I think I've been lucky in that I've had more than my fair share of good, decent, sometimes inspirational teachers. I'm in uni now, so I've been through quite a few.

In fact the worst teachers I can remember were all back in primary school. In Year 7, we had this one male teacher who would seem to favour the popular kids and laugh at the nerdier ones (which I was one of). Anyway, this one time he got me to draw his secondhand convertible that he'd just bought. It took me two hours, but I drew it. Later, a "popular" girl asks him for a sheet of paper, because she ruined hers or something. He takes my picture, rubs it out in front of me, and then hands her the sheet. As a twelve year old girl, I was pretty gutted.