One of my early teachers in elementary school was a short, round and very nice lady named Mrs. Smith. She wore thick glasses that made her eyes always look to be smiling. She seemed almost ancient to me, but as a little kid most people are older than you, some much older. She was very helpful if you had a problem with the schoolwork, and would bend over your desk very close so as to guide you through your trouble. And that is when it became apparent that the only thing wrong with this wonderful, devoted teacher was…her breath. It was horrible, burning your nose and leaving a terrible taste in your mouth, or so it seemed. When she was helping other students up close you could see the different methods deployed by them to avoid it: leaning back, nonchalantly holding a hand over the nose, holding breath. I felt sort of sorry for her, and I wondered if she did not know or maybe didn’t care, but it was just something to put up with because none of us would dare tell a teacher her breath was stinky enough to “gag a maggot” as the saying went. It was not uncommon back then for students to give teachers little gifts, and one day Mrs. Smith had one sitting on her desk, wrapped in pretty paper with her name written on it. She announced she would open the anonymous gift in front us. With a smile she unwrapped the gift and there in her hands was a giant bottle of Listerine. There was some snickering and guffaws as she held it up proudly for all to see, and then gently set it back down on the front of her desk, making sure the label faced the class. She thanked us for a wonderful gift, and started in on the lessons for the day. As the days then weeks went on the bottle continued to sit on her desk where she had placed it, her breath no better, her cheerful attitude unchanged.