 School is important, but getting revenge, is more importanter. If you like true revenge stories, you found the best place for your vengeful needs. We start off with a racist teacher who likes to bully kids in his class, but when recorded in during his most inglorious moment, he became infamous. Followed by a biased teacher, who suspends a good student for a stupid reason, making the student focus on destroying her career, leaving nothing but a pile of ash. A teacher falsely claims a student fakes her injury and treats her bad for it, but a protective mom steps in, making sure the teacher receives a fair treatment and return. Lastly, a shallow and cranky dance teacher bullies the wrong girl, for not being as perfect as her own daughter. But her protective dad gets revenge for two. Before we begin, since the like button has an unignorable need for being tickled, tickle it right before it has a toilet emergency. Naturally, viewer discretion is advised. These revenge acts might be disturbing to snowflakes. Some details might be a bit blurry, my story happened around 14 years ago. I'm a 25-year-old male now. Also, stay in for the end, I promise it will be worth it. It all started when I was 12 years old. My grade 7 teacher was a 47-year-old man who was infamous for being intimidating and, in my opinion, abusive to his students. He was the disciplinarian of the school. He was in charge of keeping track of detentions and announcing who will be staying after class every Friday during assembly. We suspected at that time that the reason why he never got fired was either because his students were too scared to report him, or because of the fact that the principal was his brother-in-law. Reasons why I hated him personally, he was constantly making vaguely racist remarks, complaining about the new South Africa and constantly bringing up how his life was better during the apartheid regime, he's a white guy who was raised on a farm. I always felt like he had an issue with me as a person. Because I'm a practicing Muslim. He would make the class laugh at how funny Muslim women looked with their heads wrapped up. His jokes about Muslims missing out on eating bacon were endless, in fact, he one day purposely stood in front of my desk eating a cheese and bacon panini. He used to often rant about how the school is no longer a pure Christian institution as it once was back in the day. He would say these things and glance at either me, my twin sister, or the black students in the class who practice their own African religions. When it was his birthday, my mom encouraged me to buy him a gift. I spent up my pocket money, which was already limited, to buy him a big slab of chocolate and a long piece of dried sausage. Throughout the day, he would get gifts from students in his class and others. He would get up from his desk to greet and thank them, and then shake their hand. I remember noticing this because I always found it weird when students shook hands with teachers. Because of how small our hands were compared to theirs. However, when I gave him my gift, all he did was look at me for like a second, look away and nod his head slightly. I remember being thankful for not offering my handout for him to shake, because I thought he might have ignored it in front of the entire class. To say I felt like crap is an understatement. The experience that made me hate him the most happened just before we wrote second or third term exams. I was walking with my friend David back from the tuck shop during interval. We took a shortcut between the English and Africans kindergarten classes and saw a group of boys huddled together. One of them walked towards us and I saw that he had one of those camping multi-tools with the folding knife out and instantly got a fright. He told us, give me your stuff before I cut your neck and then started laughing and walked back to his friends. It was clearly a joke, but David looked close to tears and I was startled too. I told the guy, Zander, that he's not allowed to have knives at school and that I'm going to tell my teacher. We walked straight to our teacher and when we spoke to him, David burst into tears. We told him what happened and David was sobbing when he said he felt like he was going to die. Our teacher barely looked up from his computer while we were speaking and when he asked for the guy's name, we told him the name and he said he will deal with it in for us to go out for interval again. I went home and told my mom who I felt didn't fully believe me at the time. The next day we saw Zander, we were basically poking fun at him for getting into trouble with our teacher and that he's likely getting expelled at worst or sitting a Saturday detention at best. He laughed back at us and said our teacher just came to his class, asked to speak to him and told him to never bring it to school again. No detention, no suspension. Basically nothing. He still had the knife on him for the rest of the day. We were upset, so we went back to our teacher and I told him that Zander said that he didn't get into trouble for having the knife. He gave me the ugliest look as if I was bothering him and coldly said to me that maybe I should fix my late coming problem before I try to get other people in trouble. I would come late four or five times a month because my mom's car's battery terminals were broken, so the battery would run flat and she couldn't afford to have it fixed. She had to put the neighbor's battery in her car, start it, and then idle it while she took that battery out and put her own battery back into