You are bringing me back to my high school days Peg. 
WE had a chem teacher mamed Mr. Ano, who had wandering eyes towards the teeanage girls in his class (and no I'm not making that up) 
. We waxed his car for him, we just didn't buff it. We called him at 5 am and informed him him he might want to get on that before the sun baked it on. We are going straight to hell, but the image of that perv sweating to buff three cans of tutrle wax? Priceless.
FQ13 who seriously holds a grudge against 50 year olds who coment on my girlfriend's ass
Had a 9th grade wood shop teacher, Mr. Nichols, who often verbally expressed his contempt for students as thieving worthless scum. His actions confirmed his disregard for us.
I was making a "Ships Ladder" set of book shelves for my mother. After cutting and shaping and hours of sanding the project I cam in to find it covered in over spray from Mr. Nichols personal project.
It became my fervent goal to make that man pay.
Another student in my first period class, Dick Wheelwright, was complaining to me about a similar grievance and I told him I'd tell him how to get even if he swore he would NEVER mention it was us who did the deed.
Every morning Mr. Nichols make a big deal of unlocking all of the tool cabinets, snapping the pad locks onto the open hasp. He would tell us that he had to lock up the cabinets each day because us thieving students would break in and steal them over night. He also emphasized that he had to snap the locks on the hasps to prevent us from stealing them.
Told Dick about using the wood putty, which he did. Also told him to be at my locker at the end of the day since it was at the entrance to the wood shop and had a good view into it.
That afternoon, we were treated to witnessing Mr. Nichols ranting in the shop in a rage about his locks and the cabinets being unlocked over night.
The next day in class, he rage continued, saying he had to spend the night in the shop to protect the tools. He also promised the ones responsible would be found and would pay. Never happened.
At our 10th year HS reunion, Dick sat down with me and brought up the crime. He said he had never spoken of our deed until just then with me. I had done the same. We decided that our risk was over and agreed that the story was declassified.
I was not finished with Mr. Nichols however.
He often spoke of his pot of animal glue. I was contained in a heated pot, maybe about a quart size. He said he filled the pot with glue on his first day of teaching shop and has never let it run out, just adding more glue as needed. He said that if any of us had the intelligence to understand such things, we would know that some of the molecules of glue from his initial filling of the pot were still present after all these years of teaching.
This pot of glue was treasured by him. So, one day I had gathered all the sawdust I could in the shop and before the end of my period, I filled the pot with the sawdust. It still looked fine afterwards, but he turned it off each evening and back on the next morning to melt the glue.
The next day when he turned it on, it remained a solid block of wood.
I was there when he realized the link to his first day of teaching had been destroyed. He wept. He showed no anger, just great sorrow.
I knew I had taken one of the most valuable parts of his life from him. I learned that revenge is not always sweet.
I still wonder if, knowing the sorrow it would cause him, I would still do the same. I think I would. He caused a lot of pain to a lot of students, and even though their pain was less deep, there were years of it happening.
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