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This is a question School Naughtiness

The B3ta Confessional is open. What was the naughtiest thing you ever did at school?

(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 12:55)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Dark Side of the Moon
I was around six or seven at the time, and I had just been bought a pair of really pretty pants. I can remember them to this day, they were white and shiny, and had a bow AND little flowers going around the edge. My family wasn't well off when I was very young, so getting new things like that was pretty much incredibly exciting.

I, rather innocently, wanted to show my best friend my new pants. So when we were lining up to go outside, I lifted my skirt to show her. I think they were met with approval. Then the teacher's pet happened to get an eyeful, and started bleating that she was going to TELL on me.

Out in the playground, teacher's pet and her friend kept trailing us around, going on and on about how they were going to tell the teacher about what I did, and that I was going to be in SO much trouble. Bored with this, I decided to give them something to go to teacher about, and not only showed them my pretty panties, but I mooned them as well.

They were practically falling over themselves to tell the teacher while we chuckled and I tucked my cheeks away. I was told off, and told that I would have to see the Headmistress at the end of the day. I didn't get to sit on the Green Chair TM this time, but I have other times in my school life.

Still, I was bricking it during the last lesson of the day. Matters were not helped by the fact the teacher's assistant, who also happened to be the mother of the teacher's pet (seeing a pattern here?) kept snarkily reminding me that I had to go see the Headmistress soon. The boy who I was sat with, I can't remember who he was for the life of me, eventually cottoned on and bless him, told her that he'd remind me instead.

So I went to see the Headmistress, and pretty much turned on the waterworks. I can remember her being oddly kind and stifled about the entire affair; I later learned from my parents that she thought it was hilarious, and was trying not to laugh while I explained what had happened.

It wasn't my first or my last clash with those two girls. One time they ran around the playground lifting skirts up for laughs, and my and my best friend retaliated with a good slap. Somehow we were the ones to get into trouble, and we ended up on the Green Chair TM. Actually I tell a lie, because there was two of us, one had to sit to the side. We thought it was hilarious, and I seem to remember us getting into more trouble because of that.

The teacher's pet's best friend then went on to be a lesbian. Fact.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:31, 2 replies)
I tried to burn my friend's eyeball out with sodium hydroxide
b3ta.com/questions/nobodysawme/post1063670
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:27, Reply)
Pass out for fun
I have no idea if what I'm about to describe was unique to our school, but I'll tell the tale anyway.

4th year at secondary school and a craze starts to sweep the playground.

Apparently if you hold your breath for 20 seconds and then have one of your best mates push hard against your chest, you pass out. Your mates are responsible for catching you before you hit the ground and much hilarity ensues when you wake up after a few seconds. Just typing this it sounds utterly bonkers, but that's kids for you I guess.

One of the kids in our class called Richard was very fond of this pastime. He was doing it constantly to the point where he was able to pass out without the need for the pressure on his chest (he sort of held his breath, tensed himself up and went out like a light).

We decided to test his new-found power on one of the more fragile members of the teaching staff. She was french, taught french and had the nickname "Biddy' because to us she looked about 80. The general thinking was that she a bit senile.

In the middle of Biddy's class, she's going round the group asking pupils to translate different words. Just before she gets to Richard, he works his magic and passes out, falling off the chair onto a strategically placed rucksack.

Biddy freaked out and rushed to get help. Seconds later Richard was back with us looking fine and dandy.

I'll never forget the look on poor Biddy's face when she returned minutes later with the deputy head and the first aid kit to find our Richard sat in his chair copying work from the board.

The whole class denied he'd passed out of course, leaving Biddy struggling to explain why she'd lost the plot so spectacularly.

