#it's giving pe teacher

[nyaheum]

nah but they really went "alright we'll all be students...except kyubin. he's too old. nobody will believe that. teacher."

[maluceh]

mini matilda au that @daiziesssart planted on my head

[suja-janee]

LISTEN, some MK11 men are kinda fine-

Nah trust me I know, I have a preference for the mk11 kuai liang over the mk1 version

[ezralva]

This time Together with Maman as school teachers

Caption "Teachers for subjects you're not good at"

What subjects will they teach?

[venussaidso]

Every male character has sucked ASS this season.

Also notice how none of them ran into the building to save Amerie and Harper.

[kkat-astrophic]

ghhhhhhhh I've had a shit day this is SO unfair.

[iero]

my freshman year of high school, i turned in an entirely blank assignment for my health/gym class (it would be like tuesday-thursday classroom learning abt like stds and eating healthy or whatever, and then m-w-f actual gym) just to see what would happen and i got a 100 lmao. love a teacher who doesn’t give a fuck

So, is it a universal experience for y'all that most of your PE teachers just don't care? Because this definitely sounds like my PE teachers in school as well LMAO

[waterparksdrama]

hopefully this "second side to the story" has the texas acoustic dates that they forgot to add for IP (I am still kind of bitter about that)

i’m surprised they didn’t do that either tbh - iz

[onbearfeet]

So I just reblogged a thing about how fat people are treated in sports, and this seems as good a place as any to tell a PE trauma story.

Disclaimer: I'm not what most people think of when they say "fat woman". I've been told all my life that I'm too large to exist, of course, as nearly every woman in the English-speaking world has, but I'm on the upper end of the size range for most clothing companies that market to "standard size" women in my age range. So calling myself fat seems a bit like stolen valor (stolen trauma?), but if I had to describe myself in one of my books, I'd use words like "stout" or maybe "pudgy", mostly because I'm slightly shorter but no narrower than my personality leads people to expect. Someone being creepy might write phrases like "soft curves" or "acres of creamy skin". Me, I think it's more helpful to say I'm about 5'5", I've got what my mother insists on calling "childbearing hips", and I was 12 years old the first time strange men in public screamed at me to show them my boobs.

There's a fair bit of me, but if I'm the largest woman in the room I've usually taken a wrong turn.

Anyway, I've more or less always been a very slightly upsized human for my age, and that was also true in high-school PE class. I refused to dodge PE despite the MANY remarks made about my body because I'm pretty sure I have "fuck you, haters" engraved on my bones, but one person who was extra hard to get around was the actual teacher. Because she was somehow convinced that I "wasn't trying" when I ran the mile, because my times didn't improve.

Now, I am a dogshit runner. Always have been. Even when I was doing it for fun for several years, I was total crap. I have a long waist and therefore less leg than usually goes with my meager height, and while I am descended from people who walked across vast steppes, carrying their children and their lives on their backs to escape the wrath of tsars, none of them fucking ran while they were doing it. You don't usually escape a tsar by running, because running makes you tired before you get to the edge of his territory. You escape a tsar by walking and walking and walking and refusing to fucking stop until you're somewhere where no one recognizes your language or has heard of whatever the fuck a tsar is. I can walk for days, but I cannot run for shit, whether I try or not.

So my teacher telling my straight-A ass that my "low effort" on the mile was why I'd be getting the first B of my overachieving life? That was a PROBLEM.

(Also, my parents would kill me. An A was the only passing grade in my family.)

Luckily for me, that was when we hit the weight-training unit.

Most of the girls in the class didn't even want to HAVE weight training, because something something femininity, but I shut up and hit the bench press because I hated most of PE equally and, again, "fuck you, haters" was inscribed on my bones.

Except this time, unlike every other time I shut up and tried harder in PE, something happened.

I started getting stronger. I started upping my weights. I added plates to my bench while half the other girls were still pressing the bar and complaining about it. By the time we finished the unit, I had one of the highest maximum bench-presses in the class, just behind a really hard-core competitive swimmer who had been weight training for years. They wrote my name and maximum on the gym wall in ballpoint, right under hers.

I was doing all the same exercises as most of the other girls in the class ... but I ended up able to pick any one of them up and walk away with her after a few weeks.

After that, the PE teacher pulled me aside with a shocked expression and asked, "Are you really trying as hard on the mile as you are in the weight room?"

"Yes," I snapped back. "It's just that it only works in here."

