Hop-hop.

Imagine that. That was one of my favorite subjects in school. Partly because of Efremov's "The Razor's Edge" which I read around that time, but also partly because of the biology teacher, who believed we could read the textbook ourselves and gave us a lot of extra and interesting material during class.
I even wanted to apply to med school after graduation.

Biology was boring in school. The teacher had discipline problems, so nobody studied. Although overall, the lady was very nice, practically radiating beams of kindness.
In university, anatomy was also taught quite inadequately. The teacher for age-related anatomy didn't give a damn about anything and barely showed up for her classes, constantly canceling them, etc. Then she threw a 7-question test at us and it was just a matter of luck (I got a 4 there, the version turned out not to be too difficult, but a friend of mine got questions about fish and plants, which almost made her blow a fuse).
But neurophysiology and the anatomy of pathology of the organs of hearing, vision, and speech were absolute hell. In pathology, we only covered the structure of the organs, and the teacher generally said there were no textbooks for our discipline (there actually are, lol), that only lectures and labs would be on the exam, and that she would grade everything according to the tests where we drew organs from memory (this is where I failed; I just couldn't reproduce them exactly how she wanted, even though all the diagrams were correct because I had memorized the general layout of the various organs). In the end, she packed the exam tickets with such stuff that only half of it corresponded to the lectures and the textbook. She randomly decided to shove the rest of the nonsense in there herself and said we had "self-education," so we were supposed to guess that we should study those questions during the semester. Because of her, many people lost their chance at a red diploma.
And neurophysiology was just pure hell and doom. First, the teacher went on a binge, claiming she was sick, but in reality, she just disappeared with a bottle of white wine, while the dispatchers, the department, and the dean's office were looking for her everywhere. At the end of the semester, she came to her senses and came to lead classes with a raspy voice (everyone joked later that she probably caught tonsillitis from the cold vodka). In the end, she started assigning grades randomly to whoever. First, we took a test, which she graded who-knows-how. In the end, she'd turn a blind eye to mistakes for some and give them a 4-5, while for others, she'd actually subtract points for correct answers because they had wrong ones elsewhere (my test was written for a 4, but she got it into her head to subtract points for mistakes, just for lulz). Eventually, I went to her for the exam, where she intentionally tried to fail me; she didn't even credit a correct drawing, saying they look different, but she wasn't going to draw or prove anything to me (even though that was the only time my memory-drawing matched the textbook!). Plus, while she was grilling me, she made a few remarks to some idiot who was blatantly cheating (lol, she gave her a 4 afterwards). In the end, after twenty to thirty minutes of my continuous answering of all questions, I deflated and couldn't answer the simplest and most important thing: "WHAT IS A NEURON" (damn it, I know what it is, but at that moment my memory failed me, and my brain wanted to flip the desk onto the teacher and kill her). And to her question about what I expected from her, I replied that I'd just like to get a fucking 3 and go home already; she said I wanted too much and that I should learn how to give blowjobs to teachers. In the end, she slapped me with a 2, and I spent the entire summer break cramming that moronic discipline. In September, she gave us "debtors" a new test that didn't correspond to the questions in the tickets, and almost everyone failed it (only one person cheated). She started calling by last name, and the first one she got was the "star" of our group (a clinical case right there...); she mumbled some nonsense for the most basic questions, and while I was screaming "FOR GOD'S SAKE JUST LET ME ANSWER, I KNOW THIS MATERIAL!!111" — the teacher lost it and told us all exactly what she thought of us. Then she dealt with two more fools who couldn't answer anything. When it was my turn, she just looked and said: "Get out of here, you'll retake it again" — I already started a scandal, saying that since she listened to those idiots, she should at least let me answer. In the end, I answered her about conditioned and unconditioned reflexes (those were actually two different questions, but I told her everything about them in detail and how this knowledge would be useful in the teaching profession and in mine), then I started telling her in detail about memory, and by the time I'd lost track of time and was tired of answering her questions (it was already getting dark, although the retake started at almost 2, and I was going to a birthday party), she said that no matter how much I excelled, she still wouldn't give me more than a 3. I stopped giving a damn and reflexively shoved my grade book in her face.
By the way, since then, every time I see that creepy lady, I send her beams of hatred, which I really hope she feels. Although I have a feeling that with her alcoholism, she's forgotten who I am, because she looks at me with eternal bewilderment.