I'm not proud of some of the things we did to teachers, but when kids smell weakness you've lost it.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:16, 2 replies)
I once...
...casually tossed a beautifuly crafted paper plane across the classroom during a French lesson.
It directed itself toward Martin and "docked" between his eyeball and the lens of his glasses. He scarcely acknoledged the event and calmly removed the aircraft, placed it on his desk, and carried on working.
Not especially naughty, but I was helpless for a good 10 minutes afterward.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:16, 4 replies)
I may have mentioned this before...
One of the cute little things we were shown in Chemistry class was that if you dissolve iodine crystals in ammonia and paint the resultant stuff on a surface and let it dry, it becomes an extremely sensitive contact explosive. The best part is that it makes everything in the immediate vicinity purple.

We swiped the iodine crystals and anhydrous ammonia, made a fair bit of the stuff, then painted it on the undersides of the toilet seats in the girls' bathrooms.

During gym class we were easily able to identify our victims by their purple thighs...
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:15, Reply)
Cruel
You think kids are cruel? Bullshit. Nobody takes the piss out of kids as ruthlessly and effectively as teachers. It's all behind closed doors of course (like Groundskeeper Willy going "Ah'm Milhoose!"), but for every stupid nickname given to a teacher, they respond with one for the kids. They know the ones that smell of wee, the ones wearing pyjamas to school, the semi-autistic special cases, the spunkers who smell of fag smoke and handjobs, the fatsos and sissies, the pseudo-hardmen and needy geeks - but they've got twenty or more years and much more education, and are usually far more witty with it.

The cruellest thing I ever was privy to was when I was on a placement during my teacher training year (I left the profession some years ago). I was manfully trying to impose my will and lesson plan on an apathetic group of 14 year-olds who were wondering who the fuck I was, when there was a knock on the door. I went to answer it, and there was a young girl with livid ginger hair that looked unbrushed since birth, in a badly home-knitted jumper, with buck teeth and the coarse red cheeks which curse some gingers.

She said, "Mr Andrews asked me to give you this." She passed a note. I opened it. It said, "THIS HAS GOT TO BE THE UGLIEST KID IN THE WHOLE SCHOOL."
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:12, 28 replies)
Wankmat
One day in maths class when we were about 14 someone wrote "wankmat" on another lad's text book whilst he looked the other way and we watched, trying to stifle our lulz, to see how long he would notice.

He spotted it shortly afterwards, called the other lad gay and gave him a series of ruddy good punches on the arm until it went dead. Such was tradition.

After that it kind of spiralled into a game of tag. Whoever was wankmatted had to then write wankmat on someone else's work without them noticing. Usual targets were homework and essays that had to be handed in that lesson. Bonus points for wankmat being written on the page more than once without them noticing, super extra mega bonus points for them actually handing the work in without noticing.

This game carried on well into sixth form with us all regularly handing in work covered with tipex to obscure the obscenities.

I think the worst/best it got was in one lesson my mate Nick managed to achieve an octuple wankmatting on my work before I noticed. Luckily it was mostly margin work, but I still got a bollocking for handing in an essay so covered in tipex it looked like a biscuit in an all boy's public boarding school.

Next day I had my revenge after spending a good ten minutes inking wankmat backwards onto my eraser then when he was otherwise distracted i stamped as fast as I could leaving about 20-30 wankmats all over his homework. Swagger.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:03, Reply)
This must win
I fingered my English Teacher.

I went to an all boys school in South Manchester. I was in upper sixth (not sure what year that is in modern money, probably year 12) and I was a hormone soup of a 17 year old.

Each new year there was a New Years disco at the the local rugby club. Each year there were a number of teachers there trying to be down with the kids. It was 1986.

This particular year, Mrs ********** (who I hasten to add was HOT in a milfy sort of way) was very drunk. We danced, her husband who was also a teacher at the school watched. We danced some more. We drank. We danced closer. She whispered something in my ear - though it was hard to hear over U2's New Years Day - something like "lets go outside"

We kissed, a lot, my hands wandered.

After the Christmas Hols I became notorious... Life was good.

