Teacher Pours Superglue Into Black Boy’s Hair, Not Knowing His Father Is Basketball Legend Shaquille O’Neal

The morning sun streamed through the windows of room 203 at Springfield Middle School, casting long shadows across the freshly polished floors. A young boy sat quietly at his desk, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of his new textbook. His dark eyes took in every detail of the classroom—from the motivational posters on the walls to the neat rows of empty chairs slowly filling up with his new classmates. This was Alex’s first day at his new school, and everything felt different from his old one. The hallways were wider, the lockers a different shade of blue, and even the air smelled unfamiliar—a mix of fresh paint and lemon-scented cleaner.

He reached up to touch his hair, carefully styled in neat locks that his grandmother had helped him maintain just yesterday. “You look handsome,” she had said with a warm smile, giving him the confidence he needed for this new beginning. What none of his classmates knew—and what the school staff hadn’t been told—was that Alex’s father was actually their new principal, Mr. Richardson. It had been a family decision to keep this connection quiet at least for the first few weeks. “Give yourself a chance to make friends on your own terms,” his dad had suggested over breakfast that morning, adjusting his tie in the hallway mirror before they left home separately.

As students filed into the classroom, Alex noticed how they naturally formed their usual groups—friends who’d known each other since kindergarten, sharing summer stories and comparing class schedules. He pulled out his notebook, the fresh pages ready for a new start. Just as his teacher walked in, Mrs. Thompson stood at the front of the class, her gray hair pulled back in a tight bun and her lips pressed into a thin line. She began taking attendance, her eyes scanning the room as she called out each name. When she reached Alex’s, there was a slight pause—a barely noticeable shift in her expression that only someone watching closely would catch.

Throughout the first morning, Alex tried his best to blend in. He raised his hand when he knew the answers, kept quiet when he didn’t, and followed every instruction to the letter. But he couldn’t help noticing how Mrs. Thompson’s gaze lingered on him longer than necessary, how her smile never quite reached her eyes when she spoke to him. During their first writing assignment, Alex worked carefully on his summer vacation essay. He wrote about the family trip to the Science Museum, about the experiments they’d done in the interactive lab, and about his dream of becoming a scientist someday. When he handed in his paper, Mrs. Thompson barely glanced at it before placing it at the bottom of the pile.

At lunch break, a friendly boy named David invited Alex to sit with him and his friends. They talked about video games, their favorite subjects, and the upcoming school science fair. For a moment, Alex felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Maybe this new school wouldn’t be so bad after all. But when they returned to class, he noticed Mrs. Thompson watching him with that same strange look as she handed back the graded morning assignments. Alex’s paper had a red mark scattered across it like angry scratches. The grade at the top: an A-minus. His heart sank. He’d never gotten anything lower than a B+ before.

The day wore on with more small incidents. Mrs. Thompson interrupted him twice while he was answering questions—something she didn’t do with other students. When he asked to sharpen his pencil, she made him wait until three other students had gone first. During art period, she walked past his desk without offering help, even though she stopped to assist every other student in his row. The final bell couldn’t come soon enough. As Alex packed up his books, he thought about whether to tell his father about his day. He knew his dad would want to know if something had held him back. But maybe tomorrow would be different. Maybe Mrs. Thompson was just having a bad day. Maybe he was imagining things.

Walking down the hallway toward the exit, Alex passed his father’s office. Through the glass panel in the door, he could see Mr. Richardson in an animated discussion with another teacher. His dad caught his eye and gave him a slight, encouraging nod. Alex managed a small smile in return, clutching his backpack a little tighter.

That evening at home, when his mother asked about his first day, Alex kept his answer simple. “It was okay.” But as he lay in bed that night, staring at his ceiling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something more challenging than he’d expected. Still, his grandmother’s words echoed in his mind: Stand tall, be proud of who you are. Tomorrow was another day, another chance to prove himself. And he was determined to face it with courage.

As weeks passed, Alex had settled into a routine at Springfield Middle School, but Mrs. Thompson’s behavior toward him grew impossible to ignore. One morning, while Alex was solving a math problem at the board, Mrs. Thompson stood behind him, tapping her foot impatiently. “We don’t have all day,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make several students look up. Alex’s hand trembled slightly as he wrote the final answer, which was perfectly correct. But Mrs. Thompson merely said, “Sit down,” without acknowledging his work.

The situation reached a new level during their history presentations. Each student had to talk about their family heritage. When Alex proudly shared stories about his grandmother’s civil rights activism and his family’s deep roots in the community, Mrs. Thompson interrupted him halfway through. “That’s enough,” she said, cutting him off, even though he still had two minutes left. Yet when the next student spoke for an extra three minutes about their summer vacation, completely off-topic, Mrs. Thompson beamed and called it “wonderfully detailed.”

