When I was in high school we had a teacher who most of the time was dressed at the same old style clothes, from 70th probably. And we at least tried to dress good, made something or borrow. Sometimes we would watch what this teacher was wearing and talk about it. One time she invited us to her house to bring a few cakes to school for a party. We went to her house, couldn't find it at first and when we found it, I was so sorry for the teacher, because I had never seen anyone who lived poorer than her. It was not even a house, just a room with 3 beds, everything else was outside on the street.
Another story. In school my mom used to do my homework when I had to do something else, but she would always argue with me about it. She had enough one day, plus she found a mistake in our algebra book, after hoyrs of solving the problem, and wrote in my note book everything what she thought about me, the school, teachers and our programs. The teacher read it, and was afraid to call my mom, so she called my dad, but he said it was just school and wasn't a big deal, or call my mom. And this teacher never bothered me again, even when I had notes written on my hands, papers in my pockets, on the book covers.
