When I was at college in Washington I took a class called The Meaning of Life.
I know. I know!
Don't look at me like that, it was for a credit I needed.
And now that I think about it, I was probably the only Christian in the class and the only one NOT confused on where my beliefs stand. Oh, and I'm a chatty person so I had no problem contributing thoroughly to class discussions.
Anyway, we had papers to write. Lots of papers. Does the name Dostoyevsky mean anything??
My professor, who I actually liked despite the topics we addressed in class, took an interesting take on grading -- He claimed he opened a bottle of wine at the beginning of the paper grading, continuing to drink throughout the process... and you wanted to be the first to turn in your paper so it would be on the bottom of the pile.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure I deserved that A.