Title basically does it. I was an adjunct professor for freshman composition for two semesters (a class I hated, and they hated, which is why they gave it to adjuncts). I live in a city in the eastern US, but a lot of my family is in Cali, ~3,000 miles away. I very much accept the classification of a casual teacher: I expected students to turn stuff in on time (leeway where needed–I once had a girl show me a court summons as an excuse and gave her a generous extention), but other courseloads, life drama, illnesses, whatever, I'll take it into consideration if the student is typically good. There was one student in one class, though, who always got my goat. I tried to be fair and reasonable with all my students. In college, personalities clash (especially when freshmen are learning that the teacher doesn't want you to please them personally, but wants evidence that you're learning). This kid was the typical show-off but bare minimum by the way of assignments. He admitted late in the semester he only turned in first drafts of his essays, no revisions, which is why he consistantly got poor grades. Mid-semester, my paternal grandmother died. My dad and I were the only ones in the immediate side of our family who could drop everything and go. The day before I left, I walked into class, gave them a week-long assignment, and told them I would be cancelling the next two classes because of my cross-country trip. It was a rough experience, but I got to see cousins I love who I don't often see. Come back to a call to the admin office because the dust-up student calculated how much tuition money he lost based on my bereavement leave and complained. I never wanted to fail a kid more in my life. I didn't, but I so wanted to.