Her husband looked at me in a suspicous manner for the rest of the year before I left. I always just smiled.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:03, 14 replies)
6th form, and the school had a new network of Macs.
We were't allowed to use them, as they were for the new, 11+ intake, so were stuck with the old, dumb terminals (x86, RM units, with a mighty 286 server). We used them anyway, and started sending as many large files as we could find, over the nascent email system. The already slow network became unusable, so the messaging service was switched off - permanently.

Even by geek standards, this is some pretty weak mischief. One of my peers once left the solitary Acorn looping it's own rendition of Yakety Sax, which was not well received. Man, we were hardcore.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:00, 1 reply)
At the dawn of the computer age
By which I mean the mid 1970s, we were the very first generation to do computer studies at school. We had a small room containing a teleprinter, connected to the local university's mainframe. For those too young to remember, a teleprinter is like a typewriter on steroids. And for those too young to remember typewriters, you can just sod off.

Anyway, the key point is that it typed its output onto paper. So, when one of us computer geeks set it to print "Mr Cooper is a Wanker" over and over again, it wasn't just on the screen, but on a rapidly increasing pile of paper spewing out of the machine.

Cleverly, he'd even turned off the BREAK key, so it couldn't easily be stopped. Rather more wonderfully, though apparently accidentally, he'd made it print on every teleprinter in every school in the entire city...

Sheer class.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:56, Reply)
One day...
...whilst waiting outside the locked science room, I unscrewed the acrylic plate over the paper sign saying "Mr. Cheek" (my science teacher) turned it over and wrote "MR. PRICK" in big black marker pen letters, then screwed the acrylic plate back over the top.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:53, Reply)
Forever Blowing Bubbles
Queerdon Teardon. The pervy science teacher we all loved to loath issued detentions as if it were his life blood. At break time we would have to come to his classroom and sit along the science benches in silence. If you were not silent he would squirt pipettes of water at your shirt, especially if you were a girl. Lovely.

After a while I got a bit fed up of damp jumper lumps and decided on a bit of revenge.

While he was probably interfering with himself in his store cupboard I spied a bottle of fairy washing up liquid, when I picked it up it's weight betrayed that it was full. Knowing that Queerdon Teerdon liked to start his lesson with a cuppa I was keen to see what effect a bottle of fairy might have on his kettle so in it went.

Basically it was like an ibiza foam party at the front of the classroom when he came out from the store cupboard and to cap it off one of the other reprobates in the class had procured himself a blob of wet loo roll which he threw and scored a direct hit right between the eyes. Queerdon Teerdon slipped in the bubbles and we scarpered for the whole of the double period off to the shops to buy potato puff and Joeys and smoke bensons behind the petrol station. Ahhhh those were the days.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:42, 7 replies)
It took months for the smell to go away
I'm sorry for this confession.

In hindsight I should have known better but I honestly didn't know this would happen.

I hate seagulls. We didn't even live near the sea. Yet the little buggers were always nicking any food they could out on school playground and being a menace.

Naturally we had to line up each morning outside before being taken inside for registration etc. Of 180 kids who was the 1 who got crapped on by a seagull before morning registration??? Yep, it was me.

I got laughed at and felt humiliated. Revenge would be mine.

We were learning a lot in chemistry, including the wonderful reactions of alkaline metals. Sodium being my favourite due to the large firey reaction with water.

The science classrooms were left empty between lessons as the teachers regularly moved onto to other rooms etc. So I hatched a plan.

I "procured" a bit of sodium one quiet day, not much just about the size of a small rubber, certainly smaller than a box of matches.

I then mixed this up with bread I'd torn into chunky breadcrumbs....

When I hurled it out onto the playground the seagulls swarmed and a handful scoffed the potent treat quickly... then they began to make noise.... a lot of noise. A few flew away onto the closest roof and then got REALLY noisy. One never made it off the ground.... the result I witnessed at ground level still haunts me. The best description I can give is that he "popped". It was almost like a stick of dynamite had gone off inside the seagull and his guts were strewn on the tarmac.