Word of Mrs. Thompson’s behavior began spreading beyond room 203. Other teachers noticed how she would make comments about Alex’s hair during faculty lunch breaks. “I don’t understand why they can’t just wear their hair normally,” she’d say loud enough for several teachers to hear. Most shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but few spoke up.

One afternoon, during art class, Alex felt a cold and wet sensation on top of his head. He reached up, only to realize that Mrs. Thompson had poured superglue on his hair. The classroom fell silent. Mrs. Thompson’s face turned pale as realization dawned. “Oh my,” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern. “What a terrible accident. I must have grabbed the wrong bottle.”

But it wasn’t just any bottle—it was industrial-strength superglue from the locked supply cabinet. The other students, now noticing the full extent of the situation, began to speak up, their voices overlapping as they called out Mrs. Thompson’s actions. David rushed to get the nurse, while other students pulled out their phones to document the incident.

Minutes later, the nurse arrived, and soon after, the news spread to the entire school. The school nurse worked quickly, carefully documenting the situation and treating Alex’s scalp, while the school’s security cameras recorded the entire event. It didn’t take long before word reached Principal Richardson. Unaware that Alex’s father was the principal, students and teachers alike had begun to speak out.

As the principal arrived, the students watched in awe as he managed the situation with calm efficiency, calling for the district office and ensuring the proper procedures were followed. He took action to ensure Alex received immediate medical attention and support, all while maintaining his composure and leadership.

That evening, the community rallied around Alex, demanding accountability for Mrs. Thompson’s actions. News outlets began reporting on the incident, and social media buzzed with calls for change. Principal Richardson, torn between his duties as a father and his role as a leader, found himself in the center of the controversy. But through it all, Alex remained proud, knowing that his strength and his family’s determination would bring about change not only for him but for all students facing injustice.

By the end of the week, Mrs. Thompson’s teaching license was revoked, and the school district implemented new policies for inclusion and anti-discrimination. Alex had unknowingly ignited a movement that would change his school forever. And as the sun set on Springfield Middle School, both father and son knew that sometimes the hardest moments lead to the most important changes.

“You could have killed that kid”: Shaquille O’Neal’s father pounded him for sending a kid into seizure

Los Angeles Lakers living legend Shaquille O’Neal faced brutal beatings from his father for almost killing a child.

Shaquille O’Neal is an immensely successful athlete. His viciousness and strength had no match. Inside the paint, O’Neal was a menace. He could go toe to toe with any center or forward and emerge victorious.

Having led the Lakers to a three-peat, Shaq is an LA legend. Yet, long before his unchallenged supremacy, O’Neal was just a vulnerable child.

He came from a financially challenged family, with dreams of becoming rich. Back then, no one knew Shaq would reach such heights. And He was regularly beaten up by his father for stepping out of the line.

The vicious cycle of breaking rules and getting trashed by his father turned O’Neal into a bully. On one occasion, Shaq beat up a kid so badly, the kid went into a seizure.

O’Neal: “So I’m beating this kid up and I’m kicking this kid and he has an epileptic seizure. It’s just me and the kid and he’s on the ground shaking. Now, I’m frightened. A guy comes and saves the kid. I got home and got disciplined and my mother said, ‘You’re too big and too strong. You can’t ever do that again.’ That kinda stayed with me. I didn’t want to do that anymore. Let me go to Plan B. I was always the class clown, funny guy. So I just stuck with that rather than being a bully.”

Shaquille O’Neal’s father responded harshly to the episode

The Big Aristotle, in his book Shaq Uncut, revealed the aftermath.

He wrote: “My father beat me silly for that. Everytime he hit me, he said, “You idiot! You could have killed that kid. You’d be in jail the rest of your life.”“

Shaquille O’Neal believed his father, despite beating him up regularly, wasn’t violent. According to the 7’1″ center, his father’s actions made him who he is.

The reason sarge beat up Shaq so much was because he did not want his son to turn out to be another version of him. He wanted his son to be better than his father.

Though it doesn’t justify the brutal beatings he gave his son, it clearly highlights how the man thought. For him instilling the fear of authority and the need to be better as a human were of utmost importance.

He wanted Shaq to become successful without being brought down by his own self-destructive tendencies. His methods were definitely violent and heart-wrenching. But for Shaq, they still hold meaning.

Do you think Shaq is right in justifying his father’s actions?