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My friend's dad took some sort of nasty calculus class when he was in college. Well, it came time for the final exam, and he and the other hundred-or-so students plopped down in the lecture hall to meet their fate. The professor said that they all had 90 minutes to complete the exam.

Well, apparently this exam was pretty rough, but my friend's dad was determined to get through every problem. He had studied, but these problems were laborous endeavors. Soon the 90 minutes had passed, and every one had turned their exams in, except for him. The professor sat patiently at his desk and watched as his student worked through each step of each question until finally, 45 minutes later, he walked up to the desk.

"Of course you realize I can't accept your test," said the professor, "I'm going to have to fail it."

"Hey," demanded my friend's dad, "Do you know who I am?"

"No," answered the professor, put off by his pupil's hubris.

And with that, my friend's dad picked up half the stack of tests, stuffed his in the middle and made his escape. I understand he got a B+ in the class.


Two urban legends:

The final of a philosophy class asked the question "Why?" One student wrote "Why not?" and received the only A.

I'd just like to point out that, of all the philosophy professors I've met, none would reward a student for use of such a boring cliche. I think this story comes from the layperson's belief that there are "right answers" in philosophy.

If you rub petroleum jelly on a scantron sheet (those long narrow bubble tests), all your answers will be read as correct because of the way the scanner's light passes through it.

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