Everyone (and I mean everyone) has their own horror stories about the public educational system and the people involved. But mine is different from the average Joe's grievances.

My story starts in the 3rd grade, and continues into the 4th, then the 6th and 8th grades. Yes, I had to deal with the same teacher for four years. She gained my ire in the first. Up until High School, I was part of the Elementary and Middle schools' "Gifted" program-- which was open to anyone with an IQ over a certain number.

In the 3rd grade, I had long-division, decimals, and fractions down to a science while my peers were struggling to learn multiplication on numbers higher than 12 (Florida schooling is inherently slow). Despite my prowess in the field of mathematics, the beloathed teacher (whom I will refer to as Mrs. OJ for the purpose of semi-anonymity (anyone who went to my Middle School will know who I mean immediately)) gave the "Math Award" to one of my classmates. On top of that, she gave the Math Award for the 4th Grade class to her son Nathan; who has all the brilliance of a damp tissue box. My parents, who were well informed of where I stood in comparison with the rest of the class (read: peerless), asked Mrs. OJ why I didn't get any awards (save a pity prize) when I exceeded everyone in my class in every subject. Her response: "Well, you can't have one kid win all of the awards."

Okay, fine. Lesson learned: No matter how hard you apply yourself, the faculty will always strive for equality rather than fairness.

For the next few years, I completely abandoned trying to win fancy awards and eventually stopped caring about the unappreciated effort I put forth to complete homework (a malady I still suffer).

My first day of Middle School was shattered by the realization that Mrs. OJ switched to my middle school the previous year (presumably so she could be her son's math teacher). Nothing eventful really happened this year, but I didn't go back to the same middle school for my 7th grade year (for obvious and unstated reasons).

Nothing seemed to change until my 8th Grade year. I had Mrs. OJ's class every day (once for "Critical Thinking" and again for "Algebra" on block scheduling) and one day she mentioned to another student, "Nathan is doing really bad in Math. It's like he is in completely over his head."

I nearly lost it then and there-- which would've caused a scene since I wasn't exactly the class clown. Mrs. OJ's son: The same boy she mollycoddled and gave a free ride through elementary and middle school; was flunking math. Mr. Math Award couldn't wrap his mind around the horridly complicated field of simple geometry!

It didn't stop her mathematically-challenged meat-head son from graduating this past May-- we can think the Football Coach's influence on the entire faculty for that. But I, who is probably the only student who probably remembers my entire educational career; I, the only student from that "gifted" class who will graduate with 5 math credits (one of which is Calculus); I, the one student who excelled in all subjects but didn't get any of the awards, always has and always will be superior to the brain-dead oaf who got the petty award I deserved just because his mommy was the math/gifted teacher.

The moral of the story: Favoritism doesn't pay off. If Mrs. OJ's son hadn't been a jock (and therefore treated like royalty by the elitists at my High School) he would've dropped out, got his GED, and spent the rest of his days at Burger King.

If Mrs. OJ or her shit-for-brains son ever read this, I would like to convey the following (that means the following message is for you and your mommy, Nathan. Pay attention): Keep your damn award. Soon I'll have millions of dollars and the satisfaction of knowing I'm a success-- something that will always be worth more than an elementary school award that you didn't rightfully deserve.

I win. I'm better. And, in case you haven't gotten the point yet, you suck.

Let this be a lesson to all of you teachers out there who are unfortunate enough to have children: You might spoil them now. Sure, they might be the center of attention for the time being-- but once they're out of the reach of your influence, they'll fall to pieces. I'd wager a hundred dollars that Mrs. OJ intended on teaching at North High (the high school her son and I both attend) as soon as Nathan was set to begin his Freshman year, only I know nobody would take that bet because they'd be short a hundred dollars.