charge up. I felt betrayed by my teacher. The person who was supposed to make us feel safe while we were away from home. When I spoke to my friends about it, they told me that Zander was actually the principal's son, meaning he was my teacher's nephew. I decided to take the opportunity to speak to my friends about getting evidence that our teacher is treating students unfairly. Three of my four close friends had camera phones. I sat in the far left corner, my one friend sat in the opposite corner by the door, our other friend sat in the middle, and the last friend was right at the back of the class by the window on the left. One thing about our teacher, he did not give a flying frick about where we sat as long as we answered him and didn't bother anyone when we swapped seats. We came to an agreement that whenever our teacher would sound like we was going to say something vaguely racist or Islamophobic, we would all discreetly take videos of him. Any private conversation we had with him was voice recorded on our phones. We caught him on camera telling a really racist joke about black people and saying that Hindus must have a lot of problems since they have so many gods. We caught him saying a lot of bad things, but a lot slipped through our fingers because we weren't fast enough. It was extremely difficult to keep our friend group motivated to record him and not tell anyone else about it. It was especially difficult because at the time I had a hand-me-down Samsung which was seen as an expensive phone at the time. My mom prohibited me from taking it to school. She instead bought a cheaper phone for us that could only make calls and send SMSs. This was in case she needed to reach us in an emergency. I got caught several times sneaking my camera phone to school. My biggest mess up at school was when my mom phoned me on my Samsung and I answered it. I was a real dumbass. After around a month, we decided that we couldn't let it go any further. One of our friends was a black guy named Tendah. Tendah was a problem child. His mom died when he was four and his dad was an alcoholic. He was raised mostly by his uncle who I think was a pimp. He used to act out at school because of undiagnosed ADHD. His dad and uncle didn't believe in learning disabilities and always assumed he was just lazy and badly behaved. Tendah especially got onto our teacher's nerves not only because of his skin color, but because he would bring broken calculators from home and take them apart during class. One day our teacher told him to clear his desk and throw away the bits of plastic and calculator crap. He ignored the teacher. The teacher then started screaming at him and Tendah done the only logical thing in 12, 13 year old would do in such a situation. He mockingly put two pencils into his ears. Our teacher lost his shit, grabbed Tendah and threw him against the door. The narrow window pane cracked and Tendah's head was bleeding. He told us he was fine during interval afterwards and we put money together to buy him a sprite. I almost cried when my friend, who sat way behind me, said he got the whole thing on camera. We didn't even trust that the whole class's testimony would get him into trouble. We decided that enough was enough. Enter our revenge. First we showed the video to Tendah's uncle who showed it to his father. Then I showed my mom all the other videos and recordings. She lost her mind. One of my friends sent all of it to his older sister who had a Facebook account and she posted it there and tagged the school and as many parents as she knew. It blew up. Parents and people from around the province phoned the school demanding answers as to what is going to happen to our teacher. He was immediately suspended. There were rumors circulating that he had to go into hiding because Tendah's uncle and his friends were looking to get to him. I even met to Tendah's dad for the first time in the weeks after the whole thing exploded. He liked to joke that his dad sobered up especially for this. The principal pulled Xander out of the school. We never saw him again. My mom told me an investigation was launched against the school because of the improper handling of bullying complaints. If I remember correctly, three English kids in my class alone spoke out against teachers dismissing their complaints of bullying by the Afrikaans kids. We were a mostly white Afrikaans speaking school with three Afrikaans classes but only one English class per grade. They called us Saudis, which was short for South Peel which literally translates as Salty Pippi. If you get what I'm saying, it's a derogatory term for English speaking white South Africans. It means you're one leg in a South Africa, your other leg is in England, so your Pippi is hanging in the ocean. We only saw our teacher once after he was suspended. He looked badly beaten up and was accompanied by a policeman and two other male teachers so he could gather the rest of his stuff from his class. But it didn't end there because so many kids needed the evidence that they were being bullied and nothing was done because of it. The CCTV footage was brought up. My friend's mother who was part of the school governing body that time told us a few years ago that when they reviewed the footage, it became apparent that the principal was having an affair with one of the grade two teachers. He could be seen grabbing her booty at the furthest point away from the camera. They slipped up a few times and kissed in clear view of the camera. I guess once you're surrounded by the cameras at work every single day, you