(Not so) Hot for Teacher

Navy knickers anyone?

Whoa! I've just had the shit scared out of me. Today I started a tailoring and advanced dressmaking course and you should meet my teacher.Talk about being transported right back to my school days. She has to be forty years older than I am and insists on being called Mrs Williams. She also insists on calling us, er, pupils by our titles and surnames.
More than that we have to do things PROPERLY. I get the feeling that she'd take our hands off at the wrists with a wooden ruler if she caught us cutting corners.
Tales abound from those who have taken her class before; she'll unpick an entire dress that you've made if she thinks it could have been done better. I half expected her to rip what I was wearing from my body and declare it fit for puppy smothering. Christ, I even shared a cutting table with a girl who was made to re-lay and re-pin her pattern four times because Mrs W wasn't happy with it.
I swear, every time she came near me I started sweating spinal fluid. And even though it was a two hour class I got hardly anything done thanks to being struck senseless with fear. I've been known to run up an entire dress in two hours but today all I did was fumble over two metres of purple crepe and drop my pot of pins. 
Blimey, I may want to feel young again but being scared shitless in a dusty classroom wasn't necessarily part of the plan.