My weirdest teacher was called Mrs Greidinger
Demonstrating the stellar wit of a bunch of thirteen-year-olds, we referred to her as "Mrs Gravedigger". She taught art, and we knew she was a total nutcase largely due to the fact that she addressed us, a bunch of well 'ard council estate adolescents, as "Good Children", in the tone of voice normally reserved for babies. We didn't realise just how weird she was until the day she covered a maths lesson when our normal teacher was of sick.

There were a lot of foreign kids at my school with odd names, so it was common practice for a teacher covering a lesson instead of taking a register properly, to send round a piece of paper for us to sign our names on to spare themselves the embarrassment of pronouncing all our names wrong. On this occasion, since it was Mrs Gravedigger, we all wrote down both our own names and one more.

When she got the list back, Mrs Gravedigger looked very confused. She did a head count. She counted the names on the list. She did a head count again.

"That's funny...twenty-one children in the class...forty-two names on the list..."

We quivered with expectation.

"Calvin? Is Calvin Klein in this class?"

Some smart-alec replied, "He's just gone to the toilet, Miss."

"Mickey Mouse?"

None of us could contain our mirth by this point. We rolled about in hysterics whilst she went to get the head of maths, who took one look at her and at the list and gently led her away.

We never saw her again. Rumour has it she ended up in a mental hospital.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 15 Nov 2005, 13:27, Reply)