Want to hear about my most embarrassing moment? If so, you’re in for a treat, because today, I decided to relive the whole nasty experience for your entertainment. But, it’s all in good fun, and looking back now, it was pretty funny.

*By the way, sorry for the novel of a blog post. I just started writing and couldn’t stop! Hope you all enjoy!*

It happened back when I was in the sixth grade. I was 12 and stuck right in the middle of my awkward phase. I also had very little confidence and, honestly, I was a bit of a nerd.

In those days, I lived in the shadow of my older brother, as most younger siblings do. This wasn’t a bad thing, though. In fact, I enjoyed being compared to my cool older brother. He had a certain charm to him that always seemed to impress his peers and all of his teachers. That was something that I admired about him and, when I got to middle school, I was determined to be just as impressive.

This whole fiasco happened about halfway through the year. Up until then, everything went off without a hitch. I was doing well in school and most of my teachers were wonderful. All except for my science teacher. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call her “Mrs. Smith.”

Mrs. Smith was a teacher most students liked. For the most part, she was kind and cared for her students. She was also a bit ditsy and got off topic occasionally during lectures, which most of her students loved. All around, she was a lovely teacher; but, she never took a liking to me. It was just one of those things. She was never a big fan of my brother, and because we were always compared, she wasn’t very fond of me either.

One day, in Mrs. Smith’s class, we were given a handout to read as a class. After the handouts were passed around the room, one of my classmates asked Mrs. Smith to tell us a story about some of her old students. This was the usual way that the class tried to distract Mrs. Smith from what she had planned for that day, and often times it worked. This was also the reason why I never like her all that much. I mean, what kind of teacher tells embarrassing stories about her old, somewhat hated students to her current ones?

Anyway, this question about her former students sent Mrs. Smith off into a tangent. I remember feeling somewhat annoyed but thankful for the chance to rest my brain.  Soon, I was staring off into space, while Mrs. Smither recounted another tale about her former students.

I, however, must have drifted off longer and deeper into thought than I had originally thought. Because, while I was lost in my own little world, my teacher had finished her story and had started to read off of the handout. Meanwhile, my own handout was still on my desk facing away from me.

Like nails on a chalkboard, I hear my teacher yell my name in an annoyed, whiney tone. At first, I hadn’t even realized she was talking to me. I figured that one of her former students had my name and that Mrs. Smith was still mid-rant about her old students. Then I realized that all eyes were on me, and it registered that the source of Mrs. Smith’s annoyance was not a former student, but a current one, me.

“Courtney, what are you doing?” I hear her say, along with a few chuckles from my classmates. This pulled me the rest of the way out of my dazed state. Before I can even assess the situation or think of what to say, I blurt out, “reading!” It came out before I could stop it, in an incredibly defensive tone.

In the silence, the word just hanged there. I was mortified and all I could do was pray that Mrs. Smith would let it go and this situation wouldn’t get any worse. Maybe she would have if I wasn’t me. As I said, we weren’t very fond of each other.

But, I was me, she didn’t let it go, and it did get worse.

After what seemed like an eternity Mrs. Smith gave my paper a pointed look and broke the silence. In my stunned state, I couldn’t really hear what she said. But, it was something along the lines of, “you must be very talented to read upside down.” I remember it coming out sarcastic and rude like she was trying to make me die of embarrassment. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like to my 12-year-old self.

It took me a second to understand what she was getting at. I mean, reading upside down was impossible, right? I followed her gaze down to my paper and understood what she meant. The handout was still facing away from me on the desk.

I remember feeling the tears well up in my eyes. I said nothing, not wanting to embarrass myself any further. At the time, I didn’t enjoy being in front of crowds and this was the most attention that I had ever received at one time. Needless to say, I was absolutely horrified.

After another long period of silence, Mrs. Smith smugly told me to go read the paper in the hall and that she would be out shortly to “quiz me.” I remember that clear as day. As I rose to leave the room, my face flushed as a mortifying thought crossed my mind. She was sending me into the hall so they could all laugh at my expense.

Looking back now, that probably wasn’t true. Sure, the stories Mrs. Smith told about her old students may have been inappropriate, but making fun of a current student in front of the class would have been horrible. And, even though I have put her in a bad light, she wasn’t that bad, was she?

When I got into the hallway, I took a second to calm down and process the situation. That had just happened. A teacher called me out in front of the entire class. Me, of all people–a bookworm, a nerd, a teacher’s pet, even. That sort of thing never happened to me.

I sat out in the hallway for an excruciatingly long period of time, even after I read and reread the handout. The longer I waited, the more I let my mind wonder what Mrs. Smith might do when she comes to quiz me. Surely, checking to see that I actually did the reading wasn’t all she had planned for me. I was absolutely convinced that I would receive my first ever detention. Or, at the very least, sent on an unwanted trip to the principles office.

When she finally entered the hallway, I was a mess of nerves. There was absolutely no way any good would come of this. I remember standing there silent, unsure of what to do next. Should I beg for forgiveness? Run away, crying? Maybe, try a combination of the two?

Before I can decide my next move, Mrs. Smith breaks the silence and, again, asks what I was doing. She didn’t let me answer, however. She just starts lecturing me about paying more attention in her class. This upset me even more, but I just let it go. Getting angry with Mrs. Smith would only make my punishment worse.

In the end, she let me off easy with a warning. But, when I re-entered the classroom, all eyes were on me and the embarrassment soon returned. To make matters worse, all of my friends asked me about it once the class was over, which obviously made me feel even more humiliated.

Going back to science class was almost painful for the next couple weeks. Every time I entered that room, I was reminded of the situation and wanted to die of humiliation all over again. Even today, I think about it and get that same embarrassed feeling in the pit of my stomach. But hey, I guess I got a good story out of it!