“The Most Narcissistic Schoolteacher Ever” (by Lenora Thompson)

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.



Is this an improvement?


Sure, this cartoon is funny, but is also worrisome. If this is true, then we are raising a generation of narcissists. It also shows how little teachers are respected these days.

My final words about this…


I’m not angry or upset and I don’t hate you. I don’t pity you anymore either. Pity is a wasted emotion and does nothing but condescend to the person you are pitying. In spite of our differences, I have the utmost respect for you.

You probably will laugh at me for saying this, but I think God used you to show me who I am
and how I fit into this world. When you allowed me to peer for brief moments inside your labyrinth-like beehive (and sometimes hornet’s nest) of a mind, in retrospect I understood on a gut level that you helped me understand how to read and cope with others with your illness, and help others like myself. I learned to be more empathic and more aware (not wary) at the same time. I developed an insight into myself that had always eluded me.

I used to have empathy for you, and in a way I still do, but I no longer of the belief you can get well so I had to let go of most of that empathy, for it would have been wasted.
Being the kind of person I am, it was so hard for me to do that, but I had no other choice.

Try as I might, I never was able to solve the puzzle of you. I had to give that up too. But I solved at least a little bit of the puzzle of me, and that’s so much better.

You more than anyone, know how damaged and broken you are, and I know you’re fully cognizant that you probably can’t ever escape your self created prison that one day will annihilate you.

But in spite of that–and no matter what your true motives, for the means here don’t matter, only the end–I need you to know you did and do and will continue to touch some lives in spite of being what you are. You might hate knowing you did good, but…you did good. Deal with it.

I’m a better person than I was because of the perspective I was given. So I wanted to thank you for that. And for your support of this blog. Everything happened just when it was needed.

Nothing happens without a reason. There is a time and purpose for everything. No one exists without some reason to be here. Everything under God is connected.