Y, our new sports teacher, he said she was ill and he was her replacement.

So we went to the sports ground together were he lined us all up in one row, got his automatic weapon out and started shooting at us.

No way, mate, this was a German teacher, not some American psycho, we´re not that whacko!

So he lined us up and gave a very dramatic speech to us, about endurance, challenges, overcoming hardship, yadda, yadda and then he spilled it:
“Today you will run the ten thousand meters for the first time! I will run with you for the first rounds, but since I am so much older than you, I will drop out after some time and cheer for you from the sideline. Ready?“ “Yes Mr X!“

So we went on the track and started. 10,000 meters, that´s 25 rounds around the soccer field.
Nobody had done such a long distance before, so some of us started off a bit too fast, me for example, got a stitch, had to walk inbetween to recover, but Mr X kept pushing us not to give up, that it was all about finishing, not about winning or a certain time or record.

After some time, as announced, from the sideline, but still, round after round, whenever we passed him he had some encouraging words, some pep talk for us, as we kept dragging ourselves through this mental boredom and physical pain of 25 rounds.

Not all of us did make it, quite a few dropped out, but with the heap of misery behind Mr X at the sideline getting bigger every few rounds, I grew ever more determined to finish.

One of my friends came in first after a respectable 45 minutes. For a long time I had tried to keep up with him, but in the last few rounds I had to let him go, with him finally being one whole round ahead of me. That hurt!
But I also experienced the joy of lapping some kids, many of those who would not make it through the whole 25 rounds, during the race (race probably a bit too euphemistic a word for our sorry show) and came in at fifty minutes, so not too shabby, for a kid with no long distance experience beyond 800 meters.

After the class was over we went back to the city by bus and since it was the last class of the day, we did not return to the school building, but split up and went home directly.

Little did we know that a few minutes after Mr X had taken us, all hell had broken loose in our school when Mrs Y arrived in front of the gym but her class was nowhere to be found. After some time they concluded that the whole class must have decided on a collective sports truancy and gone to town or home or whatever human beings on the brink of insanity due to hormons (teenagers) do in such instances.

But slowly, over the following days, the whole truth transpired.
We learned that Mr X had been already expelled from school service because of his mental or psychological or whatever problems when he took us to the sports ground, so the stunt he had pulled there was basically kidnapping. The school learned that we did not just sod off, but were instead taken by a derranged teacher, who used us to play some kind of survival of the fittest game with us, eliminating the weak, maybe something he learned in Hitler Youth.

If the school had told us about his status before, we would have never gone with him, but those were the days when you didn´t tell children too much, so we believed him and followed him, one guy could just take a whole class with him.

I guess nowadays, there would be newspaper and internet articles, probably youtube videos about this, worried parents would threaten to sue the school, but this were the late seventies, so nothing happened.
I think, I did not even tell my parents, since I did not consider it a big deal.

We never saw him again, we did not know what happened to him, if he was charged with something, and while the other teachers, especially Mrs Y, were quite shocked about the incident, for us kids it was all just a big joke, some welcome relief from the daily grind of school.