In grade seven, we had a french teacher that very closely resembled Olive Oyl.
I’m not certain, but she may have been anorexic.
She did not keep control of our class, and as far as I’m aware her other classes were not very productive either. She left the school a few months into the school year as I recall.
Que the new French teacher. He smelled heavily of cigarettes and coffee. He also did not put up with our usual shenanigan’s.
My friend sitting a couple rows away from me turns around ignoring the new teacher, and starts a conversation with the person behind him. New teacher strides over, grabs my friend by the hair, and shakes his head violently side to side while telling us that we were going to pay attention no matter what it takes.
Technically, this was assault, but we were kids who would not be believed if we had stood up and walked out. We were too scared to do it anyways. This would have been 1983 or 1984.