I have had "issues" with English teachers since well before high school, and very much so with Miss Weinstock in senior year high. I did not and will not yield. Editors? I don't give a shit about them, nor they about me.
Miss Weinstock, terror of Burbank High. had two example students, my almost girl friend Karen Lynn**, and myself. We were not in the same classes.
Miss Weinstock (Ms. had not been invented yet) told everyone how wonderful Karen Lynn was, who had never had a grade less than "A" (except in PE, she was very small). She compared her to "Andrew Grygus" (emphasis hers), who is just as smart and could get grades just as good, but will not apply himself!"
Actually, I was applying myself vigorously to my studies, which just didn't happen to coincide with the studies assigned me by teachers.
By the last semester, Karen had already effectively graduated, been accepted into college, and sluffed off, skipping classes, etc. No further "As" were needed.
Funny: after graduation, Karen admitted to hating Miss Weinstock's guts, whereas I, who had fought her constantly, thought she was pretty OK. I guess "As" can be expensive to the soul.
Added note: At graduation Karen was on the honors stage . . . . . . . . and so was I. Teachers asked each other, "What the Hell is he doing up there?" Well, it was the SAT. Karen had missed 1 question, I had missed 3. Note: in those days there was not SAT tutoring, we had to fly solo.
Actually I almost didn't graduate - well, not all that close. In my "Senior Psychology" class, taught by Mr Brukner, the PE coach, we were required to produce a Daily Diary of the class. Some hopeless nerd actually did that, and most of the rest copied him. This was a severe violation of my ethical standards, I wouldn't copy, and I wouldn't do something so stupid. When the time came to turn it in, I presented nothing, and explained why. Mr Brukner flagged me as disobedient, disruptive, failed, and not to graduate.
I was called before Mr. Ed Bedigan, the Principal, to explain myself. I did. He said, "Well, let us see". He pulled out my folder and opened it. It contained not even a moth. He said to me, "You mean you have gone all they way through high school and never been in any kind of trouble at all?" I told him, "Not that I recall". He closed the folder and said, "You're graduating".
** Karen and her family were staunch Mormons, and tried to convert me. Even though I still presumed I was a Christian in those days, I knew this could not possibly work. The angel Moron (oops, that's Moroni, he's Italian) and I were not going to get along. A few years ago I remembered her married name and looked her up on the Internet. She teaches early Mormon music at Brigham Young in Utah.
The greatest tragedy of my relationship with Miss Weinstock is that I was not yet familiar with the writings of Ambrose Bierce, particularly his Cynic's Word Book (later called The Devil's Dictionary).
I had written an essay and used the word "undoubtably". She marked me down for using an "obsolescent" word. What I meant to say was that it "could not be doubted", not that it "wasn't doubted". This pissed me off, but she would not relent. Here's what Ambrose Bierce has to say:
Obsolete, adj. No longer used by the timid. Said chiefly of words. A word which some lexicographer has marked obsolete is ever thereafter an object of dread and loathing to the fool writer, but if it is a good word and no exact modern equivalent equally good, it is good enough for the good writer. Indeed, a writer's attitude toward "obsolete" words is as true a measure of his literary ability as anything except the character of his work. . .