Professor Dora had been teaching at the Mostropia school for monsters for years, and while she took great pride in her work, it was clear that the fear she instilled in her students was one of the strongest forces shaping her classroom environment. The children quickly learned the hard way that her eyes—and her snake-like hair, alive with hissing serpents—were not to be trifled with. One wrong move, one misstep, and they were stone.

If a child misbehaved, if they were disruptive, or if they did anything that warranted Miss Dora's ire, they would feel the icy chill of her gaze—and then, in a heartbeat, they would freeze in place, statuesque and immobile, their limbs locked in a stony grip.

Most students quickly learned not to test her.