My English professor, holding up my paper on heaven.
"Excellent job." She says nothing about the other papers. I'm the only one mentioned by name. I glance at the paper.
"If it's so excellent how come I only got a ninety?"
She looks at me, hard.
"Because I want you to have to work for an A in this class."
"Oh jeez, you're one of those teachers." I laugh.
"You're tired of getting good grades just because you're the best writer in the class."
"It's not really something you get tired of," I say, and yes, I am this conceited in real life.
I'm taking her again next semester; an obscenity and censorship class.