kind of forget that they're there. It was very apparent that they thought they couldn't be seen. My aunt sells Tupperware and one of her regular customers and close friends is the principal's ex-wife. Not only did she leave him, but they were not married in community of property due to a prenup agreement. The house they lived in was in her name since before marriage, so she effectively made him homeless because none of his family wanted to take him in. He ran into severe debt from staying in guest houses and burned many bridges from overstaying his welcome at friends. As for my teacher, his reputation was destination fricked. He served jail time, don't know how long, and eventually left the country because it seemed everyone knew his face from the media attention he received. The reason why I made this post, I was never going to tell this story online as I've told it over and over through the years since primary school. But I felt I had to because of what I experienced at the beginning of this year. My family is part of a nonprofit organization that has feeding schemes all over the country. The last Friday feat of February, I'm helping as security as I usually do since we're few volunteers and there's many homeless people who are on drugs and some can get violent. I'm walking down the line to make sure there are no fights or anything that could start a riot and I see somebody. The familiar face in a tattered, yellowish white button down and mud cake shoes working his way down the line. My old principal is standing there waiting for a bowl of stew and bread with absolutely no idea who's standing beside him. Obviously he wouldn't have recognized me but I never forgot his face. I'm not going to lie, I couldn't help but feel all the emotions and a single tear appeared out of the bottom of my left sunglass lens. Seeing him brought back the feelings I had when I was 12 years old in seventh grade, trying absolutely every excuse in the book to not have to go to school and be bullied by my teacher. So yeah, for those of you who are still reading, this is the end of how my friends and I destroyed the lives of my teacher and principal. If you got this far and are feeling depressed, worthless or less than your peers, I love you. I appreciate you and you are seriously fucking awesome. I am a sophomore in high school. We have four assistant principals in our high school for freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors. Anyways, my school is a very left-sided school. Most of the teachers are very liberal and honestly don't let you share your own opinion if you are conservative. One day I decided to post my own opinion on my Snapchat story. Bad idea. I posted how it is my own opinion that girls shouldn't wear makeup as I just simply don't find it attractive. Some girls started a rumor that I was talking about a specific girl and she and her friends came at my physical appearance and my nationality. I made a bad decision and called her out for cheating on her boyfriend and called her a hoe. She got really mad, deleted her stories and she made it seem like I was simply just coming at her for no reason. I was already pissed. I have tons of screenshots of what was said by both of us. However, I couldn't stop this now. I had 175 views already and the amount of screenshots I had on that story was 86. People started making memes about me, calling me a weasel, gerbil, said my forehead was big and everything. Many kids made rude memes about me. It really hurt, but I knew I still had some friends. I go to school the next day and I'm getting threats to get beat up and people are spreading rumors about me. I was distraught, but I fought through it. As I was getting my lunch, a group of at least 15 girls circled around me and started yelling at me. The girl I was talking to at the time was on my side surprisingly and she went and yelled at all those girls to back off. Turns out, someone told the sophomore assistant principal. She was pissed that I was just mansplaining and I didn't know anything about girls or women or why they were makeup. Turns out, someone told the principal the wrong story and didn't show the assistant principal's screenshots of everything. Shit escalated quickly and she started yelling at me and I kept saying that wasn't the full story. Turns out, someone made fake screenshots and gave it to her. I was surprised at this and I even showed her everything what I posted, but she said I deleted it. I showed her all the things people made with the name not blurred out and she was now surprised. She called them up and told them not to do it anymore. Then they just got let off with a warning after they left. She told me I was going to have to be suspended. She was a real skank and I don't know why she suspended me for this. I was really mad that I was suspended for at least two days, all because of a Snapchat post that wasn't even that bad. Getting suspended means a lot to me since I'm a good student and I have had perfect attendance since first grade. This is why I was about to get into national honor society. Now, because I'm suspended, my chance became really low. The minute I got home, my parents instantly talked to me and sided with me. They even said I could just treat it like it was a snow day and I didn't even get punished. They were pissed too. This is where the revenge starts. I sat at the desk in my room on my computer and I thought what I could do. I looked up my assistant principal's name on Google to see if I can find any information. I find her Instagram and her Facebook. She's quite