1Kviews
5submissions
Finished
Hey Pandas, What Was Your Worst Encounter With An Entitled Parent?
Post your worst encounter here!
This post may include affiliate links.
My kindergarten classroom was themed with black and bright neon color accents (blue, yellow, orange, green, and pink). Prior to school starting, during Meet the Teacher Night, I had one parent who floored me with a demand.
“My son doesn’t like pink. So, you’ll want to start removing anything pink immediately.”
I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly, “I’m sorry. What?”
Annoyed, she repeated herself, “I said he doesn’t like pink. You’ll need to get rid of all this pink stuff.” She flailed her arms around the room.
Concerned that maybe the color was a trigger for her child, I proceeded to delve a little deeper. “Oh. Is this just an aversion? Or does it induce some type of anxiety in him that I need to know about?” Meanwhile, he’s playing nearby, with a wooden train set, seemingly oblivious to the classroom decor.
“No. He just doesn’t like the color. So, how soon can you get rid of all this?” Again with the flailing arms.
I ended up telling her that while I’d be respectful of his color choices, when such choices were made available to him, altering my room decor to suit one child was not something I’d be doing. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that her son would not have to spend another minute around a “girl color.” She stormed off with him in tow. I later heard from my principal that she requested her child be transferred into another class. My principal refused to do so.
She grimaced every time she had to step into my classroom that school year. Her son never once complained about the pink color and he was an exceptionally bright and sweet little boy.
Please note: I would have removed any color, in a heart beat, if it were emotionally triggering for one of my students. And some of you might ask… how can a color be an emotional trigger? Let’s say a child has an abusive caregiver and the abuse always takes place in a green room… well, you get the idea. That just wasn’t the case in this situation. Apparently, it wasn’t even the child’s preference, but rather his mother’s.
Ugh, I hate “boy colors” and “girl colors”. It’s just never made any sense to me. There’s no point in gendering colors.
We were asked by a nearby private school to bring in some of our Miniature Donkeys for an event day for their 10-12 year olds.
We setup an enclosure and used a few hay bales so the kids could step it and pet the donkeys.
They day went really well until one dad struts up to the enclosure wearing an expensive suit. He says 'My daughter want's the black one! How much is it?'
I said 'That's sweet but they are not for sale'.
'Everything has a price' he says as he and pulls out his wallet.
'They are not for sale!' I repeat.
'Stop wasting my time and TELL ME THE PRICE'.
'How much for your wife?' I asked him, looking at the lady that just came up to his side.
'I beg your pardon?'
'You see, these animals are my family' I calmly explained, 'Asking me how much they are, is the same as me asking you to put a price on your wife or daughter'
'Don't be ridiculous' He said, 'One way or another, I'm getting that thing for my daughter, now tell me the price.'
I stepped over the enclosure, took one stride towards him putting us nose-to-nose. 'If you ask me one more time, I'm going to upset your wife and daughter by putting you on your a**e right here'.
'You touch me and I'll call the police!' he tried to sound confident but it was too late, I could smell his fear.
'That's where you're wrong!' almost at a whisper, 'Your wife would have to call the police, because you wouldn't be in any condition to. The question is, could they get here in time to save you? What you don't understand is, I know exactly how long it takes to beat a man to death and it's a lot quicker than you think. I also know where the nearest police station is, I could really take my time. Now f**k off and tell your daughter that she can't have everything she wants! Then tell your wife that you've discovered that you can only bully people with your money and that you know that she only stays with pathetic excuse for a human like you, is because of your money! Then finally, get in your car and leave, because if you're still here in 3 minutes I will ruin you!'
For some reason the school didn't invite us back the following year.
So my friend is lesbian and I’m bi. Her mom said I made her lesbian by kissing her, but my friend always hopped on me and jokingly kissed me. It didn’t bother me. She called herself mrs (my last name). It was pretty obvious she was lesbian ever since she was 5. I tell her mom all this and she says “wElL wHeRe DiD yOu GeT iNfEcTeD” like it was a disease. Demanded I fix her.
Was teaching in high school and I demanded a parent of one of my students pay a visit at the school because the student was doing poorly on education and behavior. A mother with a very bad temper appeared the next day and told me with out even hearing a word from me, that her child was a very well behaved and smart child and what ever shortcomings shown was my fault and I should take responsibility for. I immediately saw her kid been so ashamed of her and giving me begging eyes to not say a word and embarrass him more some how. I felt the students pain and I kind of started investing more time into that students life in order to reduce any stress felt from home or anywhere.
Was teaching in high school and I demanded a parent of one of my students pay a visit at the school because the student was doing poorly on education and behavior. A mother with a very bad temper appeared the next day and told me with out even hearing a word from me, that her child was a very well behaved and smart child and what ever shortcomings shown was my fault and I should take responsibility for. I immediately saw her kid been so ashamed of her and giving me begging eyes to not say a word and embarrass him more some how. I felt the students pain and I kind of started investing more time into that students life in order to reduce any stress felt from home or anywhere.
