I remember vividly from the time when I was in Year 4.

There was this one teacher who absolutely loathed me, for reasons I still don't know. She lunged at every chance she got to chastise me. I'll call her Mrs P for ease of reference.

One afternoon, just before the end of school, we were waiting for the ‘packed lunch cart’ to arrive from the dining hall which would carry all our packed lunches. Only after we'd picked them up, would we be allowed to go home.

It was Mrs P’s class’s turn to bring the lunch cart that day, and she'd forgotten to send them off. After she did, 10 minutes had gone and they still weren't back. Everyone else was in the corridor, complaining loudly.

A friend asked me (for the billionth time) to check if it had arrived yet, since I sat closest to the door. I walked out of the classroom into the corridor to check, and it wasn't there, so I called back, “No, it's still not here.”

“WHAT did you just say?” Boomed a voice behind me. I turned round. It didn't come from my friend, nor my teacher. It was Mrs P.

The corridor was bustling with people. But now they all turned to stare at me. I froze. What had I done wrong?

She yelled at me for the next 5 minutes, telling me how ungrateful I was for ‘whining and complaining’, and disrespecting her class. I burst into tears. This was all in the middle of a corridor, and she yelled at me like I’d commited some sort of serious crime. It was humiliating, to say the least. But it wasn't enough for her.

She ordered me to apologise to her entire class, and when I was too terrified to move, she half-dragged, half-pushed me down the corridor, into her classroom, where she had gathered the entire class. She shoved me to the front, and told the class of the horrible things I just did.

The rest was a blur. I was an absolute mess, crying so hard I could barely breathe. I remember her jabbing me in the back a few times, because I couldn't talk as I was practically choking.

My parents were horrified when I told them this, still terrified from the shock. They complained to the school, but no action was taken. Despite her false/exaggerated accusation, the massive humiliation, and not to mention her being very ‘hands-on’.

So I waited, very patiently for the next few weeks, for it to rain heavily enough so that we had playtime indoors. I found the crafts drawer, and sure enough, there was the pack of playground chalk.

I sat in the corner of the classroom and began my work. Using scissors, I ground up a small portion of chalk into a fine powder. I used orange chalk, to be exact, as they weren't actually orange, but more of a beige-y colour - the same colour as the teacher’s chairs.

A bit like this, but in a lighter colour.

And during the next (outdoor) playtime, I hid in the toilets until everyone had gone, and the teachers had gone to the staff room.

I scurried down the corridor and tiptoed into Mrs P’s classroom. Thank goodness she wasn't in there. I crept up to her chair and carefully scattered the chalk powder onto her chair, making sure there was enough to - ahem - leave its mark (all the teachers wore dark-coloured trousers), but not too much so that it would puff up into a dust (or chalk) cloud when she sat down.

As soon as I was done, I practically tiptoe-sprinted out of there, with a huge feeling of satisfaction and relief.

Now, there is no wonderful ending to this. I never knew what happened next, as l didn't see her for the next few days.

But I was satisfied. Even if it was an unusual way of revenge, and even if it didn't work - it felt like payback.