young actually, like around 26 to 30. I decided to make a fake account posing as a random person so she could accept my follow request. I had to buy followers and make posts so it doesn't seem to suspicious. I think I spent $30 on followers and likes, I'm not sure. I needed to make sure this would work. I soon got a notification at around 5 or 6 p.m. saying she accepted my follow request. Perfect. I scrolled down her pictures and this was before Instagram's stupid layout update so you could still see her posts. She had around 450 posts, could be a little less, could be a little more, I just assume around 450. I scrolled down and saw pictures of her husband and two year old with her. He wasn't tagged, so he probably doesn't have an Instagram. Not a big deal, so I scrolled down more. Then, I saw a picture of her. Except, she was in a Hooters uniform. I thought to myself that usually people work two jobs, but this picture was very odd. It was one of those pictures you could slide right and you could look at more pictures. The next picture was with a kid that looked really, really familiar. I then saw a bit of his shirt. I couldn't tell what was really on it, but I saw that it had my high school's colors. I then instantly realized who it was. The junior that was the captain of the varsity football team. I was so curious, so I slid to the next picture. He was grabbing her booty while hugging her and she was looking up at him like he was her husband. I was so shook and I had to make a screenshot. I keep scrolling through her Instagram and it's just her and this kid. Then I found the perfect picture. She was kissing him and it was definitely at a house party. I knew what I had to do. I had to screenshot this. Then, I quickly went on Facebook. I found pictures of her husband and he was tagged. I knew his name now, so I looked him up on white pages. He lived at the same address as her, so I had to do this during school. I found out where he worked and so I quickly printed out the pictures that I found. This was the best thing. I also planned to email the pictures to the school. She shouldn't suspend people for a stupid reason and she shouldn't be kissing her students either. I went to sleep knowing this was going to work. I woke up between nine and 10 that day and was ready for this. I grabbed my bike and made the six-mile trip to get to their house across the city. I am on the varsity soccer team, so I am quite in shape. This took me about 20 minutes and when I got there I saw his car in the driveway. Great, he didn't leave for work yet. I simply just put the pictures in their mailbox, knocked on the door and biked off as quick as I could. I had to wait until at least seven o'clock to email the school. I made an entirely new email address and emailed it at around 6.30 because I couldn't wait. They emailed back almost right away and they said they will deal with it right away. Since today was my last day of being suspended, I was ready to go back to school tomorrow. I woke up in the morning really happy and excited and I couldn't wait to see what was going to unfold. In our lunch, the assistant principal, along with a few teachers, walk around monitoring the lunch. I then see the principal, along with two police officers, pull the assistant principal and the student out. The whole lunch room gets quiet and so many people are recording. I smirked really openly when I saw this happen. I asked one of the monitors to get a bathroom passed just so I could hear what was going on. He told me I could not go right now as some thing is going on. I was kind of sad about this but also savored Chadenfreude. I knew what was going on but I couldn't tell anyone. Now some stuff happened in the next few days but I'll just sum it up. First day after, the day after this happened she didn't show up, but the student did. I asked him what happened but he wouldn't say. All I knew was that he wasn't in trouble. That made me glad because he didn't have a reason to be in trouble and that wasn't my goal. Five days after, since it was a four-day weekend that week as we had Friday till Monday off, we came to school back on Tuesday. I noticed her office was empty. I was really stunned she got fired and so I looked up on our state's court case search. There was already one case and it was hers. There were charges pressed against her, something like cause child 13 to 18 to view sexual activity. Three weeks later, the school wanted to hide this so of course no news came out but a new case has opened up. Her divorce case. I saw this and I instantly knew I succeeded. She should not have ever been an assistant principal. As she was extremely hateful and biased, you can even add perv to that list. Now, she is serving 10 months in prison and I don't feel bad at all. I'm a 15 year old female and have had a long and elaborate history with injuries, especially breaking my arm. Starting from literally the day I was born, my health has been complicated. I have a few conditions but none serious enough to impact my daily life as I know it. I have a very weak immune system and somewhat easy to break bones. On top of that, I am the definition of clumsy and I'm also a huge idiot who gets herself into dangerous situations for fun. My mom has obviously known me from birth and knows just the extent of my weird bad luck and health issues. I've broken my arms a collective 13 times over my entire life and almost every time I got injured or sick, it seems somebody had something to say about it. I don't know why but teachers just love to say that students that