"You can dish it out, but you can't take it."

In the 10th grade I took Advanced Algebra 2 with Mr. Timothy Burkhalter. At the time TB thought he was God's gift to high school level math. I'm not sure where he is now, nor do I care, for the tale I'm telling involves my deep distaste for both TB, Culvers and mathematics. There was a young, perhaps overly sassy Brigid Marshall roaming the mean halls of Lake Forest High School; she was never that into math as a subject, instead preferring hours reading and writing. She took AA2 because she had to graduate high school eventually. And, she was sassy, because it made time go by astronomically quicker.

One day in math Matt S. was getting railed by TB for using ink instead of a #2. Not many people noticed at first. The class was chatting about March Madness (because TB liked basketball), Culvers (because TB liked to eat, and shockingly enough, gave us extra credit for bringing back stolen elements from the fastfood chain), and the difficulties of being a high school student (because TB thought he could reach us). But, I was annoyed and sassy, so prompted by Matt S's use of pens, a simple question sprang from me like a baby from the loins:

"Why do we have to use pencils in math? I mean, we make mistakes in other classes and we're allowed pens."

And so ensued the verbal beating I received from my 10th grade math teacher. Somehow I ended up crying, refusing to leave his class to "clean up my face" because I "wanted everyone to see what [he] did to me." Then, ba ba ba! He said I had to leave the classroom or he'd call the dean. My retort: "The only reason I'm leaving is because I hate the dean, more than I hate you." Apparently he felt and later said, "I [could] dish it out, but I [couldn't] take it."

Thus I began my career as an angry woman.