Here, as in the other dream, I'm a fraud, someone who's supposed to know things she doesn't actually know. The old fear, the exam fear, never goes away. As you go through life, it just gets projected onto other situations. If you become a teacher, the fear is projected onto your students. They don't have the power over you that your teachers once had, but your internalized fear gives them the power.
Terror is like a ball that bounces back and forth between two walls of a small room.
Once you throw it hard at one wall, it rebounds to the other and then back against the first, and so on until it loses momentum and gravity pulls it to the floor. With terror, though, I'm not sure what stops the ball, or whether in some instances it doesn't pick up speed and bounce harder. The walls in this metaphor are teachers and students, and the ball is the fear they pass back and forth. Meanwhile, in order to establish and maintain my authority, I would almost invariably come to class over-prepared, allowing no deviations from the plan for the day, making everything I said as complex, high level, and idiosyncratic as possible lest the students think I wasn't as smart as they were. It's easy, though, to caricature the devices I'd stoop to in order to both yield and keep hold of authority.