get hurt off in our attention seeking fakers and a lot of relationships with authority figures have been harmful because of this. Every time it's the same. For some reason a teacher doesn't believe me, they call me a liar in front of everyone. I get bullied for a while and then I have to try and prove that I'm not faking. I could post so many stories about teachers doing this but this is a story about the time my mom actually managed to get revenge. This all took place around seventh grade. I was 12 at the time and I had broken my wrist by climbing on top of something I wasn't supposed to and then falling off like a dumbass. My wrist was in a Velcro cast since I'm allergic to the regular cast material as they figured out through many cases of trial and error. My teacher, let's call her Mrs. Tablet since this took place while we were learning about Egyptian tablets. She taught history and our personalities clashed a bit. I'm more of a creative, adventurous free thinker type and she was very conservative by the book and proper. We hadn't had any real issues before this but we just didn't mesh well. She was absent one day and we had a sub in. I knew the sub is one of my teacher's friends and one of my bully's mom. I didn't like her but I was still respectful in class and just tried to get my work done. She got me in trouble for doodling on my paper once or twice but other than that everything was fine or so I thought. The next day I went into class like usual. We were working on an assignment about Egypt and their tablets when Mrs. Tablet called me over to her desk. I went over thinking she'd just get onto me for drawing on the back of my homework or something only to get bombarded with a bunch of really weird questions. She started asking if I'd know why she called me up to her. I politely told her I didn't. To which she asked how long I've had the cast so far. I responded, about a week now, why? She asked me if I really needed that cast and that the substitute told her she saw me take it off. I told her it's a cast. I couldn't take it off because it would hurt too much. She asked that if she would ask the class they'd say I need that cast. And if she called my parents, they'd say the same thing. I told her yes, since they were the ones who brought me to the hospital. All of this conversation was done right in front of the class. She then dismissed me and people looked at me weird for the rest of class. As I later learned, apparently the substitute had told Mrs. Tablet that I'd taken off my cast as soon as I left class. I didn't, and that I threw it in my locker like, ha, I'm getting away with doing less work. So basically, she pretended I was a bad guy in a crappy high school movie. I don't know why she said this but it had my teacher convinced that I was a liar and a fake. I technically could remove my cast since it was Velcro but that would have been extremely painful and it's not like I could just walk around without it. I wasn't going to make a big deal about it at the time but it turns out she was serious about calling my parents. But she made the mistake of calling my mom. Now me and my mother don't have a perfect relationship. She has anger issues so we don't always get along well but she loves me very much and doesn't let people like this mess with me if she can stop it. According to my mom, Mrs. Tablet called her all cocky and said things like, apparently your daughter is wearing a cast, did you know that? And we all know how dramatic teenage girls can be, especially unique kids like her. She apparently even threatened to have me suspended before my mom stopped her and tore her to shreds for talking about her child like that. I don't think I'm allowed to repeat what was said but by the end, Mrs. Tablet had to retreat with her tail tucked between her legs. She started being even more cold to me after that day and started giving me unfair detentions for not sitting still and doodling on the side of my worksheets. Even then, outside of school, we went to the same art studio sometimes and poisoned the art director against me and got me put into a lower class. When my mom found out about this, she started to feel tingles in her revenge bone. My mom has never been a PTA mom. She honestly can't stand most of the PTA members and their kids are chosen as favorites at my school and use this power to bully others, including me and my friends. My mom is however friends with a very lovely woman on the county school board, which has more power than the PTA. She told her friend everything that had happened and supplied all the doctor's notes needed to prove I needed my cast. Her friend managed to convince the rest of the board that Mrs. Tablet was discriminating against an impaired student, given her comments about me being slower at work and just wearing the cast to slack off, along with detentions related to me not sitting still when she knew I had nervous movements and slight ADHD. At the art studio, my mother pulled me from the classes. I took it upon myself to inform the fellow kids about why. And rumors spread quickly. Soon enough, kids were getting pulled left and right and my art teacher was pulling at strings to try and get the situation under control. I actually think the studio went into temporary closure before reopening again. She was suspended for a week to go under investigation and it turns out she treated a lot of the unique, as she put it, students in a similar way. She was verbally reprimanded by two different departments, and instead of getting her standard raise over the next three