The next time we ran the mile, I pushed myself so hard I collapsed and vomited at the finish line. It was the fastest I've ever run a mile in my life, and the time was a wildly unremarkable 10 minutes, 47 seconds. I'd shaved maybe ten seconds off my usual time, which hovered around 11 minutes.

The teacher apparently put together the name on the weight-room wall and the puke on the grass and gave me my goddamn A. It didn't stop her from giving me shit the following year, but at least after that my murderous glare was slightly more effective.

Point is, the lesson I learned that my teacher clearly did not is: different bodies are built for different things, and not nearly enough people understand that. Nothing is going to give me the body type of an Olympic sprinter or a WNBA star. I have about the same body shape my mother and grandmother had at my age, and I routinely surprise grocery clerks with my ability to pile all my groceries into one reinforced bag, sling it onto my shoulder like a beach tote, and stroll out of the store. I will never win a marathon or a 100-meter dash, but if you need someone to walk until I'm beyond the reach of the tsar, and carry my worldly goods with me, I'm your gal.

Unless my knee gives out. Fucking middle age.

[samgelina-jolie]

"Robin x Nancy" this and "Vickie x Robin"

WHAT ABOUT ROBIN X CARRIE THE THEATRE GIRL AND HER ONE MINUTE OF SCREEN TIME IN EPISODE 5 OF REBEL ROBIN

[t4tbedehopmar]

i will go to bed now night nighttt

[kotorinz]

I’m actually going to fucking hate PE

[allergic-to-four-leaf-clovers]

I am dreading school as always

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[gothamgothic]

I love both ideas so much. If you go this way - how is Jack recruited? Is it another college buddy that is out of commission for a while and realized that he just so happens to know that Jack has the EXACT degree requirements to fill his shoes? Imagine this professor saying "Jack Fenton knows this exact material - heck, the guy pioneered XYZ techniques in his home lab." and the Gotham U board is hesitant until that professor points out that the guy comes from a background working with local vigilantes (according to the resume they convinced Jack to send in) The board is just "Yes. This one. Perfect. One less person to have to worry about scaring the bats." Only for them to find out that his "working with vigilantes" wasn't "helping in investigations in a controlled lab setting" (like forensic science sort of chemistry) - it was chasing Phantom into the fray with blasters and a homemade tank.

Mr. Fenton is a competent teacher. Almost too competent.

If Mr. Daniel Fenton had any more than a BS (with a minor in education), Tim would’ve flagged his profile as a potential Rogue. That’s the way of most charismatic academics, at least in Gotham. (Got a PhD? Instant watchlist.) Instead, he’s Gotham Academy’s newest celebrity, as a young, passionate, out-of-towner substitute while the chemistry teacher’s on maternity leave.

Tim gets the hype. Fenton seems to genuinely love teaching, and is invested in the welfare of the student body. He hands out bananas during exam week, hosts a “study habits seminar” each month to coach effective learning strategies, and the third time Tim falls asleep in his class, he even pulls Tim aside to ask if he’s doing okay. With all the late work he accepts and the protein bars he sneaks Tim, he’s every teen vigilante’s dream teacher. He could’ve been Tim’s favorite.

In fact, Mr. Fenton was Tim’s favorite. Up until Tim walks into Mr. Fenton’s chemistry classroom for a forgotten textbook, an hour after the final bell.

On the board where tallied scores for today’s review game had been kept, “THE CHEMISTRY BEHIND DR. CRANE’S FEAR GAS: ANXIOGENICS, NERI’S, & YOU,” is now scrawled. A detailed diagram of the human endocrine system projects in front of a small crowd of adoring and attentive students.

Fenton is wrist-deep in the skull cavity of an anatomical model. A short tug, and out pops the brain.

It’s plastic. It’s fake.

Tim identifies the nearest emergency exit.

Fenton turns to the door, and in the dark classroom with the projector illuminating half his face, his eyes almost seem to flash red. “What’s up, Tim?” he asks. His friendly grin is too big for his face. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Just Science League!”

[OR: Danny’s a science teacher at Tim’s school. Gotham’s a pretty wild place, even for someone who grew up a superhero in a ghost-infested town, so he takes it upon himself to start a club teaching kids how to manage themselves in the event of a crisis. These Gothamites are pretty hardy, but a little extra training never hurt anybody! And he suspects one of his students might be a teen vigilante, like he’d been, back in the day. As a senior super, it's Danny’s duty look out for him! Surely, this is the subtlest and most appropriate way to give the kid pointers.]

[Tim immediately assumes supervillain.]

[nikidykeachu]

Tearing my hair out I hate p.e