Lenora Thompson writes about narcissism for PsychCentral.  This article about her narcissistic third-grade teacher stood out to me,  not only because it is an entertaining (and of course, heartbreaking) read, but also because not much has been written about narcissistic teachers.  This is strange to me because teachers probably have the most impact on young children, after their parents.

I had one such teacher (also my third-grade teacher), Mrs. Morse, who  decided to make me her scapegoat.  You can read about that here, in an older post I wrote about my childhood, called Crybaby. 

The Most Narcissistic Schoolteacher Ever

By Lenora Thompson, for PsychCentral

The class of thirty 9-year-old third-graders looked like something out of a 1950s photograph. They sat perfectly still. Their reading books were held in identical grips in their chubby hands. Every student held their books at exactly the same angle. No one slouched. It looked like a model classroom.

What no one knew was that, just the day before, their narcissistic teacher had taped a student’s mouth shut, tied him to his desk and struck him.

They were not model students. They were quite simply terrified.

The Mean Teacher

Finding out who your new teacher will be at the start of each school year is always very exciting. In my über-religious Protestant school, there were two third grade teachers. There was the beloved nice one who, unbeknownst to us, was slowly dying of cancer.

Then there was the other one. A newlywed. Very young. Very pretty. Very mean.

As luck would have it, I got the mean teacher. But I adored her. Back then, I adored all my teachers and often was the teacher’s pet.

You’re Not Sick

Who doesn’t have a dire tale to tell of getting sick at school. On this particular morning, I felt fine when I boarded the schoolbus. I felt fine when I arrived at school and handed in my completed project.

Then it struck me, the waves of nausea. That salty flavor in the mouth that precedes losing ones cookies. “Please teacher,” I begged. “I think I’m sick. Can I go call my mommy?”

“No,” she snapped. “You’re just pretending to be sick because you haven’t finished your homework.”

It wasn’t true, but she was scary. So I shut up.

Then I threw up…all over the floor. Served her right.

*****

Read the rest of Lenora’s article here.