For months the smell of seagull guts wafted from the flat roof above until enough rain had fallen to wash it away.

Seagulls - they're bastards but they're not suitable for chemical experiments.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:41, 8 replies)
Egotistical physics teacher...
Picture this - Windows 95 has just been released and one day we wander into our physics lesson, only to be confronted with this awesome machine of power running Windows 95. We thought it was the dogs. We weren't allowed to touch it.

One day sat there in class, the teacher locks the screen after fiddling with something on the PC. I proudly say "I bet I can hack that PC". Everyone in the class gasped - this was the teachers pride and joy. The egotistical knobhead said "Yeah right, I bet you don't even know where the power switch is."

I decided to reply with "OK, next time you leave the room, I bet you I can hack into it and break it."

Oh dear oh dear - his ego wouldn't let this go so he accepted.

20 minutes later he announced that he'd be back in 5 minutes. It was on. As soon as he left (with the screen locked on the screensaver) I immediately pulled the plug, then plugged it back in. F8 to boot into DOS mode.

cd windows
erase *.*
y
y

That was it - when he came back, he saw the PC turned off. He turned it on, and BANG! Couldn't load as the windows directory was empty. His face just fell and went white as a sheet as everyone in the class laughed at him, and I was suddenly and briefly the class hero for knocking the smug bastard down a peg or two.

He couldn't admit to IT that he'd ended up allowing a pupil to knowingly fuck up the computer. It took him weeks to get it reinstalled and he always treated me with a very cold stare after that.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:36, 6 replies)
I once had group sex with a load of fish

(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:33, 15 replies)
Oh, also
I got suspended for two days for punching someone in the playground. I pointed out that I hadn't thrown the first punch, and that several people had punched me. How was that fair?

Headmaster said he was only suspending me because I was a nice lad, and should know better.

What sort of fucking sense does that make?

Suspended for four days... bugger.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:29, Reply)
Three legged twins
At junior school there was a pair of irritating know it all twins. They were short, jewish boys that were always squabbling like a 2 man version of the three stooges.

Whenever it was PE day and we had to bring in our plymsols etc they would be placed in the corridor on our pegs ready for getting changed later.

Every time somebody hid 1 of the twins plymsols meaning they had 3 shoes between them. This resulted in a big arguament over who had the complete pair.

After the 5th time I was struggling to find new places to hide that shoe....
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:28, 7 replies)
As a problem child I did a lot of things at school, including hitting a teacher with a chair
However the most shameful thing was when I was in 6th form waiting for lunch. At our 6th form we had Year 9s (13/14yrs) up to year 13 (17/18yrs). On this occassion a year 9 decided to push in front of me in the queue, so therefore I decided to pick this lad up and place him on his arse behind me in the queue starting the following conversation

"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Your mum" I childishly replied.
"My mum's dead", to which I instantly replied "That's why she didn't move around so much!"

The kid broke down into fits of tears and had to be comforted by a teacher whilst the whole queue gave me the evils.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:27, 2 replies)
Dirty Politics
As a 16 year old, starting out in my school's sixth form, I was a shy, retiring sort, who read books and played computer games and stuff like that. Gradually, teachers were beginning to make us aware that in the Big Wide World outside, reading books and playing computer games and stuff like that might not be the kind of thing Universities and Employers wanted.

We should all be pursuing our interests and looking to improve our CVs. This was difficult because I was useless at sport, music, languages.... I'd played trombone briefly, but only because at the time I was the only kid in school with long enough arms. Meanwhile, I was so gawky and bad at PE I'd once been force to sit out an athletics lesson because the teacher didn't trust me around javelins.

Anyhow, since all the other lads in my house, in my year, were extremely sporty types who did football, rugby, athletics etc. for the School team, whilst I was considered a bit of a rank outsider, I was picked to organise the election for House Captain. Contrary to all predictions, I ended up winning a close-fought race and being appointed the House Captain for Mountbatten House, which I promptly put on my CV/UCAS form. The most surprising thing was that not one person - teachers or other candidates - questioned the fact that a nerdy lad who was shit at sport, and just happened to have organised the ballot, had won.

