My school required me to read this the summer before I started sixth grade. Actually, it was a choice between this and The Hundred Dresses, and I went with Dickens. I don't know how they went from Oliver Twist to The Hundred Dresses, but I think the theme we had to write the essay about was "bullying." Make of that what you will. 
 So I read this when I was ten-going-on-eleven, being a summer baby, and I'm quite glad to say "Master Bates" went completely over my head. So did the prostitute thing. Actually, I had no idea what Nancy's point in the book was until close to the end, where the annotations mentioned that she worked as a prostitute. My mom had me read with a Webster's Pocket Dictionary (which, by the way, I carried around in my bag for a good portion of middle school--can't miss an opportunity to look up a word) next to me, so my confusion was cleared up. 
 My teacher ended up being a middle-aged woman with bleached hair, a nose ring (septum piercings, if I'm not mistaken), and a tattoo of a rose on her shoulder blade. I reckon she had more ink, but the shoulder blade was the most we'd see. She spent the year harping on about symbolism and "label names," how each color represented something about the characters, all that nonsense. She'd check to make sure we were all "prepared," which meant having our homework, notebooks, pens, sanity, etc. And if not? She made you walk up to her desk, take a slip of paper from a watermelon-shaped bowl, and have your parents sign the proof of how incompetent as a student you were. 
 I think she was the root of my hatred for English class. It certainly wasn't a good introduction to the course, being the first English class I ever took. 
 Middle school, am I right? *ba dum tsss*