“A mean history teacher.”
I know who this illustration was representing. He wasn’t one of my favorite teachers. Not because in the picture he looked like a vampire, and not because he’d give us tons of reading assignments, but because he didn’t seem sympathetic to the drama that was happening over in my section of the classroom. A kid who sat behind me would do and/or say things to me that could now be seen as a mild form of sexual harassment. I wound up defending myself, but whenever I approached the teacher, his only solution was for me to move to another seat. Not that I was expecting him to call the cops or get the kid expelled, but why did I have to move? Eh, that part is history.
The kid didn’t bother me after I moved to another seat, though. Except one day on his way back from sharpening his pencil, he stopped at my desk and said with a grin, “I hate you!” To which I responded, “Good!” That was all we said to each other for the rest of the year, I think.