(I took a poetry class in college as part of my English major. We read some abstract poems and discussed possible interpretations in class. Our exam was the same thing–read a poem, write an interpretation, and explain how we came up with it. I was not happy when I saw my grade and the professor’s notes.)
Professor (on Returned Exam): Score 15/30. Good interpretation, but the poem actually means this…
(The next few exams were pretty much the same. I realized that I could figure out what the professor’s interpretation was and write that as if it was my own, but I felt that would be dishonest to myself. So I kept writing my own interpretations.
Several months later, my wife (girlfriend at the time) met up with this professor at some university event and mentioned that she was engaged to me.)
Professor: Oh, I know [My Name]. He took my poetry class last semester.
Wife: He told me he didn’t like that class very much.
Professor: Why not? He’s very smart, and he wrote very well. He might be a genius.
Wife: But you gave him a C.
Professor: … I did?
(And that’s one of the reasons I changed from an English major to a Psychology major.)