Not so much as what was said but what was done. In the third grade, Mrs.Kelly was an antique gargantuan beast with white hair, horn rimmed glasses and breath that would take the paint off your house, if she ever knew any kind words she never used them.
When we were in the reading circle, she hovered over each reader like a vulture set on her next meal of dead flesh. Without a smidgen of compassion, each mispronounced word, every pause was rewarded with a pinched ear lobe or a tug of the hair. One day, I had finally had enough of her abuse (I didn't even know the word at the time) and had to put a stop it the constant barrage of cruelty. When the she devil pulled my hair as she shrieked " YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!", I slammed my book closed, threw it on the floor and used her moment of shock to make a break for the door outside of the barrack building our class tortured in. I ran all the way to a relatives house three blocks from the school for life saving refuge.
Cutting to the end result, the Wicked Witch of the North, South, East and West ( yeah boy she was the Queen of Witches) retired at the end of that year, just in time to keep someone from dumping a bucket of holy water over her.
It wasn't until many years later we realized that I had a mild reading disability that may have been repaired with proper instruction and patience. Granted I don't think dyslexia was even a word back then.