The Teacher Chronicals: Thank you, Mrs. Olson.

 mrs olsen is supposed to be really pretty. make her ugly and evil with mean expressions. It's a challenge lol


Dear Mrs. Olson of Riverview Elementary,

Before I was in your first grade class I was free-spirited, loud, and normal. When I stepped into your classroom I was dreading the year just like any normal 6 year old would.

pic of that, make mrs owlsen look really nice and beautiful in her classroom as u walkin. readers will soon see her other side

But my fears of homework, early bedtimes, and less free time were minor. Of course, those fears were well founded and came true, but they weren't horrible. No. Do you want to know the worst part of my first year in the "big kid school," Mrs.Olson?

It was you.

pic of like good dog evil dog from the dog post, but with Mrs O, or MO from now on.

At first, you were okay, despite the fact you got mad at anyone who misbehaved. But you weren't too cruel, at least not in the first three weeks of the school.

Unfortunately for me, you were no where near as kind as my kindergarten and preschool teachers, but then again, I wasn't expecting you to so nice, funny, and caring. You were my big kid teacher; you weren't supposed to be an angel. You were just supposed to be tolerable.

It all started the day of our first spelling test. I got one wrong. No big deal! That was a record; I wasn't a good speller. Normally, I missed five. Missing only one was thrilling!

pic of u being super happy, holding your test that MO is currently handed u. u are reaching for it and looking at the test

But when I looked up at you as you handed me, a proud, excited child, the test, you wore a look of absolute disgust.

pic of you taking the test, while lookins super sad at her beautiful evilly contorted face

It crushed me. But being young and innocent, I made up excuses for you.

pic of you super sadpicturing her eating a super bad brekky. thot bubble. Under the pic in the thot bubble, words: Maybe she had a bad breakfast.


Pic of you thinking(ina thought bubble) about her husband holding the empty coffee pot and screaming at MO. Words in thought bubble:Maybe her husband was mad at her for not making coffee. in this pic, your head is off to the side like stupid dog

Pic of thought bubble of w/ peeing puppy in it. Words in bubble: Maybe her new puppy peed on her face to wake her u. While thinking this, you are looking complexed and hurt

But somewhere in the deepest depths of my undeveloped brain, I knew the truth. You thought I was an unequivocal failure.

I was able to last an entire month after the "incident," getting 100% on all of my tests, hoping to make you proud, but you always had this deep-seeded look of hatred in your beady little eyes whenever you looked at me.


picture of her beady little evil eyes with hatred. but she is pretty. use expressions to make her eyes beady and her face hideous

Then we were assigned our Ocean Week projects. Ocean Week occurred annually the week before break, and the entire class was high in excitement.

After all, Ocean Week meant a field trip to the tide pools. I was a little jealous of the eight graders who got the deep sea as their assignment, and the fifth graders who got the coral reefs, but I was still extremely happy to be going to the tide pools.

Before our field trip we were to pick a tide pool animal, write a five page, single spaced report on the creature, and present it orally to everyone in the whole school.

Well, as it turned out, you were going to assign us groups of three, in an 18 kid class that was six groups.

My group was the purple sea urchin. What luck, this topic was fun! I loved the purple sea urchin (Thinking back, that was the only assigned topic I actually liked. In high school, assigned topics are dreaded by every student.).

Now, I wanted to own millions of purple sea urchins. I wanted every single purple sea urchin to be my best friend.


pic of you surrounded by urchins and they are smiling and you are hugging a bunch of them. you are sitting, piled with the urchins

Each person had to write and individual report on the adorable, spiky, tide pool creature, but we wrote the speech together. We also had to "test drive" it in front of the class.

That's when disaster struck.

My group presented the speech together, to get the timing right.

pic of your class standing infront of a white board. you are talking. your speach bubble says, "The..."

Well guess what, Mrs. Olson, I said one word, one word, and you took the opportunity to murder my soul.

Just one word and you blew up. And I don't mean screaming. I mean I literally thought you were going to explode and your guts would go flying everywhere, just like the papers you threw at my face. I'm sure you said plenty of obscenities, but I can't be sure. I was to busy staring at the stunned and frightened faces of my classmates.

pic of just her exploding


pic of you holding your cheeks in shock


pic of sitting audience in shock. one kid stands up.

When the staff came in to investigate, I covered for you. I said that we saw a gigantic rat and it scared the sh'mole out of you, so you started screaming.

Because I was one of the most popular people in the entire school, I could have gotten you fired, but I didn't. I was doing a good deed. I knew that the class would stick by me; they wouldn't even tell their parents!

