My mother was a strict but fair teacher. It was so strict that in the school toilet (where one in three was usually smoked) she was recognized by the heels of her heels, and after buying silent shoes she was sincerely frightened. But history is not about that.

At the end of the 90s, I sit on the last row, drawing (the kindergarten closed for quarantine, leaving with no one was). My mother is teaching in a “problematic” class. She loved to give those with the lowest performance and the worst family circumstances. The lesson passes, my mom finds me in order to take me to the dining room - and the boots are not! These are the winter shoes that have been used for a long time. Tears and silent despair.

This was noticed by the last outgoing "most problematic student". After clarifying the situation, he left. And my mom and I stayed sitting, she was in exchange shoes, and I was painted in a hug.

The call for the lesson - with a victorious look comes the same "problematic" and stretches the mother's bag... with her boots.

As it turned out, the guy in mind of his "problem" quickly calculated who, where, who and why. He ran away, took away, gave a lull on hot tracks.

Why returned? He said, “You can’t throw your beloved teacher on your grandmother.”

These are the “problematic” people.