My high school algebra teacher was scary. She was a tiny, overwrought, OCD nun. And vicious.

She accused me of cheating on a two-question timed quiz because I put my name on the paper after she announced, “Pencils down!”

She did that loudly in front of my classmates, while I explained what actually happened. She had a maniacal “Gotcha!” grin on her face, shaking her head at me, as she marked a huge “0%” across the top of my paper and lifted it up for everyone to see. Most of my classmates had a “been there, done that” expression on their faces, but some were surprised because I was the best student in the room. There was a slight novelty factor here as she usually crucified the slower girls. They were smiling a little. Who could blame them?

Sister called home to report me, but I had already told my parents what had happened. I wasn't going back to the school unless she apologized, I had told them that afternoon. My parents had always been a little put upon by my self-righteously annoying honesty. They didn't believe the crazy nun who told them I cheated.

My mom met with the principal, the principal met with Sister, and Sister met with me. To apologize. :)