years, she'll only get half of that. Not only that, but she had to retake a course on how to properly treat students. And if she's ever caught to cross this line again, she'll lose tenure. She'll just be getting her raise back at the start of next school year. And I just like to say that I hope she learned her lesson. When I was in eighth grade, I tried out for a spot on the drill team. For those unfamiliar with that, it's the group that dances alongside the marching band, and we were separate from the cheerleaders. The reason I tried out was because those girls, you know the ones, pretty, popular, teacher favorites, laughed at me when I showed up for the informational meeting. They said I wasn't right for it and didn't belong. It made me more determined to learn the routines and become more fit so I could show them. I was flexible as much as a 14 year old could be, and at home I practiced, stretched, and I showed up for the rehearsals and tryouts. Only a couple of decent girls would not act like I was poison in the line when we had to link our arms. I passed tryouts because I could do the routine. My dad, who owned his own business doing car repair, wasn't rich, but he managed to pay for my camp fees and uniforms. He dropped me off each morning of summer camp on his way to work. There we learned the routines we would be performing at pep rallies and football games. We had to stand out in the sweltering Louisiana heat and humidity in August and stand in position for minutes at a time. Any move and you had to do kicks. This was a version of pushups or having to run laps where you stood and did sets of 25 high kicks for each infraction. I ended up with blisters on my upper arms from the sun. Oh, let me tell you about the sponsor, the teacher in charge. She was the epitome of a cranky old woman who had an only child who went through these dance teams and did private dance lessons. She was perfect to her mom. At the time, dance moms wasn't a thing but that's exactly like how she was. She would berate me for the smallest things and basically bully me along with the other girls. For example, when I was feeling faint having to do kicks for the third time that day, I was sitting down beside another girl who had pulled a hamstring. She is sitting with us while watching her daughter, who was our choreographer of course, commenting how wonderful her daughter was and said to me to get back out there. She could understand why the other girl was sitting. She was an athlete so she got a pass due to her also playing basketball. She would yell at me from across the gym to suck in my stomach. She told me I was rude when I was eating lunch with everyone else around and would join in laughing when someone said they coughed on my sandwich. The other girls would say things to me also and it was as though she encouraged it. Not only is Junior high bad enough but this on top of it was bad. I tried to be strong and show them I could make it work and do what was needed but it made me cry as soon as I got home. Our student newspaper would put out a who's who based on physical traits like best hair and best smile. Way to shoot down vulnerable self-conscious kids. The night of our first game performance I was waiting to be picked up with a few others and the sponsor. She went to the bathroom and came back with one girl who was caught smoking in the bathroom with some high school kids. Her punishment was she had to sit out the next game. My dad was running late. He had to work and couldn't just leave his shop unattended and after about 30 minutes she told me you know this means you're off the team. My dad pulled up a few minutes later and as soon as I got in his truck I was sobbing. I told him what happened and he said just a minute I'll be right back and proceeded to rip that woman a new one about her attitude towards me. So the revenge years later this woman brings her car to my dad's shop for repair. He remembers her but she doesn't remember him oddly enough. She was just as condescending as she had ever been treating him like a lowly servant under her because he did manual labor. He was writing her estimate for the insurance and she kept trying to get him to add in stuff that wasn't caused by the accident she was there for. Things like a ding on the back bumper when the damage was in the front, et cetera. He wouldn't do it and she got all huffy and said something like if he didn't she would have his license revoked. Now, since my dad had his shop broken into and tool stolen he had installed cameras. He sent that video to the insurance adjuster when he had a long good relationship within his course of business and she got hit with attempting insurance fraud charges. I don't know the exact extent of it but she should be glad her threats to his livelihood weren't added on there. Thanks for listening to the end. Don't let these insignificant miserable people like her convince you that you aren't worth anything. They really don't matter. Think about who you would feel you disappoint the most whose love you want to keep and who you want to be your best for. Hopefully it's yourself but if you have another person in your life family, friends, et cetera, they matter. Not shallow teachers who think the world should be an ideal version of their own making. Thank you for enjoying this episode which was made with artificial love. Subscribe to receive future episodes and tickle the like button for good karma. Do you have any experiences surrounding this topic? Share yours below. I'll join the conversation and I'll be seeing you in the next one.