I was a Year 7 form teacher in my probationary year. We called it "the first year" in those days. I had to collect individual teachers' subject reports and copy them on to a sort of master report. The woodwork teacher, a very arrogant and unpleasant man whose wife was the equally unpleasant school secretary (I used to amuse myself by imagining what they were like when having sex), had written for one little lad's report "This boy knows nothing about anything." That was it, the whole thing. I sent it back to him asking him to rewrite it, pointing out that he was really only able to comment about the lad's woodwork lesson exploits. He was furious and went straight to the headmaster, who ruled in my favour, amazing considering that said headmaster lived in mortal fear of the dragon-like school secretary.... :-)

The two best excuse notes I got from parents that year were a long sob-story written on two sides of paper explaining that her son hadn't done his homework because his pet dog has accidentally hung itself on the railings, and the other which informed me that Paul couldn't come to school yesterday with his stomach...