Creepy, Perverted Teacher - A True Story



During the early 80s we had a teacher's strike in
Northern California. I remember our geography
teacher telling us that she was going to be
hitting the picket line and that whoever was
taking her place would be running the show. Of
course, I was in 9th grade and realizing that we
were going to have our teachers replaced by those
less experienced sounded like a huge party to me.

On the way home on the bus that day, I was
excited. My mother was working out of the home so
I could go home and prepare for our devious teenage
plans for school. While staring out of the window
on the bus thinking up a great scheme, I saw this
strange guy walking down the highway.

We lived in a suburban area of a bigger city.
They called the town Larkfield, but at that time,
our address was still in Santa Rosa. It was rare
to see a stranger walking in town let alone down
the highway. Old Redwood Highway used to be the
main highway which traveled to Windsor and then
Healdsburg, but when 101 was built,
people rarely traveled the one in front of our
house. I suppose this is the reason why he looked
out of place, well, he was kind of dirty looking
with his stringy hair and his tortishell glasses
with the thick rims. You know, the kind you see
on creepers from the 1970s?

When the bus went by he was actually walking
across the street from my house, but being one of
the last ones off the bus it continued on down
the street a little ways so the bus
driver could drop off more than one kid. I didn't
see him on the way home nor when shutting our front
door. I figured he had made it to the grocery
store by then and found where he was going. Not
concerned at all, I went into the kitchen and
started to boil the water for my Ramen--something
I made every day after school.

There was a knock at the door. Excited I ran to see if it was
my friend so we could talk about what
to do during the strike. It wasn't her. It was him. The creepy
guy with 70s glasses.

"You got a phone?" he asked. "I got a flat tire
up the road and I just need to call a tow truck."

I sure as hell wasn't going to let this guy into
my house so I grabbed our phone with the 20-foot
cord and handed it to him. I then shut the front
door and I'm pretty sure that I locked it. I
headed back toward the kitchen and before I even
got near the stove the hairs stood up on the back
of my neck.

I felt pressure against my waist line on my back.
"I have a knife at your back. Do what I say or I
will use it."

I froze. There wasn't anything near me that I
could grab and hit him with. The water was
boiling on the stove, but I knew I couldn't reach
it. I imagined tossing the glass pot into his
face with the boiling water blistering his
skin, but there was no way I would make it.

At first I cried out, "Oh God help me!" but when
nothing happened and he was still there I got
mad. No, I got angry. It pissed me off there was
a gross, creepy stranger threatening me in my own
home. I wanted more than ever to boil his face
with the water now.

I did the only thing I could think of at the
time. I really wanted to see if that was a knife.
Perhaps if I could just grab it from his hand
then I could stab him with it. I reached behind
where I felt the pressure and felt something
fleshy. It was warm skin. I knew at that point he
didn't have a knife and it was his finger!

"That's your finger you creep!" I yelled at him
and half laughed. "GET OUT!"

"You're just a whore!" he yelled as he backed
away and started running for the door. You invite
me into your house and make me leave. You're a
whore!" By the time I gained my composure and made it into the living
room he had left. The door was left wide open and the
porch door slammed shut. I grabbed my cat off the
porch and quietly shut the front door and locked
it with the dead bolt. Shattered, shaking and
crying I sunk to the floor and hugged my cat. I
don't know how long I sat there for, but my
nerves were frayed.

I didn't tell my mother when she came home. In
fact, this is the first time I've ever told
anyone the whole story. Anything could have
happened that day, but it didn't. I was spared a
horrendous fate.

The next day when I went to school our new
teacher introduced himself. It was him. I know it
was. He had the same glasses, but he was cleaned
up and his gross, stringy hair was different. I
hung on to the guy who sat next to me in class,
my heart racing. My stomach churned, I thought I
was going to lose my breakfast. He looked
straight at me.

He left the class stating he had to use the
restroom. He never came back. I was too scared
that he would do something if I told the office
or my mother. He knew where I lived and that was
bad. I couldn't prove anything that he was ever
there. Sometimes when my cat would growl at
whatever was outside at night, I wondered if he
was watching. I spent a long time getting over
that day. I hope he is rotting in prison for
taking away a part of my freedom that I will

never get back.

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