Mr. Cook, 5th grade, who called us all by last name. It was quite a shock to hear at first, but he told us once we get out of school we’ll always be known by last name, not first, so get used to it.
Mr. McGee, 8th grade history. Never wore the same outfit twice in a school year. He was the high school hockey coach and was a tough SOB. Don’t dare fall asleep during his lesson; he wouldn’t strike you, but he’d kick the underside of the desk you were sitting at so the desk would strike you.
Mr. Sequeira, 9th grade history. When four of us were in 7th grade and drank before a school dance he is the one that inflicted punishment on us when we were caught. He treated us like adults and gave us choices on how we wanted to handle our punishment. We could either deal with him and his detention, or go home and let our parents handle it. Not one of us chose the latter. Two hours of calisthenics and a whap on the ass with a paddle that was fashioned in wood shop was the punishment. Also, a waiver that stated he could use the paddle up to four more times during our three year tenure at his school.
Ahhh, the joy of freewill. Again, we all knew the options, and we all chose the same.
Mr. Sequeira made quite an impact on our collective asses, and that was back in the days when gym shorts were about the same underwear.