I generally liked school, even loved it. For the most part, my teachers were quite good, and more than a handful were the kind you remember, and thank, your whole life.
That said, it was almost always a great day at school when we had a substitute teacher. She (it was rarely a he) would be there only for a day, or at most two, would not be familiar with what we were doing in class, and certainly would assign no homework. Usually she would simply tell us to read whatever book we were reading for class, or ask us to repeat work we’d already done, or lecture about whatever subject she was most familiar with, not even expecting us to take notes. There was no threat of a quiz.
It was like a vacation day in class.
But not always. Tomorrow’s story is the terrifying tale of the substitute teacher from Hell.