Also, I had a wank in a stationery cupboard. Naturally.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:24, 1 reply)

Loudly contemplating how much of a cunt a certain teacher was, WHILE she stood behind me.

Not cool.

Fire extinguisher fight over three floors, involving 6 people and 10 extinguishers? Maybe...

Causing three separate teacher breakdowns over 2 years?
Up there.

Climbing the vents to perv over the girls changing(I only saw a fatty - fail). Lame.

Keeping a cat piss soaked homework journal, just so my wanker of a form tutor would have to handle it?
Evil.

There is probably worse.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:24, 7 replies)
Unbreakable cupboard security?
Our technology teacher proudly pointed out his new security device he'd designed to secure the glass sliding doors on a cupboard. Inside were all the coffee jars of electronic components etc you'd probably want to keep out of reach of bored teenagers.

The chap, Mr Streater, was nearing retirement. Once a brilliant engineer he'd obviously turned to teaching in later years and to be honest it didn't suit him. He had no class control so we learnt nothing.

I sat and studied the cupboard with an evil mind.... he turned to write on the whiteboard and I sprung into action. I stood and moved over to the cupboard, opened it through the obvious flaw in his design and removed a jar of resistors. Then I closed the cupboard again and placed the jar on his desk and sat down.

Everyone sat in smug silence waiting for the "show" when he realised.

When the old guy turned round and saw the jar, then the locked cupboard you could see the defeat in his eyes. At the end of that year he retired. I can't help but feel I helped push him over the edge.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:19, 3 replies)
I didn't do it... but I WAS THERE
Our school was built in the 1930s, and as such the architects saw absolutely no problem with having the opening to the loft space in the boys toilets. No well-behaved home counties student would even consider bunking off lessons, running amok above the classrooms below, would they? Of course not.

The only disadvantage was that the loft ran above the language labs, where silence, and the odd muttered "Ach du liebe Gott!" and "Pompt-de-pompt-de-lu-lu" were all that could be heard from the huddled masses, trying not to stare too hard at Madame Talbot's norks. You'd have thought those who had discovered this gold-plated skiving opportunity would not do anything to draw attention to themselves, perhaps using it as some sort of secret den, where cigarettes and pornography could be exchanged as a Rite of Passage.

It started with a distant thudding. Thudding that got nearer and more disconcerting as we tried not to stare too hard at Madame Talbot's norks. The thudding, mixed now with shouts and cries of "Wanker!" got closer and closer, and soon they were overhead. Madame Talbot stopped trying to get us to ecoutez-et-repetez and looked up with a worried look on her face. Confused, we stared at Madame Talbot's norks.

BOMF! A leg appeared through the plasterboard ceiling. Then another. There was a cry of "Oh fuck!", which drew a certain amount of displeasure amongst us, as this was clearly a French lesson where Anglais was strictly interdit, and the startled figure of Sid Brandon plummeted from the ceiling, landing on his back on Madame Talbot's desk.

Sid lay there a minute, stunned; as Madame Talbot crossed and uncrossed her arms, causing twenty schoolboys to let out sighs of relief.

"Sorry miss."

Plasterboard, cobwebs and years of dust fell from the great yawning cavity, while his partners in crime - who clearly should have been in a Portakabin somewhere learning the complexities of CSE Money Management and crayon usage - stared down at him and called him a cunt. Which was fair enough, really.

"Right, I'll be off then," he said as if he had every right to be there, jumping to his feet, and fleeing the scene.

The game was up. A hit squad led by Mr Ponting the caretaker and the collected might of the PE department raided the forbidden loft space, and the offenders were convicted at an assembly show-trial the following morning in front of the tutting local vicar; their booze, porn and smokes on a table as the most damning of evidence. But those Jumanji drums kept on beating... "Hey! There's a loft opening here. And it's unlocked..."

