That one time in 8th grade that I was called despicable, it was by my English teacher, Mr. Daly. He was in the classroom doorway about to exit when he turned around, saw me, and said, "Wipe that smirk off your face, Y*m! You're despicable!"

A few minutes before, he'd called another student in the class a slut, and she'd promptly walked out of class to go tell on him. How and the why he was enraged in the first place, enough to call that girl a slut (which she really was), I cannot remember. It was something she did, and his response to it, as a Christian school teacher, was rather shocking to the class. We were all stunned into silence. But the moments before he stormed out of the classroom were so serious, and the mixture of anger, shame, and fear in the expression on his face was so ridiculous, that I couldn't help but be amused. He probably felt as if I was mocking him.

Mr. Daly was able to keep his job, and he apologized to me and to the other girl. She never really got over him calling her a slut. I forgave him. He liked me anyhow, since I was the only one in the entire class who didn't utterly hate him, and who took his writing assignments seriously.