I, too, never told my parents, but they knew something was amiss. I cried for days, weeks, months even, but I never told them. I was just that nice. If only you could have taken a lesson from my caring actions.

pic of you streaming tears into a puddle super sad your parent's are looking worried. youre in a corner, sad looking. ur back to parents

My parents still don't know why that, every morning for the next five months, I tried desperately to stay home.

They don't know why I successfully faked vomiting weekly by holding dissolved cheese in my mouth for an hour until it had the consistency and color of throw up.

They don't know why I broke into tears whenever anybody mentioned school.


pic of some one saying, "school!" and you wailing and tears SHOOT outa ur eyes super sad. person is oblivious and happy, ranting and waving arms in air.

They did what they thought was best. Dutifully, I was sent to school sent me to school each morning. They thought it was just a faze.

I made it through the school year, but despite how hard I tried (I even literally helped you keep your job!) you never gave me anything but cruel looks that smashed me to pieces.

In result of my dismantled psyche, I became a introverted, timid, shy, quiet child. Taking no notice, you found new reasons to yell at me.

pic of mis bitch yelling, YRNT U RAISING HAND? (put in correct grammar) or make her cave man ish

I thought it was all my fault. My grades were dropping; The only thing I thought of during school was how not to get screamed at. I never did class work, and didn't participate in PE or reading group. My parents even signed me up with a summer tutor (That man just scared me more)!

Fortunately, in second grade, I had the nicest teacher on the entire planet; She was Mrs. Angele the amazing, and she probably kept me from suicide. But not even she, the teacher from heaven, could reverse your heartless actions. However, I was free of you, Mrs. Olson, so life was better.

Or so I thought.

I ran into you again. School was dismissed; I was happily running through the halls when I accidentally walked into one of your unfortunate students.

I muttered a quick sorry to the girl and jogged on. But then: I heard your voice. It was the sound of broken glass being smeared across a chalkboard while someone drills nails into my eardrums, and at the same time a nuclear bomb is being dropped on a herd of screaming elephants.

pic of her yelling AMELIA! Come here! (in caps)


pic of you walking over. sad


PIC of her yelling, SAY SORRY!

I did; timidly I apologized again, eyes downcast.

You didn't give it a rest. Though I was in tears, you still screamed at me to  shake the poor little girl's hand.

Grudgingly, I performed this demoralizing act.

pic of you doing it, you have a chain and ball to your leg

I was a happy(er) second grader who didn't want to affiliate with lowly first graders, but you forced me to in the only way you knew how: With demonic looks, ear-splitting shrieks, and fear.

pic of that beautiful lady. but her face is ugly due to the evil look on her face. so shes's beautiful but you have to make her look ugly with facial expressions

Somehow my third grade teacher was even worse then you (an entirely different story, but definitely I will tell it), but she only reopened the wounds you created. My family decided to leave the school after another year of my crying outbursts.

Right after enrolling in a new school, the school sent you to my doorstep. Your mission: make the Rice family stay in Riverview.

Like that was going to happen; I cried almost half the year there.

Well Mrs.Olson, I have no idea how you thought it would be okay if you came back into my life. Somehow, you must have rationalized it to be, because a year ago my mom started getting Cabi Party invites from you.


pic of your mom saying, "Off to Cabi with Mrs. Olsen!" and your lower jaw is literally on the floor.

I had no clue that my mother was actually attending these "get-togethers," but I am not a cruel person. I would have been perfectly fine with you, and your strange habit of inviting near strangers to your party. Obviously you were desperate.

But DO NOT invite me to your clothing parties. I go to Cabi Parties, but only ones held by my friends family. You, Mrs.Olson, are not one of my friends (thank goodness), and definitely not one of my family.

However, I decided to go to one of these parties, but not to privilege you, oh no I will for a much more sinister reason.

I'm finally call you out on all of the horrible experiences you put me through in first grade, right there in front of your friends and family. Take that, Mrs. Olsen. Those scars you created didn't allow me to talk to adults for years (except my parents), I'm through with that phobia now.

But do you know how difficult and painful it's been for me to overcome my fears and finally communicate? I am surprised I was even able to talk to my peers at my new schools (another side story; my family didn't like the first school's system, so we moved to another school, where I very happily settled.)!

How dare you try to come back and haunt me with your invitations!? But I am not a weakling anymore; I'm not scared of you. Mrs.Olson, I swear and promise that I will make you feel like a piece of sh'mole for screaming at me for that fateful year.

pic of you looking super confident and you're glowing

So thank you, Mrs. Olson, for ruining the first half of my life.

I suggest you never approach me unless you become suicidal. I'm taking this into my own hands. Suck it.

I hope you die a painfull death one day,
Amelia