Full 12-inch remix version of this Tale of Mirth and Woe can be found HERE
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:13, Reply)
I may as well start with this again, even though I only told it in the Trolling QOTW recently:
My Chemistry teacher, no matter how much he would have denied it, had an uncanny resemblance to Postman Pat. My friends with elder siblings had been warned that on no account was this to be mentioned, the irrational explosion of terrifying anger that would ensue was not worth the risk. Obviously this was like a red rag flying cat to an autism bull, but being scared little first years none of us were brave enough to outright say anything. Instead, we embarked on what with hindsight I can now see as a monumental effort of group trolling. It started small, little snippets of conversation as he walked past desks. "Did you see Grange Hill last night?", "No, my little brother had his Postman Pat video on", then vague hummings of the theme tune or odd references to 'Have you seen Jess?', Questions - 'Sir, how does the sticky stuff on the back of a stamp work?'. You could almost see the paranoia and twitch in his eye develop as the lessons passed.

Waiting outside at the start of class "it's like pension day at the Post Office'. Bad jokes that didn't even make sense "Knock Knock, Who's There? The Postman? The Postman who? 'The Postman always knocks twice" (Not that any of us would have seen the film, I'm sure, but we'd heard of it).

And then someone turned up to class with a Postman Pat Pencil Box and a whole new level of warfare was opened, we spent our lunch money on Postman Pat rulers, Pens, Rubbers, Pencil Sharpeners, Lunch boxes, a couple of people started bringing in younger siblings Postman Pat satchel's with their books in. And then, finally, in a moment of genius that turned us from irritants to flat out bullies someone bought in about 50 sheets of Postman Pat wrapping paper and each and every one of us, bar a few of the hardy ne'er do wrongs, covered our homework books in them before we handed them in. One by one they piled up on his desk as the steam started to pour from his ears and his face turned red as...well...a post box.

Sadly there is no great pay off to this story. Next lesson we all got our books back, all of which had had the offending paper removed and an unspoken agreement seemed to settle upon us that we had taken this as far as we could. So I never did get to see the infamous temper and this story kinda just fades away, but having just spent 10 minutes writing it down, I'm quite proud of 11 year old me and my cohorts.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:13, Reply)
Not quite my school but...
14 years ago, a group of us 6 had just finished all of our GCSE's, and we were all back at a mates house which happened to back onto a field, and about 30 yards across this field was a small 4ft wooden fence which then opened out onto the playing field of the local catholic high school (not our school).

Being rather the worse for wear after smoking copious amounts of shit weed, 5 out of 6 of us (3 lads and 2 girls) decided "fuck it", and we hatched a plan.

So there we were, 3 horny as fuck 16 year old lads, naked with 2 girls we'd grown up with.

The dare?

To streak across the catholic school playing fields, touch the wall of the building, and run back. At lunchtime.

All 5 of us did it to the incredible shock of loads of 13 and 14 year olds, just leaving one prudish girl to wait with our clothes by the fence :)

These days we'd probably end up on the sex offenders register for that, but at the time we thought it was hilarious, and over the rest of the summer, the streaking continued amongst the 5 of us whenever we could :)
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:07, Reply)
Got caught with 2 grams of cocaine in 6th form
I was made to do lines :|
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:06, 2 replies)
Got fucked by my headmaster.
I was 12 :-(
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:04, 2 replies)
I once..
...wrote "Poo" on the blackboard
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:04, 1 reply)
I once
engraved my initials and the date into my desk with a compass.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 13:03, Reply)
2nd

(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 12:59, Reply)
1st
...to pop the hood on our school's new computer - a Commodore PET -



and put a cup of tea in it complete with saucer and teaspoon. It just sat there on the PCB and I closed the lid.



It worked for years afterwards but the tea did go cold and mouldy - we checked on it from time to time.
That's about it really. Oh, apart from that statutory rape malarkey...
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 12:57, Reply)

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