Another Santa

Back in my school days, I was often referred to as a teacher's pet.
I wasn't.
I've just always been well behaved, and whenever an adult has given me a command, I listen.
For that, you can thank my strict Mexican mother, quick to slap the taste out my mouth after the smallest sign of backtalk.

When it came to teachers, I was always the nice one who always did my homework and always played nice with the other kids.
I'd also get very attached to my teachers... in elementary... usually the outcome of me following their rules for so long.

Well, recently, I found my third grade teacher on Facebook. I have one friend in common with her, and it just so happened that I was on that friend's FB when I saw 3rdGradeTeacher appear on the 6 visible friends portion.
After 16 years, the lady has not changed.
I was stoked, of course, to have found her.
The lady taught me how to add. Weird, I know, considering I should have known how to do that by 3rd grade.
My dumbass 2nd grade teacher messed me up because all she would have us do in class was sleep, throw parties, and watch movies. So, come third grade, my new teacher caught on, told my mom to explain the concept of addition/subtraction to me, and hopefully I'd catch up within a couple of weeks. I caught up in the matter of two days.
With the mastering of addition/subtraction, this teacher proceeded to teach me the times-tables by singing. The woman would sing about ANYTHING.
To this day, I've been mindfucked into singing my 3s, 4s, and 5s (if you see me having a hard time multiplying anything by these numbers, let it be known that the fucking song hasn't ended in my head, hence my delay).

Anyway, I thought this lady loved me. I was always one of the 6 kids who would attend her "perfect homework" luncheons she'd throw the kids in class who turned in their homework every day for the quarter.
I even have a stupid story where I actually cried one day because I wasn't given homework.
(People don't understand I cried because everyone else had the homework sheet, and the asshole substitute teacher failed to give me mine. I went up to him at the end of class and asked him for mine. He wouldn't believe me [why the fuck would anyone lie about not getting a homework sheet?], and my bus wasn't going to wait for me. He had the extra sheet in his hand, and he would waive it around and laugh in my face as my chin would tremble and my eyes would water. He wouldn't stop his mocking and he wouldn't give me the sheet! Add to that, my bus had now left my ass at school... so I cried. I still remember that fuckface's name... Mr. Lockich [I won't protect this fuck's identity. If I ever, ever, ever bump into that man again, I swear to God I'll fucking beat the shit out of his now-probably-senile ass] aka Mister Stiffy, 'cause that sick bastard would show up to class in sweat pants... and guess what would happen to him in front of the boys...)
After this horror story (which my friend's mom corroborated when the teacher ask about it) 3rdGradeTeacher became endeared to me (Aww, AnoMALIE cried for her homework? What a sweet baby! HE WAS MOCKING ME AND I MISSED THE BUS! I WAS NINE! What's so hard to understand about that?!).

But last week, I learned this "teacherly" love was all an act.
Guess who rejected my friend request the other day... that bitch.
As if I've changed that much since 1994.

If I ever have kids, I hope they're dicks to their teachers and his/her fake interest in their well-being (not saying ALL teachers are fake asses. Oddly enough, the one k-12 teacher to be genuinely interested in my life has been my 10th grade English teacher, and I didn't even like her).

Yeah, I'm bitter... just like when I learned Santa Clause was fake. My gentle, gullible soul doesn't enjoy rude awakenings.