My 3rd grade teacher would call me a space cadet in front of the class, and held up my calendar book as the definition of crap(in front of the class).
In the 8th grade my teacher would sit idly by while kids called me stoner, ret*d, fa***t, threw stuff at me, cut off my hair and put it in some girls desk, and all-around physically harrased me. My marks were slipping so she sent me to a tutor from the older grades, this involved a bunch of patronizing and degrading routines, like putting post-it notes on my binders explaining really obvious things to me.
...I felt a piece of dog s**t...which is partially my fault. My biggest regret is not telling them off, and repressing all the anger. Even if I did get in trouble with the school or my parents, I'd have some self-esteem. Everything I was afraid of turned out to be pretty harmless, I wish I knew that at the time.