I was often in trouble, and that never really bothered me. I was probably the rowdiest girl in my class, a little Tom-boyish, and was never afraid to say what I wanted.

I think it was third grade (8 years old ?) when my teacher asked me where my homework was, and if I did it. I said it was somewhere in my desk. She yelled at me to find it, so I superficially rooted through my messy desk, which was full of papers. She then became furious and pushed me aside and literally threw my desk onto the floor, crashing, so that all of the many papers flew all over the place. Then she asked me which was my cubby. I pointed to it, and then she threw all of the papers out onto the floor, while roaring. It was a mess! It was like she was possessed by a devil.

I remember just looking at that teacher in astonishment. She ordered me to go to the principal's office. So I went...and I walked into his office and waged a formal complaint against her, telling him about her frequent violence (and screaming), about how she made the most popular boys in the class cry a lot, and how all of the students (except me) were afraid of her.

The principal listened to all of the above, silently. He then looked me in the eye and asked "Did you actually do the homework?"

"No, I didn't!" I responded.

"Well...What I'd like you to do is to go back and ask Mrs. X what she'd like you to do to make up for the homework. You can now go back."

I guess I was satisfied with what he suggested, but really hoped the teacher would get into big trouble. I had it in for her, and she deserved it. I do know that when I returned, she asked me what the principal said, and I told her. I don't recall what she asked me to do in recompense, other than to pick up the papers strewn all around.

I thought homework was optional, up until the event above. Maybe I did start doing a little more of it. My parents never asked about it. They weren't the types to care.

That same teacher often sent me out into the hallway when I was "bad". I never found that to be a punishment at all, because I'd go out and just dance down the hallways, to imagined music. Time would pass in this joyful reverie, until she'd open the door for me to return. She knew the hallway never taught me a lesson. Nor did being put in the corner, because I liked being there, especially if it was behind the coat and cubby section. There I would hide as if in a fort...daydreaming.

I actually don't remember her being as violent, or even screaming, after the above incident. Maybe the principal did say something to her about her behavior.